Selby Family Mission

July 14, 2011

People of Repogueachi,

Held in our hearts forever

before the Father’s throne in our prayer

In your faces we saw the image of our Maker

At your feet we learned the teachings of the Savior.

You are nearer the heart of God than you can imagine.

Won’t you lift your faces toward the warmth of His shining?

July 8, 2011

We called him ‘Palochi’ or Grandpa.  He called Luke ‘bearded one’, and I’m not sure what he called the rest of us.  Probably something relating to our craziness.  I think he liked us all right, just couldn’t figure out why we picnicked on rocks overlooking the canyon and had so many books on the wall, when after all—you can’t eat books.

I remember him coming down the hill in cold weather wrapped up in a wool blanket.  He often brought a gift for us; some eggs, some withered apples, once a goat leg.  And we loved him—the old man who had dreams and some said a very strong ability to put spells on people.

He was a witch doctor, but came to us for Tylenol.  Especially during our last few weeks.  His chest and arms hurt.  We thought it was from hauling firewood up and down the steep trails.  Turns out he had cancer all through him. He lived just three weeks after they found out.

Around Mother’s Day we found out that he died.  I was devastated with grief.  Us just back in the United States trying to adjust and no one to really understand that ‘Grandpa’ had died.  Never would I see the twinkly eyed man again or say ‘good morning’ and ‘what did you dream last night?’.  Never would he ask me to come in a drink coffee with him and Alfonsa.

At least I thought never.

Then we got the email.  The one that said that during those last three weeks, Miguel had been in and out of the hospital in Samachique.  There they told him the story of Jesus, in his own language, and before he died, they said, he gave his life to the Lord.

What joy!  We could laugh.  And dance.  And shout aloud!  To think of talking without language inhibitions in heaven…to lift our palms and sing next to him in our clean white robes, though I somehow think he’ll still be in a loincloth.

Will we get to find out what he really was thinking during those times his eyes danced and twinkled with hidden laughter?  Eternity will tell.

June 20, 2011

I’m walking on the road-trail in Reepogueachi and the sun is warm on my back.  Houses are dotted here and there below me, and as I walk I pray.  ”Lord, shine on this place.”  Shine on Antonio and Marta, shine on Cristina… finally I break into the clearing at the other end of the village and pray for the household in front of me.  ”Be their Teacher, Holy Spirit…we do not speak their language well, but You do.”

This last house is made of stones.  The metal roof survives the gusty winds by heavy rocks placed on it.  A rag-tag bunch of children are always loitering about the place and a few small and skinny dogs.  This is where the family of Facundo and Dolores live.  He is Rosalia’s dad, of whom I wrote about in the last entry.

Facundo is a quiet man and hard worker, a supposed champion Tara runner in his day–he’s not easy to get to know, but not hard to like either.  I asked him for a photo with his wife and was happily surprised to get the hint of a smile on each of their faces.  Dolores is a very hard worker.  I often saw her pushing a wheel barrow full of firewood up the hill toward their house or hauling water on her head or in a wheel barrow.

But what I remember most about this household is that there was always room for one more child, and there are a lot of them.  Grandchildren, nieces, and nephews.  There was always room for me to sidle in by the fire and have a fresh tortilla if they were making them.

Praying for Facundo, Dolores, and their family today.

May 3, 2011

Isaiah 54:4-5  Do not be afraid—you will not be disgraced again; you will not be humiliated. You will forget your unfaithfulness as a young wife, and your desperate loneliness as a widow.  Your Creator will be like a husband to you— the LORD Almighty is his name. The holy God of Israel will save you— he is the ruler of all the world.

We are soon going to celebrate Mother’s Day here in the US, and so today I will take a moment to write about a mother in Reepogueachi—Rosalia.  I’m never sure if her name is really Rosalia or Rosaria.  A retroflexed ‘r’ or a flapped one…it doesn’t really matter.  She answers to either with such a smile, that you wonder if anyone ever said her name before in a kind or friendly way.

Rosalia lives with her parents and has a passel of little ones.  She also is normally taking care of some cast-off child or two that one of her sisters has run out of food or energy for.  I have always thought of her as a good mother, although her children are the dirtiest, most raggedy bunch in our village.  I think she enjoys her children and wants the best for them.

One time Luke hauled a truck load of firewood that she had chopped and split by herself for her daughter’s school tuition.  Arselia, her daughter, was a playmate for the girls and went to VBS with us last summer.  Both mother and children liked to sing with us and seemed very open to learning more about Jesus.

Probably the saddest part of her situation is about the man, or men, in her life.  I don’t know how many husbands she has had, but the father of some of her children is in jail for murder, I understand, and the man she calls ‘husband’ now has another wife and several children.  He lives with them most of the time in a different village and only occasionally comes to see Rosalia.

Rosalia is a needy person, but she is happy to give back, also.  I wrote about her in a blog entry called “Rosalia Shining.”  She has brought me many things and will sometimes trade a bit more than I asked for.  I think she is a beautiful person, although I probably will never understand exactly what is going on inside of her.

I believe that Rosalia craves a friend.  I tried to be her friend and ran out of energy.  I have let her down and sometimes confused and hurt her by not always being available for her long, quiet visits.  She is the kind of person that would probably like to just move in.  So for Mother’s Day I am praying that Rosalia meets the only Friend that never lets us down.  He doesn’t sigh when He sees us coming, never shuts the door, and is the Unlimited Source of healing for our hurts and needs.

Isaiah 40:11  He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.

Pray and weep with me for Rosalia and her little ones today?

April 2, 2011

I walked, as it were, in the beauty of innocence.  Call it ignorance if you will.  “His eye is on the sparrow,” and I knew He watched me also.

Life was a springtime of promise.  Green with hope and bursting with flower-dreams.  Cloudless skies and endless horizons of possibility to any who had the courage believe and have faith.

The leap of faith made my knees shake and my stomach turn inside out…but I felt certain that God would bear us up and reward our passionate outpouring with an outpouring of His own.  Subconsciously felt that when troubles came, I would mount up with wings and soar above them. 

The needs of the lost and dying became my own—calling me to share in their suffering.  As I did so, I felt any icy wind sweep through my springtime revelry.  The realization that God doesn’t work as I had thought or expected. Continue reading

April 1, 2011

I feel as one walking in a dream.  A stranger in my skin and in this place. Vaguely connected with the past by fragile threads of memories.

This time when we drive into the US, I don’t break out in the national anthem.  I just feel weird.  We all feel very strange. 

A lady in the elevator asks me where I’m from.  I am caught off-guard, searching for an answer.  Good question?  Seeing my dilemma, she supplies the answer for me—“Oh, a military family.”

I hope our ‘military’ marching orders are “stay put” for awhile.  I am aware that they might not be, but I can’t think that far just yet.  Not while unpacking our truck and finding that the little green rental house feels good—like home, the girls say.

“This is harder than we dreamed.  But I believe that’s what the promise is for.”

March 31, 2011

Blessed be Your name in a land that is plentiful,

Where the streams of abundance flow.

Blessed be Your name.

Blessed be Your name when I’m found in a desert place,

Though I walk through the wilderness.

Blessed be Your name.

When we left Reepogueachi it was with mixed emotion—for us, I think, not our neighbors.  It has been said that the whole Tarahumara culture has shades of attachment disorder.  Perhaps we all do?  They do not tend to attach deeply, and then often for what they can get out of it.  Unending vacuums of need—sucking one person dry before they move on.  Their parting sentiments of love consisted of things like;

“Can you bring me a mattress from the US?  I hear they are thicker and cheaper there.”

“The baby needs diapers and his sister needs clothes.” 

We smile and pray that in all of this God has a few who will really get it someday.  And while I pray for them, I realize that I don’t always ‘get it’ too well either. 

Time with the Reimer family in Las Jaqueyes, who recently lost their ten-year-old son in an accident, was a real blessing.  We spent the night with them and went to church on our way up to the border.  Their testimony of peace and acceptance of God’s plan impacted our family.  A video about Timothy can be found at,  www.youtube.com/watch?v=53M-DL-sNzc

Journey highlights—

Going to Mount Hermon with Matt and Anne and their children.  What a place of refreshment!  The ocean, redwood forests and Long family are relaxing and invigorating. 

Being with Bart and Annalee and their family.  Sharing together, realizing that we are not alone in this struggle with burnout….nothing like the blessing of being with people who have walked a similar road.  (They once lived in Samachique, Mexico and their daughter Esther Grace lived with us for awhile)  I’m warmed by the memory. 

Finally landing at Joe and Melanie’s.  An oasis and place of refuge in an unsettling time of our lives.

March 9, 2011

By way of explanation….

I wrongly assume that anyone brave enough to take a peek at this page of raw musings, surely knows all of the details that glue these random thoughts together.

And now you are trying to patch together the details and wondering why we’re leaving this place.

Temporarily leaving—at least that’s the plan.  But ‘knowing how way leads on to way’, and wanting to be open to God’s leading, we never know exactly what will happen.  Also, there are political/government factors that are always uncertain.

The plan as of now is to be in the US for an indefinite period of time for Julie’s wedding, to have a baby (!), work on better visas, hopefully sell our farm in Montana, and perhaps get a little rest.

The last reason is probably the first.  I, especially, am feeling the effects of burnout and exhaustion—and some days I don’t feel guilty about it.  Many days I do.  But God says, “Come apart and be refreshed,” and He who gives us a calling and a vision leads us there in winding ways and in His own timing.

We are happy because Dave and Delia Hardin plan to live out here some when they have time.  Dave is the mechanic for the mission aviation program here, and his wife Delia is a beautiful Tarahumara woman.  Actually, the people of Reepogueachi are her aunts and uncles!  They have been good friends to us and have inspiring faith in Jesus, so we feel very good about them being out here.

Seems like leaving is as much of a faith launch as coming was.  I look over the precipice and feel shaky inside.  Will God come through this time?  Of course He will, but sometimes I wonder why He waits so long?!  The weeks and days wind down before we plan to head north (via California), and still no place to rent in Washington.  We’ve been looking at the Ellensburg area and have friends there helping us look.  It’s a little hard to rental shop from Reepogueachi, so we’re very thankful for Jeremy and Grant.

We try to wrap up details here, and details among the Tarahumara do not always wrap up in nice, neat, timely packages.  But as of now, we plan to leave the nineteenth.

We want to come back—most days.  And we do plan to come back.  We just hold our plans in open hands.

Thank you, friends, for your prayers and compassion for us and for the Tarahumara people, for whom Christ died.

March 3, 2010

These weeks leading up to our leaving are quite emotional for me.  I know, I know…I’m pregnant.  But even my normally very calm and even-keeled husband has been rather emotional.  We wake up in the night and discuss how and if we’ll make it in civilization.  We feel the weirdness of being about to launch into something completely different for awhile and having nowhere to land yet.  The people come more regularly now that we’re feeling better and ‘open for business.’  They don’t seem to think it’s weird at all that we’re leaving for a season.  They are quite migratory and often leave to go work, plant in another area, or just disappear for no reason at all.

“I don’t want to leave here.  I don’t want to stay.”  Over and over Sarah Grove’s lyrics in “Painting Pictures of Egypt” are running through my mind.  Yes, I’ve craved small luxuries—civilization…but now that the departure date looms; I’ll admit that my knees are a little shaky.  Will I be able to get myself together enough to live in a place where people shower regularly and comb their hair before noon?

I am making mind-lists of the things I’ll miss.  Continue reading

March 1, 2011

Last night Luke brought home two surprises from Guachochi.  Our dear friend Esperanza and her niece Laura.  It had been a long time since we have seen each other, because she went home to Mexico City for awhile.  Also, I was overjoyed to hear her testimony of God’s delivering power.

While she and her brother were in route between here and Mexico City, they were pulled over by Narcos (drug workers).  The men kidnapped them and took their truck.  As they were being driven through back roads, hands tied behind their backs, they overheard the men saying that they were taking them out to kill them.  Boss’s orders.  But as they drove further, the men began to discuss that maybe they should just drop them off…since they were just missionaries.

So they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere.  When they finally found help and talked to the police (who, of course, could do nothing), the police said that it was puzzling indeed.  These men never let people go alive who have seen their faces.

We say with assurance that until God is done with us here, we are ‘invincible.’  But when I hear stories like hers, it increases my faith that this is a living reality.

After two weeks here, Esperanza is headed home again (via airplane) to care for her sick mother.  Will you please pray for her?  She lost her truck and all of her paperwork and other important items.  Pray for workers to fill the gap that she leaves, especially in Chikwe, where she has played such a vital role.