"¡Oh profundidad de las riquezas
de la sabiduría y la ciencia de Dios!
¡Cuán insondables son sus juicios,
e inescrutables sus caminos!" --Romanos 11:33
The brown frog hills in the distance, the dry and dust-filled air, the tiny roadside huts reading "FRESAS" in red paint all felt warm and familiar to me, but my spirit felt weak.
As Alonso and I bumped along the new carretera toward Silao, listening to Bunbury and slowing every now and again to pass over topes, I jotted down a few notes in my tiny libreta: "When moments like this arise, I know that I have to do one of three things: cry, run, or pray." I stared out the window at the hills, resting my head on my right hand. Jesus, I need to be encouraged. Let my mind and heart be set on you alone.
As we stepped out of the white Chrysler to enter the gate to Alonso's house, Marisa, his mother, called out to us. His brother Mariano was with her, and they were talking to an old woman in front of the house across the street.
"Aly, te presento a la Señora Evelia. Señora Evelia, ésta es una amiga de Alonso, Aly. Ella viene de Estados Unidos." And so I was presented to a small, thin woman in her mid-seventies. Her olive skin was wrinkled by age and central Mexican sun, her cropped brown hair brushed back from her face. Behind her glasses, her brown eyes shone with a rare liveliness of spirit. Her handshake was firm, the kiss of my cheek purposeful.
We started to converse. She told me she was going to study the Bible at a church that was started by a man named Todd, who was from Texas. "Ah, qué padre!" I exclaimed. I told her that I would be moving to Texas in July to study the Bible.
"Well, come on!" she exclaimed suddenly. "What are you waiting for? You're coming with me!"
Without thinking for another second, I agreed. "Sí, claro! Sólo voy a agarrar mi Biblia!" I went to grab my Bible from Alonso's house, hearing her shouts behind me: "Hurry up! Our taxi's about to arrive!"
Accidentally spilling my bottle of water over my suitcase as I rummaged for my journal and both Spanish and English Bibles, my heart quickened with excitement.
Down the wooden staircase, past the fruit baskets in the kitchen, I met la Señora outside the red gate of the Lara Bravo's home, kissed Alonso's family hasta luego. Evelia grabbed my hand firmly, dragging me toward the taxi, turning to assure Alonso's mother, "I'm going to take care of her like she were my own daughter!"
Once inside the taxi, she turned to me, still holding my hand in hers. "You know that this wasn't by accident, don't you?!" she exclaimed. "El Señor always has a plan! Nada pasa por casualidad!" Oh, I knew.
As we passed into the poorer part of Silao, Guanajuato, she bounced her thin legs up and down in her seat and looked me in the eyes: "Ay, tengo hambre de Cristo!" she told me. She was hungry for Christ! She could not wait to dive into the Bible, and I just smiled, feeding off of the excitement of my old sister Evelia.
In a small, square room, about fifteen women of all ages met to study--from five to seventy-five, they came to pray and to hear the word proclaimed. We talked about Jesus and the way He knows us and is above us, how we must continually run to Him instead of focusing on our present anxiety, sickness, sin. Recorremos a Él. It was exactly the encouragement I needed, and it was not by accident.
Two passages of scripture stand out in particular from the night: Philippians 4:6-7 and Romans 8:26-27. Let your requests be made known to God--and even when you don't know what to pray, the Spirit intercedes! He meets us wherever we are--His hand is never too short to save.
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
We rode in a full pick-up truck back to the other side of Silao, la Señora Evelia clutching my hand tightly all the way.
Bienaventurada soy yo.
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