Bringing Up a Son-in-law

(Written on May 20, 2015, on my husband's 40th birthday.)

"He that delicately bringeth up his servant from a child shall have him become his son at length."

Proverbs 29:21

Today is my husband’s birthday.  He has hit the big 4-0.  Yep.  But he’s still just as young at heart, lively, and fun-loving as the day I married him.  He’s grown wiser and has learned a lot through experience. 

I’ve known him for 25 years.  That is a long time, you know?  We’ve been married for 13 years, but have loved each other for probably about 20 years.  (He’s loved me nearly half of his life!)

He was born in a small village, the 9th child (4th son) of the ten Lopez Children.  His parents were poor farmers (his mother learned to keep bees, and that added to the family income).  When he was not even two years old, he went into his daddy’s small store and, unknown to anyone around, ingested some of the petroleum oil that his daddy had in the store.  His esophagus was badly burned, and he could not eat or drink. He came very close to death.  God gave his Mamma wisdom, and she fed him drops of the pure honey she had. Drop after drop, his little throat was healed.  When I heard my mother-in-law tell that story, I knew God had kept him alive for a purpose.

At the tender age of 11, after finishing 6th grade, he said goodbye to his Daddy and Mamma to go to the city.  As was the custom, because there were no schools other than primary schools in the villages then, if a child wanted further education, he had to go to the city.  So, with tears in her eyes, Mamma Lopez said goodbye to her young child.  Because there was not enough money to travel frequently, my husband would not see his Mamma for months at a time, and at one time, three years passed before she saw him! He said that was such a hard time for him, being so far away from his parents!

It is a fact that God had his hand upon this young boy.  He boarded with a man who was a miserable drunk, and who took advantage of this boy’s hard-working skills.  He was given a “bed” under the chicken coop, and was made to rise at 4:00 A.M. to take corn to the market for selling.  Rushing home, he had to be ready for school at 8:00 A.M.

Although my husband was unsaved then, God had His eye upon him.  God protected him and kept him from the physical and emotional dangers that surrounded him.

God put a man named Paco in my husband’s path who took him from that awful situation in the old drunk’s home.  Paco watched over him and looked after him like an older brother.  He gave him 50 cents each day for his food.  There was a kind lady who sold sandwiches and snacks at the school where my husband attended.  My husband asked her if he could wash her dishes and sweep her floor every day for a sandwich at break time.  She generously agreed.  As this young man with a winning smile earned her confidence, she eventually allowed him to run the cash register and “upped” his salary.  And so it was that he earned his meal through nurse’s school.  He was only 14 years old when he entered nursing school.

But things were not well at Paco’s.  One of the sisters who lived there was jealous of the attention that my husband got from Paco, and she told my husband that he had to leave.  With tears in his eyes, Paco said, “Pal, you need to go.”

He had no where to go.  Ahh...but God's providence was at work. A young man who went to nurse’s school with my husband heard of the hardship that he had to endure.  So he told him, “I live at the home of a missionary.  He gives me lodging and food, and I’m sure he will take you in.”  At first, my husband was too shy to approach the missionary.  Yet, at his friend’s urging, he got courage and went to the missionary’s house.  The missionary’s son, Joel, was standing outside the gate eating an orange when my husband arrived.  Friendly Joel offered my husband an orange. My husband said he'll never forget thinking how kind and generous this young man was.  When hearing of my husband’s plight, Joel said, “I’ll speak to my father on your behalf.  I’m sure we can give you a place to stay.”

That missionary was my Dad.

It was in December when my husband arrived the first time.  My mother immediately noticed this boy’s smile.  There was just something different about him.

Only one week after arriving at the missionary’s home, this young man accepted Christ as his Saviour and began to grow.  Joel baptized him; and the missionary and his sons took part in helping to train this young man in the ministry.  He continued his nurse’s training, but became a big help in the ministry: preaching, going soul-winning, helping with bus routes, and participating in every church activity possible.

He eventually became as one of the family.  The little room provided for the boys (there were others besides my husband) was in a corner of the property, and their meals were served in the church building; so he did not live in the family home. But he participated in family games, church activities, and even had Christmas dinner with us one year.

He was trained by my dad.  That is such a blessing to me.  My husband likes to tell of the days when he and my brothers played basketball together.  After school, they’d ask Dad if they could go to a nearby ball court and play ball.  My Dad would say, “You can go for thirty minutes.  If you’re not back in thirty minutes, you can’t go for one week.”  They’d run out the gate…for their thirty minutes began counting when my Dad gave them permission to go.  Three minutes before their thirty minutes were up, they’d bid their friends “goodbye,” and they’d take off for home.

He was taught accountability, responsibility, obedience, and honesty by his godly father, but those qualities were further instilled in him by my own father.  My husband loves my Dad as he loves his own father. My mother cooked his meals, prepared his school lunches for him, and cared for him as if he were her own son.  Eventually, the affection for him in my parents’ hearts were as the affection toward one of their own children.

In 1994, when I left for Bible College, I missed him dearly.  He had been like a brother to me for several years.  I’m not sure when it happened, but I began to have feelings for him.  I tried to dismiss them, and thought that my time away at college would take away this “crush” I had on him.

But when I graduated in 1998, it was evident to me that I indeed loved him.  And he loved me.  Many times, my husband spoke to my dad about courting me, but my dad was not in agreement.  Eventually, my husband moved away.  By then, he had started practicing his nursing skills in the villages, and was only in our city on the weekends.

In 2001, (after much persuasion and prayer on our part) my Daddy agreed to allow my husband to court me.  It was a precious time for us.  Seven months later, with our parents’ blessings, we were united in holy matrimony.  I must say how much I admire this man for his persistence. Although he “waited” for me for over 5 years, he proved to all that his love was pure and sincere. 

What a great gift my husband is to me!  God has given me wonderful in-laws.  My father-in-law, who is now in Heaven, loved the Lord and was a great influence upon my children.  I have a sweet, godly mother-in-law, and my husband’s brothers and sisters love and accept me, and we enjoy one another’s company.

One thing that is so special about having “grown up” with my husband is that he knows many of the people that I know; he understands me because he experienced many of my childhood experiences with me.  He loves my brothers and sisters as his own.  My brother, David, became one of his best friends, and was his best man at our wedding.  It is just a special relationship that we share from so many years together.

The last few years of my dad’s life were hard ones for him because of his battle with Parkinson’s disease.  I remember on so many occasions, my husband would go see how Dad was doing.  He’d go back to his room.  So often he got muscle cramps, and my husband would gently rub his arms and legs.  Oh, how endearing that image of them together is to me today!

I remember  the day that my Dad passed away.  My mother called my husband immediately when she knew something was wrong.  When he arrived, my husband instructed my brothers to place my Dad on the floor so he could work on him.  My husband gave my Dad mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as tears streamed down his own face.  He worked furiously to revive him.  But God was calling him home, and there was nothing anyone could do.  When I arrived at my mother’s house, my husband met me outside. He had a stethoscope around his neck, and when he saw me, he shook his head and said, “He’s gone.” We wept together as he held me close.

When we entered the room where my dad was lying on the bed, my husband gently stroked my father’s head.  “He just looks like he’s sleeping.  I feel like any minute he could wake up.”

It was a Sunday afternoon, and it was decided that the evening church service be held as usual.  My husband was the music director for our church, but he said, “I just don’t think that I can lead today.”  He wept during the whole service.  What love he showed toward my dad that day!

I believe one reason I love my husband so dearly today is because he loves my family as do I.  God designed the formation of this man just for me.  He knew exactly who I needed to guide me in my adulthood, and I must say that my husband has fulfilled that role quite well.  He is not perfect, but he is the perfect man for me.

My husband works hard to provide for us, in the medical field; but his faith and dependence upon God sustains us.  He leads with humility; he guides by example; he loves fiercely and is loyal.

So you can see why I love this man.  It is my honor to be his wife.  I cannot say how grateful I am to be his helper in this life.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my Sweetheart!  I hope we live many more birthdays together.

Worthy of Honor

In March, I had the unique privilege of spending some time with my mother and my mother-in-law together.  I feel very blessed to belong to these two wonderful, godly ladies.

 Aren't they beautiful?!

Happy Mother's Day

 to the two mothers in my life.  I love you so very much,

and thank you for all you've given me.

Happy Birthday, Sarah

This morning before I sat down to read my Bible, I lit a scented candle and set it on the table next to my chair.  And I thought of my oldest sister, Sarah.

Sarah has the ability to create a relaxed atmosphere wherever she is, no matter who's around her.  I've watched her.  She lights a scented candle, pours her favorite drink in a fancy goblet, sits down amidst 12 small children, and relaxes as if she were in an expensive beach resort.  And in doing that, she sets a calming effect on everyone around her.

Today is Sarah's birthday.

From her baby book

Sarah is 22 months older than I am.  Although she is my oldest sister, she has never been bossy.  She was always the perfect playmate, and she was my best friend.

We did everything together growing up.  We graduated from High School together and went to Bible College together.  We took the same major, so we were in every single class together and spent our free hours together.  We studied for our tests together, and after our exams, whoever finished first waited for the other in the hallway to "see how you did."  She was a great source of strength and encouragement to me during those years. 

We graduated from College on the same evening and returned home to help Daddy in his mission work.  We were married the same year and had our first babies a month apart.

Although the Lord has led us to live in different cities (7 hours away), we still keep in close touch and our hearts continue to be knit together. 

Sarah and her husband are missionaries in the southern state of Veracruz, Mexico, in a very small town.  She is the mother of six children (very close in age), and yet she finds the time to be involved in their mission work.  She homeschools her children, is an excellent house-keeper, and is a loving wife.  She has a discipleship ministry and reaches out to lost women in her little town.  Her quiet time with the Lord in the mornings is a priority to her.

She is such a godly example to me.  When we are able to spend a few days together, I am always inspired and encouraged just by watching her.  She calls her children into her room individually every morning to brush their hair.  After they're dressed and ready, she prays with each child, that God would watch over them and protect them, and that they would be obedient.

Sarah and her family are surrounded by danger.  They are at risk physically, due to drug gangs and constant kidnappings (that usually end in death); their health is at risk, as typhoid and dengue are rampant in that area of Mexico; and there are spiritual dangers because of the witchcraft and demon activity.  Some of the stories that Sarah has told me have literally made the hair on my neck stand up.  I know there have been times that she has wanted to gather her precious family and flee to another place.  Yet they remain faithful, serving their Lord where He has placed them.  And they are starting to see the fruit of their labors.

Sarah lives in a small corner of the world, never demanding attention or recognition.  But since today is her birthday, I wanted you to know about her, and I want to let you know how blessed I am to have her as my sister.

I love this lady, I admire her, I respect her, and I thank God for putting us in the same family.

When I have done wrong, she has never been judgmental, but has stretched out a helping hand, lifting me up.  She's never harsh, but quietly and sweetly encourages me.  She prays for me.  I recently was having a hard time with something and sent her a message, asking her to pray for me.  She replied:  "I will be praying that God will send you a blessing today."  I prayed to the Lord, "Thank you for my sister.  Please help me to recognize the blessing when you send it."  Later that night, there was a knock on our door.  My husband said, "Anna, you're wanted at the door."  When I opened it, Sarah's youngest child was standing there with a beautiful red rose in her hand, and a smile on her face.  Sarah told her husband, "Anna needs encouraging," and she packed up her children and drove to see me. She spent over one week with us. To me, that shows an unselfish love. 

I have a treasure in this lady I call "sister".

So to you, Sarah, may your day be special.  I hope you're made to feel special, because you are.

I LOVE YOU!

And She Became His Wife

March 23, 2002.  The day I became Mrs. Andrew López.

Besides being given salvation, the man I married has been my greatest gift from my Lord.  It has been my privilege to be his wife.

Being his wife has given me experiences that have enriched my life.  Last night I sat down to jot down some things that I've experienced as Mrs. López.  The list is too long; and I could really write a book of all the exciting things we've lived together.

I will say that life with him (seven years living in a remote village...living our first year of marriage in a small room in the clinic...then moving to the more "spacious" house built by the natives...learning to live with no running water, no commodities or luxuries...being surrounded by the Indian rebels who were in constant unrest...) has made my life richer, more meaningful, more selfless. He has taught me to appreciate small things, and our journey together has been one of learning and growth.

Watching him nurse sick ones back to health, pray over and plead with the lost to be saved, teaching poor village children, and having compassion on the less fortunate have made me admire this man and love him more each passing day.  His love and concern for the orphans and widows have shown that this man's walk is genuine, for he delights in helping those who cannot repay him.

Watching him father our three children with such love and devotion have further bound my heart to the man that I call my husband.  How easy it has been for me to teach them honor and respect for the one they call "Daddy."

In unexpected change and disappointment, I have watched him trust the Lord for our next step in our lives.  He has sought the Lord and waited on Him, and together we have seen God provide.

Heart-wrenching hardship and trials have helped us grow together.  God is our Light, and His Word waters and refreshes us as we grow stronger in Him.  Growing closer to Jesus has drawn us closer to each other.

This man is patient and caring, yet firm.  He is gentle, but determined.  He's a leader with the heart of a servant.

So do you see why I am privileged to be this man's wife?

I iron his clothes and set out his shoes for him every morning.  I prepare his coffee and test that it's just right for him. I'm the one he gently kisses before leaving for his day's work, and I smell his cologne on my cheek all morning.

A phone call or a phone message tell me he's thinking about ME, and it is with great anticipation that we await his arrival from work.  Our 2-year-old squeals, "Daddy!" and it is I who watch his enthusiasm as he lovingly greets this man.  Our children wait in line for hugs from Daddy, and then it is my turn.  Yes, this man comes to my house, his car is pulled into MY garage; it is his key that opens my front door.

And it is I with whom he shares his activities of the day.  I watch him bear the weight of providing for his family.  He does it well, without complaint.

I am blessed to be his wife, to fulfill his needs as his help meet. 

13 years.  4,742 days.

And I look forward to the next 13 years!  I don't know what they may hold, but I know that if we seek to follow in the steps of Jesus, the years to come will be full of blessings, and of watching Him provide and care for us.

 

"And she became his wife; and he loved her."

Lift Up Your Eyes

"Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white, already to harvest." John 4:35

This week, my heart has been tender as I have been praying for a little 2-year-old baby girl who is in the hospital in Intensive Care.  She was in a terrible accident last Saturday, and my heart has been so burdened for her and her family.  I put myself in that mother's place, and imagine myself sitting day and night next to my baby's hospital bed, begging God to spare her life.

I think that all too often, we get so involved in our petty problems, our little corner of our world, and forget to look out to others who are truly hurting.  Satan is a master at inventing fears and cooking up "what-ifs" in our minds, and we become preoccupied all day worrying about and focused on that one thing.

I look out my kitchen window every single day and watch people go by.  I see mothers rushing their children to school; I see young people walk by, with no clue of how much their decisions today can impact the rest of their lives; I see ladies carrying burdens...I can tell by the look on their faces.  I hear my neighbors arguing and fighting nearly all day long, the mother always yelling at the children.  I have become acquainted with the routine of some of the people in my neighborhood as they pass my window day after day.

And I pray, "God, save that young man."  "Lord, give her peace that comes through a personal relationship with you."

But sometimes, when MY burden seems the heaviest, and MY problem just got bigger than everyone else's (or so I think) then I lower my gaze.  I begin to look inwardly and become focused on my own petty problems.

Not long ago, our family was parked on a busy street.  We were waiting for someone to meet us.  I dug through my purse looking for my phone.  I checked for messages, and laid my phone aside.  When I looked up, I saw 2 men at the door of a business giving false doctrine to someone inside.  (I could not see the people that the men were talking to.  They were there for at least 10 minutes.)  The Lord spoke to my heart and said, "You know the Truth.  Go tell them."  I told my husband, "I must go speak to them."  After the 2 men were gone, I went to the door of the business, and there were two ladies inside...one was a young lady, and one an older lady.  I told them that we were sitting waiting in our vehicle, and that I felt impressed to go speak to them.  I began to tell them that the Word of God is the only truth in this world, and that we can trust God's Word.  As I was speaking to them, the older lady (the mother of the younger lady who was there stood up and began to weep. She said that this past year was one of hardship and complete material loss.  She said her husband lost his job; they lost their home and their vehicle.  They had it all...and from one day to the next, they had nothing.  She poured out her heart to me, a complete stranger who just stopped in to tell them that God loves them, and that His Word is truth.

When I prepared to leave, they both (mother and daughter) gave me a hug.  They said, "I feel like God sent you here at just this moment to tell us that He sees us, and that everything is going to be okay."

If we lifted up our eyes more often, I think we would truly see people as God sees them.  People are hurting everywhere.  People who live without God also live without hope.  If you'll focus on them, you'll see hurt and desperation.

One evening last month, my daughter and I ran down to the corner store to buy some milk and bread. A very young man came into the store and asked for a "six-pack," and I thought how young he looked to be buying beer. When my daughter and I left the store, I saw that the young man had gone around the corner down a dark street and there were three VERY young girls with him.  Oh, how my heart broke when I saw them light up a cigerrette to share.  "Where are these young people's parents?" I thought.  I felt like I NEEDED to say something to them!!  As I passed them, I handed them a Gospel tract.  One of the young girls approached me to receive the tract.  I said to her, "Please don't do anything tonight that you'll regret later."  She lowered her gaze, as did the other three young people.  I continued, "And before you do anything, think of your mother!"   I went home and begged God to make them read that tract, and to get in contact with me through the contact information.  I went to bed that night with a heavy heart.

There's no telling how many times we pass people just like that every day.  They're just one step from making a terrible mistake.  Some are just one step from eternity.

But we don't notice because our eyes are turned inwardly. 

My husband and I went out together on Valentine's Day to walk around the town square.  It was a cold night, and we passed an old Indian lady who was standing on a sidewalk next to a cardboard box.  When we walked back around the square toward her, we saw that she had gotten inside the box, had put her hands inside her thin cotton blouse, and had fallen asleep.  How it broke our hearts to see her!  We went to a nearby bakery and bought her a bag of bread.  My husband tapped her on the shoulder and spoke to her.  She opened her eyes and gave us a toothless grin.  She was so grateful for the bread to eat! 

Vendors come to our doors.  How often do we realize that God sent them so we could share His love and the Gospel with them?  We ride in a taxi, and we're so engrossed in our own thoughts and errands of the day, that we don't even think about sharing Christ with the driver.

Hey...get your nose out of your phone.  Take your eyes off of your electronic devices, and lift them up to look at lost souls that pass you every day. You rub shoulders with lost people every day, and yet you have no spiritual interest in them.  When did we become numb to the hurt and the needs of others around us?  There's more to this life than social networks or a "good deal" that we might miss. And I believe we'll give an account one day for all the time wasted on insignificant things that have no eternal value.

Lift up your eyes.  Look at your children's faces when they're talking to you.  Try to see through their little eyes and into their souls and find out what's bothering them.  Talk to them.  Pray with them.

Lift up your eyes. 

"But when he SAW the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them..."  Matthew 9:36a

There Is Romance

(I wrote the following on February 14, but did not have access to the internet to be able to post it.)

After 12 years and 11 months of marriage, I can say that there is still romance.

You may imagine then, that we always have a weekly date; or that we spend all day in each other's embrace.

No, that is not true.  In fact we rarely have a weekly date.  I get a quick hug and a kiss as he's walking out the door in the mornings.  But there's still romance.

We don't spend every day together all day, and some days are so busy that by bedtime, we're so exhausted that we can't even have a sensible conversation.

But there's still romance.  When the room is full of people, and he gives me that look that makes me feel like he and I are the only people in the room.  Or when I pass his chair and give him a loving pat on the shoulder: that's our romance.

Baby is crying, and I'm feeling completely overwhelmed with the stress of the moment, and he takes the baby for a ride in the car.  That's romance. To me, that says, "I care about you."

This week has been one of the busiest for us as a family.  My husband's relatives are staying in our home due to a surgery.  I've been busy keeping everyone fed and comfortable, and besides my husband's very busy work schedule, he has shuttled people to and from the hospital as turns are taken to stay with the patient.  We have hardly had time to sit together for a meal.  I blow him a kiss as he's leaving again.

Today, I took the time to go with him to make another trip to the hospital.  Whew!  Finally, some alone time.  We can "catch up" on each other.  But he gets a phone call from a mommy with a sick baby who needs to know what to give to her baby for diarrea.  I listen as he gently speaks to this troubled mommy, calming her fears and reassuring he that her baby will be OK.  I listen with admiration.  I look over at this handsome man that I call my husband.  He is constantly going, giving, caring.  Such a compassionate man. 

When he hangs up the phone, he squeezes my hand and says, "You're doing a good job.  I know it's a lot of work, but it's not forever."

To me, that's romance.

Not necessarily if he takes me out once a week.  We hardly ever go out alone.  But there's still romance.  My time alone with him is in the evening when we have our cup of coffee together at our table and talk of the events of the day. He shares his activities and happenings of the day; and I ramble on (and sometimes on and on) about mine, while he patiently listens.

A sweet text message here and there that tells me, "I'm thinking about you."

Now, perhaps your expectation of romance is higher than mine.  But I choose to be content and let the normal happenings of a normal day satisfy my need for romance.  A coy smile; a loving pat; a call from him on his way home:  "Can I bring you something from town?"  Those are every-day things that I treasure.   My heart goes pitter-patter at the sound of his voice; I thrill at the sound of him opening the front door.  I don't want to let those little things lose significance in my life.

So, can romance still exist in marriage nearly 13 years and 3 kiddies later?  Can love still be in the air, even with a toddler who interrupts nearly EVERY conversation you try to have?

Yes!  Take the time to wink at him from across the room.  Give each other a loving squeeze every time you pass one another.  Steal a kiss when you think no one's looking (or even when little eyes are watching).  Romance is not only made of romantic outings in fine restaurats, or trips away, just the two of you.  (Honestly, we don't have the money to make frequent get-aways.)  Romance consists in the knowledge that "I'm here for you."

So to my handsome, ever-cheerful Sweetheart, "I love you, my Valentine.  I've loved you for 20 years, and I look forward to loving you the next 20 years!"