Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | January 5, 2012

The Beautiful Smile

Kolkata, India

According to statistics, 27 million people on the planet today live in some form of slavery or bondage. That’s a disturbing statistic, the kind of information that gives us insight into the magnitude of a global problem. However, it’s important to peel back those numbers to learn the stories of those who live or have lived in some form of slavery. Personal stories are powerful because they can give us insight into how a person becomes a part of disturbing statistics. And, because personal stories tend to touch our hearts they can also compel us to become a part of the solution — to act in a practical and measurable way to make a difference. It’s easy for us to shake our heads and dismiss disturbing statistics and exclaim, “What a shame!” But, it’s harder to dismiss the story of just one person who has experienced the horrors reflected by the statistics.

A little more than two years ago, I led our missions ministry to became engaged in the fight against human trafficking. We now have several justice partners with whom we work both at home and abroad. Among these is an aftercare home for young girls rescued from the forced commercial sex trade in the brothels of South Asia. Every time I visit this home I am reminded of why we must remain engaged in the fight against injustice. And every time I listen to a young girl tell her story, I understand a little better why God is concerned about the welfare of the victims of injustice and all who are destitute, poor, and needy. Those trapped in the world of slavery need for us to hear their cries, to speak and to act on their behalf, and to champion their cause. You cannot unlock the shackles of the enslaved with the dull keys of ignorance, silence, and inactivity. We must become increasingly knowledgeable, intentionally engaged, and strategically active in order to bring about change.

Yesterday, I met a thirteen year-old girl who lives in the aftercare home we support. She is new here since my last visit. She has a beautiful smile but lonely and longing eyes. She approached me and stared at me for a moment and then said, “You remind me of my father.” I asked, “When was the last time you saw your father?” And with that, her story began to unfold. This young lady is from a small village in a neighboring country. Almost a year ago, her family sent her to visit her aunt in a larger city. While there, a neighbor invited her to accompany her into the city to run some errands. That was the last time she saw her aunt. She remembered waking up in a room where her descent into hell began. For four months she was kept in a drug-induced stupor so that men could have their way with her. Then she remembers waking up in a police station where she was told that she had been unconscious for four days. The courts placed her in aftercare where she is recovering from her ordeal.

I asked her how she survived through her unimaginably dark days in captivity where she was forced to service the sexual whims of evil men. “God was with me. That’s why I am saved.” And then she told me how much she misses her parents and wishes that she could contact them and just talk with them. But, she can’t even remember where her village is located. She hopes that one day she can find her way back home to her family. In the meantime, she has a safe place to live and to recover. I encouraged her as much as I could and then, as we finished our conversation, told her that she had a beautiful smile. “If I don’t smile,” she said, “I won’t be able to live.” That is a beautiful testimony to her faith and resilient spirit. This sweet little girl with the beautiful smile has hope and I am confident that one day she will be reunited with her family. I can only imagine that there will be lots of beautiful smiles on that day.

8 Comments

Posted in India, Justice

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | January 4, 2012

New Hope for Monguli

Kolkata, India

Monguli with Kingsland volunteer Kaytlin Smith.

There is absolutely nothing boring about Kolkata. This city is a sensory smorgasbord. Whether you look to the right or to the left, it’s impossible to escape the sights, sounds, and smells of Kolkata — all mixing and wafting out of a cauldron of ceaseless human activity. And when you take a moment to scratch beneath the surface you’ll find that there is nothing boring about the people. All you have to do is squeeze them gently with a question or two and their personal stories begin to seep to the surface, providing context and clues to their existence, frustrations, hopes, and aspirations. Today, I met a twelve year-old girl, just a face in the crowd of young students attending the only school in the slum of Udayan Pally, a school founded by my friend Pastor Rudra. Her name is Monguli, the oldest daughter of a Bengali cobbler and a maid trying to support their three children on the edge of existence in a hovel crammed among thousands along a foul-smelling canal.

Monguli’s family survives on the equivalent of less than two US dollars a day. Struggling to make ends meet, Monguli’s mother withdrew her from Pastor Rudra’s New Hope School last May and sent her to work as a live-in maid for a family of means. It was a tough choice but the family needed the extra forty-cents a day that Monguli earned by cleaning floors and toilets and dishes and silverware and clothes. At every opportunity, Monguli begged her mother to allow her to return to their home and to school. Pastor Rudra’s wife, Mita, repeatedly begged and reasoned with Monguli’s mother, trying to get her to understand the value of a good education for her daughter. Finally, in October of last year, Monguli’s mother admitted that she had made a mistake by taking her daughter out of school and forcing her to work as a maid. Monguli returned to New Hope School where she continues to excel in her studies. She is a beautiful little girl who truly has new hope.

The slum village of Udayan Pally is crowded with poor Bengali Hindus for whom hope is something elusive and out of reach. The concept of “the future” doesn’t exist here — only surviving today. But, Pastor Rudra wants to change that by educating the children of these refugees and squatters who have staked out a tenuous claim on life on the outskirts of Kolkata. Having visited and served at this school over the past couple of years, I can see remarkable progress in the education of the children who attend. Our ladies team is serving at New Hope School this week. Already they are impressed by Pastor Rudra’s huge vision and even bigger heart for the welfare of a village that is not even on the newest maps of Kolkata and its environs. But what is quietly happening at this little school with more than one-hundred students is indeed bringing new hope to many families. Perhaps one day in the future somebody else will ask Monguli to share her story. I know that it will be a more beautiful narrative because of the work of one man and his wife who did not forget about her when her mother sent her to work as a maid.

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Posted in India

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | January 3, 2012

The Joy of Familiar Faces

Kolkata, India

I find both joy and comfort in seeing familiar faces when I am away from home. One of the first things I did after arriving in Kolkata was to visit the folks I know along AJC Bose Road. Over the past years I have become friends with beggars, shop keepers, a waiter at a hotel restaurant, a barber, a Muslim laundryman, several nuns at Mother House (headquarters of Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity), and the staff and security guards at the Baptist Missionary Society guesthouse. I have visited each of these folks over the past day and enjoyed smiles, hugs, hearty handshakes, and lots of conversations. And today, I made a new friend — a young Muslim man who runs a cell phone store next to Mother House. I was able to spend more than an hour conversing with him in his shop. We have agreed to stay in touch via email.

This morning, my old friend Don, the guy who handles the logistics for our trips here, and I went to the airport to meet Kay Smith and our Kingsland ladies. Once again, it was wonderful to see their familiar faces as they walked out of the terminal building pushing their luggage carts. Even though most of us see each other every week at church, seeing one another in Kolkata was like a mini family reunion with hugs and smiles and excited conversation. And, although tired from travel, we spent a few hours together getting oriented to life and landmarks on AJC Bose Road and the surrounding area. We visited Mother House, played with the kids at Sishu Bhavan (Mother Teresa’s home for orphans), and traveled by motor-rickshaws and trolley cars to get a quick bite to eat before going to bed. Over the coming days our ladies will work at the slum school we support, with the ladies in a vocational training sewing center we helped to finance, spend time with girls rescued from brothels, visit our justice partners in the city, and visit a ministry to kids rescued near the railroad station that handles a million passengers a day.

There is something really good about returning to the places where we have worked to build relationships and partnerships that are helping to advance God’s interests. Like me, the folks we work with and those we serve are always happy to see our familiar faces. Every time we return someone will say, “You’ve come back!” It means a lot to the folks here to know that we are committed to a long-term relationship with them and the people of Kolkata. I’m glad that they enjoy seeing our faces as much as we enjoy seeing theirs. Whether in Kolkata, India or Katy, Texas, it’s worth taking the time to get to know people and to bring a little joy into their lives. Every time we leave home we should make it a point to carry “a little balm and a little honey” (Gen. 43:11) with us in order to bring both healing and happiness to those we meet along our journey. May we live in such a way that others will smile and be filled with joy when they see our familiar faces.

6 Comments

Posted in India

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | January 2, 2012

As Sisters Should

Kolkata, India

Cindie and Cheryl at age 16.

My wife Cheryl and her sister Cindie are eight months apart. They were providentially brought together under one roof to be raised by a loving couple who could not have children of their own. Cindie was adopted first, and then eight months later when Cheryl was born, she was adopted into the same family. Their adoptive parents, Gene and Frances Crane, provided a wonderful Christian home for these girls. Cindie and Cheryl have always believed that God brought them together because it was His special plan for them to be sisters and to have Gene and Frances as their parents. God gave them to Gene and Frances — but He also gave them to each another. As sisters, they have shared a lifetime of experiences from childhood to their respective marriages to having kids of their own in the same hospital where they were born and given up for adoption. They share a bond with and a love for one another that is rock solid — one that has become even stronger as they have cared for Cindie’s husband Craig in the final days of his life.

I have called Cheryl a few times from India to get updates on Craig. Every time I have called, Cheryl has broken down and wept. She has wept because of Craig’s intense suffering and obvious decline. And she has wept for her sister whom she loves. She knows that she must return home and then back to work this week but doesn’t want to leave Cindie’s side. As I have prayed for Craig and also for Cindie and Cheryl, I have been especially thankful that Cheryl has had the opportunity to be by Cindie’s side to help care for Craig through the holidays. Sisters were made for times like this. And as I have reflected on the more than thirty-years that I have known Cheryl and Cindie, I am impressed by how they have loved and respected and supported each other throughout those years. I have never known them to be unkind to one another or to fight or argue. I always know when Cindie calls because Cheryl lights up. I can hear the delight in her voice — the kind of genuine joy that you can’t manufacture but that is the product of a lifetime of gratitude for what God did when He brought them together as sisters. Cindie and Cheryl have always treated each other as sisters should — with mutual love, admiration, and respect.

The Psalmist wrote, “Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” (Ps. 133:1) — and indeed God is also pleased when sisters dwell in unity! Over the past thirty-three years of ministry I have learned that tough times do not always bring siblings together. And I have also learned that siblings who are together are better equipped to face the toughest of times. Watching and listening to Cheryl and Cindie through these difficult days of Craig’s imminent death has reminded me of how blessed Craig and I are to be the husbands of these remarkable sisters. Although the days ahead will be difficult as Craig takes his final breaths, I know that Cindie will be able to take another breath and another step because of the love and support of her family and of her sister who loves her as a sister should.

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Posted in Death and Dying, Home and Family, India | Tags: , , ,

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | January 1, 2012

Totus Tuus

Kolkata, India

I am back in Kolkata on this first day of the New Year. I have said before that I feel strangely at home in this city of teeming masses. I first visited Kolkata three years ago to serve the least of these at Mother Teresa’s homes. I think that is when it happened and why it happened that I feel drawn to return here. I feel connected to those I have served at Mother Teresa’s homes. Every time I return I am anxious to see them again. Jesus said, “For the poor you always have with you…” (John 12:8). When I read those words I often think that Jesus must have been thinking of Kolkata because it seems the poor have all gathered here. This city is over-saturated with people who live and die on the streets. And this is the city where Mother Teresa unwittingly captured the imagination and respect of the world because of her service to the poor.

Mother Teresa made a difference in the lives of the poor because she made herself totally available to God. It’s amazing what God can accomplish through those whose heart is completely His. Reading several books about the life of Mother Teresa got me interested in learning more about Pope John Paul II, one of the most universally respected leaders in the history of the Catholic Church. Although I am not a Catholic, I was fascinated by the life of this pope. While reading about him I came across the words “Totus Tuus” — a Latin expression that means “totally yours.” Totus Tuus was Pope John Paul II’s apostolic motto, one that he borrowed from a prayer-book by Saint Louis de Montfort. He chose these words to express his devotion to Mary. I do not agree with my Catholic friends about the veneration of Mary, but I do like the expression totus tuus. In its larger context the text that inspired the Pope is this: Totus Tuus ego sum, et omnia mea tua sunt. Accipio te in mea omnia. The translation of these words is, “I belong entirely to you, and all that I have is yours. I take you for my all.”

As I think about the year ahead I have decided to borrow Pope John Paul II’s motto but to apply it to my relationship with Jesus Christ. I am not big on making New Year’s resolutions, but I do like the idea of taking ownership of something that will challenge me to grow in my relationship with Christ in the New Year. I can think of no better challenge than to say to Christ, “I belong entirely to you, and all that I have is yours. I take you for my all.” I have a choice regarding who owns me and who I will serve. I choose to renew my commitment to Christ, to make myself His servant, to live out my faith in practical ways, and to share the life-transforming gospel message with others. And, lest I forget, I am determined to start each day of the New Year by saying to Christ — Totus Tuus.

Happy New Year! Live this year in such a way that if it is your last, then even your dust will praise God and tell the world of His faithfulness (Ps. 30:9).

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Posted in India, Mother Teresa of Kolkata, New Year Reflections

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | December 30, 2011

A Significant Day

Khondhamal Hills | Orissa, India

Today was a significant day in the Khondhamal Hills in Orissa, India — one of those days in which one can see how God has woven many threads together to make something beautiful. My part of the story here started with what I thought would be a one-time visit in the Winter of 1998. Little did I realize when I left these hills to return to my home that one of the threads of my heart had become entangled here and would unwittingly keep me connected to a man named Sudhansu. Years later, when persecution of Christians intensified, Sudhansu opened his home to boys from poor Christian families to ensure that they had a safe place to live and received a good education. When he started this initiative, my friend Jeff Hastings, a Houston attorney who had traveled with me to Orissa, agreed to personally support the work. Later, my friend Jerry Smith, who cares for orphans in Mongolia, agreed to take over support and to help Sudhansu care for an additional 45 boys. And then, finally, after the death of Kingsland member Diane Patterson, I felt a tug on that thread that had kept me connected to Sudhansu.

Because of the generosity of the people of Kingsland and those who loved Diane, a significant amount of money was entrusted to our missions ministry to honor Diane’s love for the nations and especially for the people of India whom she loved. I felt a heavy weight of responsibility as the steward of these funds but God gave me great peace about leading our missions ministry to invest in Sudhansu’s work in the Khondhamal Hills. Within a short period we saw the need to purchase land and to build a campus for the one-hundred boys in Sudhansu’s care. And so, we worked with Sudhansu to purchase a hectare of land on which to build a dormitory and dining facility. For the past two years we have worked to see the construction of this campus through to completion — not an easy task because of the resistance of Hindus in the area who would not sell us building materials and supplies. But, by the grace of God and in spite of opposition, the facilities are built and ready for the boys to occupy.

Today, Marcus Patterson and his children Daniel and Danae had the opportunity to see the campus built in loving memory of Diane. It was an emotional day for all of us as we stood in the midst of what is a part of Diane’s legacy — a home for the boys of the poorest Christian families in the Khondhamal Hills. Many of these boys come from homes that were completely destroyed by Hindu extremists and others have lost parents in the outbreaks of persecution in the area. But because of the concern of Sudhansu and the generosity of the people of Kingsland who gave memorial gifts after Diane’s death, these boys have a new home complete with new beds. The beds are a pretty big deal because these boys have slept on the floor, two to a blanket, for the past seven years. But today, everything changed because God wove something beautiful with the threads of several lives, including all who gave generous gifts. Only heaven will reveal the rest of the story as the boys in Sudhansu’s care serve the purposes of God in their generation.

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Posted in India

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | December 29, 2011

A Monument to Love

Agra, India | 28 December 2011

Casting its reflection on the still waters of the Yamuna River, the Taj Mahal is regarded as one of the seven new wonders of the world and a must-see travel destination. This meticulously engineered epochal monument was built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal who died while giving birth to their fourteenth child. Construction began in 1632 and took 22,000 workers a total of 22 years to complete. The beauty, symmetry, and detail of the monument is nothing short of amazing. But what is even more amazing is the love that inspired Shah Jahan to build this mausoleum for his favorite wife who lies entombed under the canopy of the central dome. Hundreds of thousands of visitors from all over the world travel to Agra annually to see Shah Jahan’s marble ode to his beloved wife Mumtaz — a monument that is arguably the most recognized icon of the Indian subcontinent.

When planning this trip to India for Marcus Patterson and his children to dedicate the boys home that our missions ministry constructed in memory of his late wife Diane, I asked Marcus if there was anything else he wanted to see during the few days allotted for our trip. He immediately said that he wanted to take his children to see the Taj Mahal. Having previously visited the Taj Mahal on two occasions, this was an easy request to fulfill, even on our tight schedule. As I watched Marcus and Daniel and Danae at the Taj Mahal, my thoughts turned from Mumtaz Mahal to Diane Patterson, a loving wife and mother who spent two years of her life serving the people of India. Not many people know that Diane had earned two masters degrees from New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. Diane devoted herself to equipping her family to love God and modeled passionate devotion to the purposes of God at home and among the nations.

The school we have come dedicate in her memory is not a Taj Mahal but instead an ordinary and functional building. However, those who gave the funds given to construct it were inspired by Diane’s love for God. The building we have constructed may not last for centuries or will never become a must-see destination visited by thousands, but it will last for at least the next generation or two and will be a place where orphans and the children of the poorest Christian families in Orissa will find refuge and receive a good education. I can hardly wait to see the expressions on the faces of Patterson family as they visit the home for the first time — a place that will be something more memorable and meaningful to them than their visit to the Taj Mahal. In many ways, the home we have constructed in Diane’s memory is itself something of a monument to love — to the kind of love that will equip children to love God, love people, and serve His purposes in spite of the hate and persecution that Christ-followers in Orissa have experienced in recent years.

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Posted in India

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | December 27, 2011

Gold and Silver Threads

Houston, Texas en route to New Delhi, India

Everything changed for the Patterson family on June 15, 2006, the day that Diane, wife and mother of two, was killed in a tragic auto accident on Interstate 10 in Houston. Nothing can prepare a family to receive that kind of news — the worst kind of news that forces one to live with the reality of the unexpected and unexplained loss of a loved one. The years since Diane’s death have been difficult for her husband Marcus and their children Daniel and Danae. Not a day goes by that they do not miss Diane and wish that the events of June 15 had been as normal as those of any other day. And because we are human and try to make sense of the things we will never understand on this side of heaven, it’s easy to have those “If only” type of thoughts — “If only Diane had left the house five minutes earlier or five minutes later, she might still be with us.” Fortunately, we have a sympathetic Savior who understands. After the death of Lazarus, Martha approached Jesus and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21).

The fact of the matter is that we will not fully understand things like the tragic death of a loved one until we see God face to face. In 1996, I visited the home of Corrie ten Boom in Harlem, Holland. Corrie and her family provided a hiding place for Jews during the Second World War. In her home, our guide showed us a needlepoint that Corrie had stitched and later framed. “It was her favorite piece,” our guide said as he pointed to what appeared to be a chaos of threads behind the glass of the frame. But then he turned it over to reveal what, to my surprise, were the words to “The Weaver,” a poem I had memorized years earlier. The words of this poem assure us that one day we will fully understand.

My life is but a weaving,
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the remain why

The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver’s skillful hands,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

Although Diane’s death was tragic, it is not a tragedy because she was a deeply devoted follower of Jesus. And because we believe the promises of God are true, we grieve with hope. In the months following Diane’s death, our missions ministry received several generous memorial gifts. Because Diane had spent two years of her life in India as a journeyman with the International Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention, it seemed right to invest in building a boarding home for the children of persecuted Christian families in Orissa, the Indian state with the worst record of persecution of Christians in recent history. After two years, the initial phase of our campus is complete. The boys in the Diane Patterson Bethany Home will not only have a safe place to live, but will continue to receive the very best Christian education. This home is just one of those “threads of gold and silver” in the tapestry of Diane’s life and legacy.

I am privileged to be escorting Marcus, Daniel, and Danae to India to dedicate the boys home in Diane’s memory and to help move in the almost one-hundred boys in our care. Our friend Sean Cunningham who serves on Kingsland’s Media Staff is with us to document the occasion on video that we will show to the Kingsland family in the coming weeks. Please pray for the Patterson family as they honor the memory of Diane by officially dedicating and opening the boys home in her honor. And pray for the boys who will one day become godly husbands, fathers, leaders, and evangelists and who will represent the interests of God’s kingdom in one of the toughest places for Christians to live. When God finally unrolls the tapestries of the lives of each of these boys He will also explain to them the beautiful threads of gold and silver He included after the death of Diane, a woman they never knew but who loved the people of India.

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Posted in India

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | December 24, 2011

The Christmas Truce

Something remarkable and unexpected happened on the first Christmas of the first World War, only five months after the outbreak of war in Europe. Allied and German troops were engaged in trench warfare on the battlefields of Flanders in Belgium along the Western Front. In some places the trenches were less than 60 yards apart with the no-man’s land between them littered with the bodies of dead soldiers. In the days leading up to Christmas, men on both sides had received gifts from home. Many of the Germans, who had a direct line from home to the front, received table-top trees with candles clamped to the branches — a German tradition. Just after midnight on Christmas Day, the German soldiers placed their trees along the parapets of their trenches and lit the candles. Then, the Allied troops heard the familiar sound of Silent Night coming from the German trenches. They feared this might be a trick until unarmed German soldiers climb out of their trenches and called out Merry Christmas. Soon soldiers from both sides gathered and met between the trenches. They exchanged Christmas greetings and gifts, retrieved and buried their dead, and even competed in a soccer match.

Those who were there and survived wrote to their loved ones about the spontaneous and extraordinary Christmas Truce of 1914. Percy Jones of the Queen’s Westminster Regiment wrote, “Altogether we had a great day with our enemies, and parted with much hand-shaking and mutual goodwill.”  Corporal John Ferguson of the Seaforth Highlanders captured the irony of the truce, “What a sight; little groups of Germans and British extending along the length of our front. Out of the darkness we could hear the laughter and see lighted matches. Where they couldn’t talk the language, they made themselves understood by signs, and everyone seemed to be getting on nicely. Here we were laughing and chatting to men whom only a few hours before we were trying to kill.” Captain R. Armes of the 1st North Staffordshire regiment reported, “It was a curious scene – a lovely moonlit (Christmas) night, the German trenches with small lights on them, and the men on both sides gathered in groups on the parapets. It is weird to think that tomorrow night we shall be at it again. If one gets through this show it will be a Christmas time to live in one’s memory.”

In 1984, musician John McCutcheon wrote a ballad entitled Christmas in the Trenches, telling the story from the viewpoint of Francis Tolliver, a fictional British soldier from Liverpool. The last stanza of the ballad is a great reminder that the men on both sides of the trenches were the same — a lesson worth remembering at Christmas and throughout the year.

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell,
Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lessons well,
That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle we’re the same.

I leave for India the day after Christmas to dedicate our boys home — The Diane Patterson Bethany Home — in the state of Orissa. This state has the worst record of persecution against Christians in recent years. As I was writing this post I received an email from the director of our boys home. His email is a reminder that in some places on the planet there is still much tension at Christmas. Please pray for me as I escort the Patterson family and Sean, our KBC videographer, to India to dedicate the boys home. And please pray for peace on earth this Christmas. Below is what our director wrote to me this morning. I will post updates along the way as I have opportunity.

“We as Christian community in our District were under great tension and mentally tortured till today the 24th Dec. A strike was called by the group who did persecution in 2008 and most were scattered for months. It was called from 24th to 27th December so that Christmas celebration be disturbed. From our side we approached the District authorities requesting to take care of the situation. After several meetings, finally it was called off this morning. District authorities took uttermost pain to help us celebrating Christmas peacefully. Police forces are deployed to most of the churches to watch. Thanks for your continued prayers for us. Looking forward to see you after a few days. Wishing you happy Christmas and blessed New Year 2012.”

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Posted in Christmas Reflections, India

Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | December 22, 2011

A Malaysian Tamalada

Earlier this month I posted a blog about the history of the humble tamale and about my wife Cheryl’s tamalada or tamale-making party. My memories of Christmas are not only anchored to the people and places of my childhood, they are also connected to the foods that we enjoyed during the holidays. The tamalada was always a fun social event that was about more than making tamales, it was about bringing people together. That’s why my memories of Christmas are not only about delicious food, but about the laughter and conversation that mixed with the aroma of freshly steamed tamales and all kinds of baked goodies. Cheryl and I continue to keep traditions like the tamalada in our home because this is one tradition that gives us one more opportunity to stay meaningfully connected to others.

Tamales wrapped in banana leaves.

Yesterday, our youngest daughter Gina, who is currently living in Malaysia, hosted her own tamalada. Using a combination of Skype and email with Cheryl, Gina made a list of all of the ingredients she would need. She and Cheryl talked about how long to cook the meat, how to prepare the masa, and all of the other intricacies of tamale making. Gina then invited friends from the nations over to her home to make tamales. When we spoke via Skype, Gina told me that she and her friends had the best time together. That makes me happy because that is what a tamalada is supposed to do. Gina also said that the most challenging thing was substituting banana leaves for corn husks, but they managed to make the leaves work and cooked several dozen tamales. The tasty treats are in the freezer and will be served this week at a Christmas party for students. How cool to think that many international students will get to taste a tamale for the first time and learn a little about another culture as they listen to the Christmas story.

Friends from Nigeria and China.

Food can bring people together and open doors to share the story about Jesus. In Acts 10, Peter had a vision in which God basically nullified the Jewish dietary laws and prepared Peter to meet a Gentile named Cornelius. By removing the obstacle created by dietary laws, God opened the door for Jews and Gentiles to have fellowship around the same table. That’s a good thing and a good starting place for sharing the gospel. Christmas is a great time to connect with others around the table or by taking a plate of cookies to co-workers or neighbors. It’s also a great time for keeping the traditions that keep us connected to others. There are plenty of things in our world that keep us distanced from others. I believe that the world would be better served by the goodwill and fellowship generated by a few more tamaladas.

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Posted in Christmas Reflections, Home and Family

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