We walked together, warding off dogs and mosquitos, stacks of calendars in hand.

“Here, Mommy, I’ll do this house….buenaaasss!!……mommy, she just went in and ignored me.” She looked at me dejectedly and with disappointment put the calendar back on her stack.

I called again, this time the mother came to the door.

“What is it?”

“We’re gifting calendars for the new year….” I didn’t even get to the part about the Bible verses on every month.

The ensuing “no” was definite, the slammed door inarguable.

Discouragement and offense were painted in brilliant colors across the kids’ faces. The sun was bright, the bugs biting, no sidewalk and now this lady rudely rejects them.

I gathered them closely and tried to feed their souls with Christ’s words to His disciples. I know it’s super hard but they aren’t rejecting you.

They continued helping to distribute without a word of complaint but I noticed them walking a little slower, more downcast.

“Hey my kiddies. Love you so much. I’m so proud of you but even more than that, God is watching you and He is so happy with what you’re doing for Him.”

I hardly know how to help my kids sometimes. You just sort of grasp for words and hope it works out somehow. But God truly was watching and had His own (much better) way of lifting their spirits.

We arrived to a park and shared one with a lady on her way to a Zumba class. The kids watched her through the trees.

“Mommy, oh look!! She’s showing it to all the other ladies! And…OH!! Mommy!! They are all coming over here!!!”

Sure enough, the ladies in exercise gear were on their way to ask for calendars filled with God’s word.

A bit farther down the street in the section David had done, we saw a man in his hammock reading the VIA magazine we had tucked in with the calendar. We passed by awhile later and he was still reading.

The dejection of the lady in the orange house had long dissipated. I knew their legs were achy because mine were too but huge smiles spread across their faces.

They had been touched with the magic of gospel work.

The stain of rejections, discomforts, awkwardness that often accompanies sharing God’s word wash away in the balm of one encouragement, one soul, one tiny spark of interest.

That’s the air any evangelist lives off of. Just that one person. That one town. That one hope of another church planted for God’s glory.

And that’s all we have right now in Cardenas. One family. Just met yesterday, contacts of a sister in Carmen. One meeting scheduled a week tomorrow. One hope of prolonged interest. One faith in our good God who, pandemic or no, yearns to see His Son glorified in broken lives.

We drove the 20 minutes home, rejoicing all the way.

God’s work has never been on lockdown.