We’re in traffic somewhere in Veracruz. The sugar cane fields are being cut, burned and replanted. Van claims it’s 47 C outside. I believe it. It’s pretty toasty in here. According to X, a semi burst into flames a few kilometers up ahead so the highway is down to one lane. It’s a 12 hour drive to Oaxaca, so why don’t you come along for the ride and keep us company?

We left just after 5 am, the sky just beginning to turn a rosy pink. The last thing to do before leaving the house was to scoop Galilea from bed, still sound asleep. As I strapped her into her car seat she started to wake up. “Mommy, where are we go…oh!! Are we going to Oaxaca?!!!!” Her excitement is real; her heart has a deep affinity with her birthplace.

The kids napped a bit while we talked. About 7 they woke up and we dolled out cinnamon rolls and juice boxes for breakfast. Then they watched a bit while we listened to Tucker. Quick rest stop, on our way again to the tunes of Raffi and hymns, a sermon in Spanish. And now, traffic.

In some ways it feels weird to be out in the wide world. David was at a conference in Colombia a couple weeks ago and a couple days after he left, our van broke down. The mechanic eventually came and towed it to the Island of Carmen where it was for another week. So, after being homebound for two weeks, being stuck in traffic somewhere isn’t quite as frustrating as it could be.

Lord willing, we’ll get in this evening to our rental for the next month. It is about 15 minutes away from Magdalena Apasco. We plan to have meetings three days a week and special studies with the men, evangelism and any other specific needs we see come up the other days. Your prayers for this month are so appreciated. There are some who have started coming back to the meetings who need to be saved, some need to be baptized, some need discipled. Please pray this month would be one of blessing and fundamental growth. We’ll be there until the beginning of May so hopefully a more extended time of concentrated work will be a help to many.

You can read HERE about how the work in Oaxaca began, and if you have followed this blog over the last couple years you’ll know that I’ve given sporadic updates whenever we visit.

From here, we’ll eventually pass the exit for the port of Veracruz, cross the mountains at the Maltrata Pass, then head south into Oaxaca, past rolling hills dotted with cacti and joshua trees, until we reach the the Etla Valley whose fertile fields felt the boot heels of Hernán Cortéz and 300 years later, those of Benito Juárez. It’s not hard to imagine those men in Oaxaca. It is a state that clings to the past, to their religious traditions. It feels surreal to walk up behind them attempting, one family at a time, to turn it all on its head.