All our hopes and fears are met in him tonight.

My parents got to travel to Israel last year where they saw where the birth really happened. But truth be told, they were disappointed at how commercialism and tourism had altered the sanctity of the small town. They left with a sense of historical importance, but did not so much get to see what it looked like, or smelled like, or the kinds of people who were there.

This Christmas I am more in love with Jesus than ever, because I’ve gotten to see Bethlehem and I love the people there.

A few months ago, when I went with some of the girls who were heading back to visit their different tiny pueblos, I was struck by the lack of cell phone service, of any farming technology, and electricity. The hills were void of buildings, full of patches of trees, patches pasture, the people did not smell very good, as it was too cold to bathe outside- the only option. The children were attending to the herds and the flocks and would sometimes gather at the central market place, that usually contained a restaurant, one small type convenience store, and good space where people would bring fruits and vegetables to trade on Saturdays. Families were always in transit, someone leaving to go the nearest city for one reason or another, most used mules or donkeys for transportation. The dress is tranditional, the women with thier wool skirts and top hats, and men in farming clothes and straw hats.

I was a stranger, a city girl with jeans who looked pretty strange in the midst of the trading, but I had a connection, the girl by my side.

As I sat with Tomasa in the middle of her pueblo, she would point out the people she knew- that’s’ my uncle- she whispered in my ear. She was too shy and anxious to see her mom to say anything to him. A few more familiar faces passed by and finally she whispered- that’s my sister!

The shepherd girl, with a malnourished baby on her back.

That’s your sister?

Yes.

Are those your family’s sheep?

Yes, I used to take care of them before I started working.

Jesus, my Jesus, came to a town like Tomasa’s. And if he were born in Bolivia, she would have been invited to his birth.

Mary was just about 15 years old, they say, when Gabriel came to her. My Maria at the house is 15. She is sweet as can be, and she is just starting to accept the hard lot in life she’s been given. She loves her baby, we all do. And she’s in a foreign city, and she misses the country, and she is doing her best. We pray for her, because she is starting to open up to God.

I look at her and realize the miracle of Jesus’s birth. God came to be inside a little girl from a small town who had a pure heart, just like Maria. He let her feed him. She probably had her own ideas about remedies and maybe didn’t know how to take care of him as well as some other women in other parts of the world could have. But he didn’t care, she was worth it.

See, Jesus came in the most humble way, so the Bible says. And I love him so much for it. Because if he understood what hardship looked like, then he understands my most vulnerable friends in the world, and came to be vulnerable alongside them to show them that someone does care.

Because just when Estefany was going to give up on life, he reached out to her on the harsh streets of Cochabamba (thank you Mosoj Yan) and brought her in. He was willing to inhabit our home, which was harsh, sometimes cold and smelled bad, so Estafany can now have a home.

I love Estafany so much. She wanted me to video her giving me a goodbye message, telling me that she loves me and won’t forget me. And three months ago this jem was on the streets without enough to eat. But Jesus came to Bethlehem, so he could be the living God of the streets of Bolivia.

And yes, God loves me so much that he called me too. But what I love and is so exciting is that if I lived back then, Tomasa and Maria and Estafany, the lowly “shepherd girls” would have been the ones the angels spoke to.

My girls would have told me about Jesus.

This Christmas will be different for my girls in the house. Some of them know Jesus, some of them know peace this year. I think they some of them are finally getting that while others pass judgment on them and their babies, while others looked at them so ugly thinking of them as street rats, or “sinners”, Jesus didn’t. They, I pray, are starting to get that he just came right up next to them and said- she’s with me.

           

I am nervous, anxious, excited, and at peace with going home. I am heartbroken to leave Albergue. They are all so playful right now. We decorated the Christmas tree, danced around, and made Christmas cookies.  And I know Christmas will be a hard day for them, as they miss family, miss what was, or long for a place of their own.

But I am not leaving them alone with all their hopes and fears. I am putting them in Jesus’ hands. The one who lived their life. The one who came to bring us all hope.

Thank you Jesus.

All our hopes and fears are met in Thee tonight.

If you want to make a difference and change another Maria’s life, change an Estafany’s life, consider giving a priceless Christmas gift and giving a donation to Mosoj Yan this Christmas. They need the funds, yes, but more so what they are doing is bringing the most lowly and vulnerable home to know the Jesus who came to be with them. Let me know, I will make it happen.

Thanks family. Thanks for following, for praying, for supporting, for giving the clothes for the girls that we wrapped up for Christmas (they will LOVE them), and for loving Bolivia with me.

I am bringing home a beautiful Bolivian sister of mine to Chicago (who will be staying, working, and speaks perfect English)- look for us at church and I will definitely bring her to Wheaton in January. Thanks ahead of time for her warm welcome.

Love to you all.

I’ll be home Thursday.

God Bless.