Holy

Today, I was sitting with my ziplock of toiletries, towel and clean underwear, waiting in line for what else but the bathroom.  The rest of the kids had gone to the beach for the afternoon and it was actually quiet and peaceful in the church.  

the 2nd shower

I sat there reading a book while Carmen, the pastor’s wife, cut cucumbers and one of the girls filed her nails.  (There are some aspects of being a teenage girl that cross cultures.)  Raul, the pastor, came in and started singing.  Then Carmen joined in and their voices melted together in a simple, beautiful harmony singing “Santo, santo, santo.  Santo eres tu.” 

Holy, holy, holy.  You are holy.

60+ people have invaded their home for the past week.  They crammed their bed into the kitchen so we could sleep in their bedroom.  We’ve shoved their entire belongings into a corner, scattered all our stuff over their shelves, and then piled all our luggage on top of everything else.  


And yet every time Carmen comes by to get something from a drawer, she apologizes at least 3 times, excusing herself for bothering us so much.  She was cracking up today with the most ridiculous and joyous laugh.  Raul keeps taking pictures of us so he can remember everyone who came.  And in the midst of all the piles of clutter and craze of teenagers invading their home, they sing praises together, lifting their voices in worship to our Lord.

-Christina