NEWSLETTER: JANUARY, 2002

It hardly seems possible, but it's probably a good time to look at some Spectrum statistics for 2001. During the past 12 months, we have distributed tons of food, truck loads of clothes and shoes for children, hundreds of gifts and blankets as well as tarps to ward off rain and cold. We have helped hundreds medically, exposed hundreds of kids to the Gospel and fed thousands of poor people. We have challenged hundreds of American kids and adults to use their lives to make a difference in our world.

While statistics have their place, too often they tend to lose individuals into a mix of cold logistics and faceless humanity. Our numbers might be impressive but the important question is, "How are we affecting lives?"

While we work with many people in a variety of places, our focus continues to be the individual. Our bottom-line question remains, "What are we doing to challenge and change people's lives both physically and spiritually." I'm inclined to believe that that's where your heart is also.

If you have noticed, I keep my writing pretty well to people. My challenge each month is not to find a story to write about but rather in selecting which story to share. Each day of the week Spectrum is living a number stories as we work back and forth across our common border with Mexico.

Last night, while driving down the road in Grupo Mexico, I saw Oskar talking with a couple of young men. I stopped, backed up, then motioned him over to my car. Oskar is more than 20 now but has the same handsome smile he had as a kid. Last night was Christmas Eve and it was fitting that I wish him a Merry Christmas. While we chatted in the dark street, I couldn't help remembering how far he has come. It was many years ago that I opened the door to a small dirty shack on the side of a canyon and first met Oskar. He was about nine years old and was taking care of his little brother and sisters while his mother was out working the streets. "Poor" would hardly describe the situation. There was no food, no room, no diapers, not even a window and of course no school for him. Thanks to God and you folks, we were able to step in and help the situation. "How is your wife and baby?" I asked. He smiled and replied, "Fine." "Where do you live now?" He pointed across the street to a one-room apartment above a store. "Are you working?" I asked. "Yep, I have a job." I put my arm out and grabbed his shoulder fulling him close to me and asked, "How about drugs?" He smiled and said, "I'm clean, von." "Merry Christmas, Oskar." "Merry Christmas, von," he replied as I drove off.

I saw and talked with several other teens last night. A number of them we were able to enter their lives at a critical time and in a positive way and--like Oskar-- help make changes that resulted in a healthier lifestyle.

You folks have invested with us to make this people ministry possible. We thank you for your faithfulness.

Often a radio call can change the subject. This one did. I just received a call from the Zone (red-light district of Tijuana). Tim was looking around for little Marcos. You might remember his story. The word on the street is that he was kidnapped by the Mexican Mafia and put into prostitution. A very real scenario. Pray with us for Marcos and the many thousands of kids like him huddled somewhere n the dark corners of this world. It seems the more we dig down into the darkness of Tijuana, the more living wreckage we find.

Again, thank you for your prayers on our behalf and your gift this month. We will try to be good stewards of your money and ambassadors of your love.

December 2001

It's great to actually be back in Mexico. I think seeing the kids has been the most meaningful aspect to my return. Their reaction to seeing me "crippled" was somewhat amusing. They had never seen me with a limp and a brace and all had a million questions. The first question they shared was, "Why haven't you been here for so long?" The next, "What happened to your foot?" "No, it's my knee; here," I explained. I have spent a lot of time retelling the story of my accident, where I was and what a torn tendon can do to you.

The two hundred plus kids at the children's jail were very friendly with lots of similar questions. On our work days, the neighborhood kids were also excited to see me again. Perhaps one of the small orphanages, the Arca, which I often visit, revealed a lot deeper feelings about a friend that doesn't return. As soon as the little kids spotted my car, they started yelling, "von's here! von's here!" Then as I slowly left my van and walked up the dirt road toward the orphanage, they noticed my limp and brace. They stood there quietly looking at my leg. Then, all at the same time, the questions started, "What's wrong? What happened? How did it happen?"

A few minutes later, Chela, the lady in charge, smiled and told me that a few weeks ago, the kids were saying, "von never comes: I guess he doesn't love us anymore." Sometimes, it's difficult to understand just how much a faithful visitor who brings a little fun into their lives each week or so can become such an important person. The kind of children with whom we work are very insecure. They have lost so many people in their young lives; one more doesn't help.

Later, as I limped into Casa de Emmanuel, it was getting rather dark. I had hardly gotten inside the fence when two of the little kids came up, each grabbed one of my hands to "help me" walk to their "home." Casa de Emmanuel isn't quite an orphanage but rather a house of refuge where about a dozen little misfit kids live together. We are supporting their expenses, including food and schooling. It's nice to be loved by these neat little kids.

I guess I'm simply saying it's nice to return. It's nice to be back. It's nice to be loved and needed.

In my absence, the ministry continued. The clubs are booming, food continues to be purchased and distributed, and medical needs are met. American groups continue to serve with us each week, and, praise God, (and thanks to you folks), we are still in the black while other mission organizations are really feeling the pinch.

Thanks more than ever for your prayers. Now, it's Christmas time. Another year and another challenge of faith.

May God bless each one of you. I, and the entire team, wish you a wonderful and, perhaps, more meaningful Christmas and an encouraging New Year. Thanks so much for your part with us this past year.