Rancho 3M Mission Trip: Day 3

Dale’s final report from Mexico…

 

As you probably know by now, we came back from Rancho 3M a day early, leaving before noon on Sunday.  At the border crossing, where there were no cars in front of us, the Mexican authorities stopped us, made all of us get out of the truck, asked us some questions and went through some of our bags.  On the U.S. side, the same deal only more so.  The CPB went through everything, put a sniffer dog all around outside the entire rig and then inside the truck, and went through our cooler, and confiscated some luncheon meat that we were bringing back.  We got a little lecture, but otherwise passed through without incident, in probably a bit under an hour.  It has been worse.  The cartel has begun to plant drugs in unsuspecting drivers’ cars.  They take the license plate, with which they can apparently get duplicate keys, owner’s residence and everything necessary to get the car on the other side and recover the drugs.  A couple of doctors and a national teacher of the year had been picked up a couple of days before we got there with drugs in their cars, apparently completely unknown to the drivers.  It cost them jail time.  Probably difficult to plant drugs in a truck parked within the Orphanage, but not impossible.  The Lord watches over us, and Rancho 3M, whose grounds remain still unaffected by the violence around it.  Dean Adamek warned that my 12-year old BMW may be old, but it’s still the kind of car that attracts kidnappers and other bad kinds of attention on the Mexican side, so we left it parked at the Rancho 3M storage facility in Fabens.  It was nice to see it waiting with all of its tires and other equipment intact, and none the worse for wear other than a couple of days in the sun.

We refreshed our bodies at Rudy’s BBQ in El Paso, gassed up the cars and set off to run home.  Ken Stout had been very moderate in his driving on the trip out, when he hauled a fully-loaded trailer, tending to find an 18-wheeler going about 65-70 MPH and tucking in just behind it to draft along.  We were in convoy, and I never got such good gas mileage.  Coming home, though, I was thinking to run with the traffic flow and get home quicker, eating more gas but eating up the miles, too.  I discussed that with my passengers while driving to Rudy’s, and they relayed it to Ken when they went over to get their luggage out of the truck.  It got back to me that I was “talking smack,” and the race home was on after lunch.  Ken no longer tucked in behind any other trucks, but got right with the flow.  As I stepped on it to keep up, a kind and courteous Texas patrolman immediately pulled me over, checked out driver’s license and registration, informed me that the limit was 65 MPH and sent us off with a polite warning to watch our speed.  If you believe there are no accidents, perhaps it was a little chastening reminder from our heavenly father.  At any rate, it moderated our speed, while Ken gained ground ahead.  Out in New Mexico, our friends in the other car texted back to ask how we were doing and set out a challenge: first one to Starbucks off Cortaro Road north of Tucson to take a picture and text it to the others.  I felt it was a foregone conclusion that we would be the ones receiving the text and photo, and quit worrying about “the race.”  As we started across southern Arizona, a beautiful dark cover of thunderheads that stretched for miles let loose with a great set of rain squalls and the temperature got down in the 70’s.  Felt like God welcoming us home with a cool shower and a demonstration of the beauty and power of His creation.  We would drive through a drizzle into a rain and then into a hard rain and then into what felt like driving under a waterfall, then it would slack off until it started all over again.  I cannot speak for the others, but it filled my heart with joy.  God was in His heaven and all was right with the world that He created.

After we drove thru Tucson and pulled into Starbucks to drop off David and his son Jesse with Tim Lambros, I was amazed to see Christian get out his cell phone to take a picture and text it to Ken’s truck.  We had gotten there first when Ken stopped for gas, by only a couple of minutes, and had never seen him on the highway.  This all led to a reunion in the parking lot, some Starbucks beverages for all, and some abrazos and good-byes all around, for David and Jesse who were home, but also for everybody else since we would not meet up again in Phoenix.  Some great fellowship while serving the Lord and a feeling of accomplishment for what we did at Rancho 3M made it an uplifting way to top off the trip.

We got home before dark, with cloud cover and a little rain that followed us on up to Phoenix.  I do not want to leave the impression that Sovereign Grace sends off its work crew to behave like a bunch of teenagers (although of course Hunter Stout and Jesse Brittain are teenagers) racing their cars through three states across the southwest.  I guess that under Jonathan’s supervision we just outdid ourselves.  We worked hard Saturday, leaving a few finishing touches for Sunday morning, and everybody slept well Saturday night, got up early Sunday morning, many reading for quiet time before we had breakfast and devotions.  Then we got after it, everything seemed to fall together, we found what we needed when we needed it (always a challenge at Rancho 3M and its fabled taller, or tool shed, where there is a little of everything if you just know where to look and take the time), and finished up all the jobs by about 10:30 a.m.  Quick showers, a fond good-bye to the folks assembled for church services, and we were off a little after 11:00.

We did get in four cooling units for the classrooms, two in each building.  They should make a great difference to the comfort of the students, although I cannot believe that they will make much difference in the students’ performance and learning. The students and their teachers have consistently delivered stellar results, regardless of their accommodations.  Both Jonathan and Ken spent a lot of time in very hot, very dusty attics, getting the wiring and duct work set up.  We designated them as “attic athletes,” better than any Olympics gymnast for agility and grace, and under way tougher circumstances.  Getting two of the new coolers hoisted up onto the decks we had chained to the walls about ten feet up was a chore that concentrated all the manpower we had.

Perhaps even more important, Christian Hatch and David Brittain did yeoman service to get the cooler on the roof of the boys’ dorm working.  Jeremy, one of the summer interns who sleeps in the boys’ dorm, said that on Saturday night he slept without sweating buckets for the first time in a long time.  That cooler involved some work in the attic and a little bit of everything else—from brute force to smarts in figuring things out and then finding the parts to do it—before all the problems were solved.

Finally, the Rancho 3M chicken coop now has become one of the landmark buildings on the property, only slightly less impressive than the newly-completed baby house/building across the street from it.  Hunter, with occasional technical assistance and consulting from Ken, added an 8’x8’ screened-in fly-and-bug-free area for processing chickens.  Eighteen got processed while we were there, and wound up on the kids’ plates Saturday night.  My grandma could have processed them quicker and better than the Rancho 3M folks, but the chicken coop is full of clucking chickens, so they will have plenty to practice on.

That is pretty much it.  We promised to come back in October.