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Meet the Challenge
"As for me and my house we will serve the Lord" Joshua 24:15
Many people ask us, "How did you acquire this ranch and why have you chosen to live in a strange country, far away from friends and family?"
We are telling our story as a testimony of how God, in His infinite ways, led us to acquire Rancho Santa Marta near San Vicente, Baja California, Mexico, for a children's home and how it is being used in a special kind of ministry for His glory.
Initially in 1970, we had gone to Mexico as the directors of the orphanage at Colonial V. Guerrero, Baja, Mexico with our two sons, Billy, 6, Scott, 4, and our daughter, Joy, who was six months old. Bill and I thought our family was complete. Three months later we learned that I was expecting another child.
Under normal circumstances we would have viewed this as a blessed event, but we were ill prepared for our new assignment. There were other matters that troubled us regarding this pregnancy. The birth of one of our children was a complicated delivery, and we were now a long way from a good United States hospital, which caused us great anxiety. Another issue of concern was our financial status, as we had no health insurance. The cost of a baby's delivery in the United States was five hundred dollars. Where would we obtain this amount of money? Certainly this was no time to bring a baby into the world! What would we do? With these concerns, we put our fate into the hands of the Lord.
Our time was consumed with the needs of our family, living in two small rooms, the every day chores to be done for sixty-one Mexican children, and the pressure put upon us to learn the Spanish language. Three older girls at the orphanage spoke a little English. They would point at something and say it to me in Spanish. I learned many words but not enough to communicate with these people. One day we had a visit from a man who spoke fluent Spanish. He called Bill to one side and said, "Bill, it is quite obvious to me that you don't know the Spanish language. These young people are taking advantage of you, and using swear words that you need to be aware of so that you can correct them. They shouldn't be talking this way. It is disrespectful. I don't have the time to teach you the language but I will write down all the Spanish swear words, so that you will learn them and at least be prepared." He did this and those were the first Spanish words we learned. A couple of days later I was walking down to the dining room for lunch. Several teens had hovered under a tree. They saw me coming and began to shout at me. Immediately I recognized some of the words they were using and punished them. They were very surprised that I knew what they were saying. That was the last time they took advantage of me. I think this had to be the most frustrating part of being in this country. How were we going to raise these children up in the ways of the Lord or even be able to share the gospel with these people if we couldn't even talk to them? We needed God's help so that we could quickly learn the Spanish language. I will share with you later how God worked a miracle in this area.
Time passed. My work day consisted of hours of cooking, sorting clothes, and taking care of the children at the orphanage. Every afternoon I mopped the kitchen floor, which was no ordinary task, since the area measured fifty feet by twenty feet. At the end of my long day, usually about 10:00 p.m., I was exhausted! My bed never looked so good!
Often we had visits from American church groups. One day a visitor came to haul the trash to the dump. It was a pick-up truck and in the back he was carrying several of the orphanage children. He appeared to be an inexperienced driver and he was driving too fast. The truck hit a huge rock in the middle of the road and the driver reacted by slamming on the brakes, causing one of the little boys to fly off the back of the truck. The little boy hit the ground head first, causing blood to spurt everywhere. The children ran to get me. I ran out to find eight year old Efrain, going into shock. The injury was extensive and I had no instruments to stitch the cut on his head. Bill and I barely knew anyone in town, but we were directed to a doctor.
We sat with Efrain in the doctor's waiting room for over twenty minutes. No one seemed concerned. We decided that we could not wait any longer, so we picked up our patient and jumped into our truck. Bill stopped at a service station to ask for directions to the nearest hospital. It was a Baptist Clinic, twenty miles south via an all-dirt road with huge pot holes. There was no way to miss any of those holes! In spite of the road condition, we took off as fast as my ex-car racing husband could drive, literally flying to that hospital! Driving over that rough road, Bill cut a normal one and one-half hour drive down to half an hour. We finally arrived at the hospital. The staff was very kind even though we spoke very limited Spanish. They rushed Efrain into surgery and a Mexican doctor stitched up the wound. Although he had lost a lot of blood, when the doctor finished, Efrain looked like new.
The name of the doctor was Ernesto Cano He was the first bi-lingual person in Mexico we had met during these initial seven months in the country. What a joy to meet someone we could finally talk to! The doctor allowed me to be in the surgery room to comfort Efrain. When he finished stitching him, he assured us that he would be all right. He invited us to return sometime for a visit. Then we returned to Colonia V. Guerrero. Exhausted, I felt like I had been put through a bouncing machine. By this time I was eight months pregnant and feeling pretty weary.
Seven days later, at 5:00 a.m. I went into labor. We went back to the Clinic in San Quintin, where we had taken Efrain. We wanted the doctor's opinion as to whether or not we should try to make the trip to the States, 210 miles north. Some friends had heard about our need and sent a check to pay for our hospital bills there. Dr. Cano said to Bill, "You can try to get to the States, but if I were you I would stay here. I don't think you will even make it to Jaramillo, just forty miles north. Surely, you don't want to deliver the baby in your car?"
While Bill and Dr. Cano talked, many thoughts went through my mind. I had lived a pampered married life, enjoying all the creature comforts. I wasn't looking forward to giving birth in this rustic hospital without modern conveniences. When I overheard Dr. Cano say that Mexican women have their babies "cold turkey" without any pills or shots for pain I knew I didn't want to deliver my baby without anesthesia.
After Bill's conversation with the doctor, he gently broke the news to me. Fear gripped me and I knew I didn't want to deliver here! I used every excuse I could think of to convince them to change their minds. Dr. Cano reassured me that he had delivered many babies, and that he would take good care of me. Fear loomed up inside of me! I was in the hands of a strange doctor, in a rustic facility and with no anesthetic. I could not do it! Bill seeing the fear on my face, began to pray for me. It was too late, the baby was on its way!
Our second daughter, Cristina arrived safely. She was my easiest delivery, and without anesthesia! Exactly twenty-four hours afterward, I was on my way home. We did not know why she wasn't born in a United States hospital, as we had planned, but we know now that God had a plan for her birth in Mexico. I was very weak, so Bill thought this would be an opportunity for me to go back to the States and rest. At this point we were taking care of more than 50 children, including 33 teenagers. Each day it became apparent that we needed to know the language. We decided that while in the United States it would be a good time to take some Spanish classes. A man on our board, Paul Evans, had arranged with a Spanish school teacher to tutor me every day in the mornings without charge.
In the afternoon, I studied for hours and in the evening Paul would quiz me. After four long weeks I returned to Mexico very anxious to put my Spanish to use. Within six months I gained command of the Spanish language and was able to communicate with the Mexican people. What a joy that was to finally be able to understand what they were saying to me and to be able to share the Lord Jesus in their own language.
One year later the Mexican Government called us into the immigration office in Ensenada. We were informed that we could not continue to live in Mexico unless we legalized our status permanently. They gave us thirty days!
As U.S. citizens we renewed our visas every six months. It was time consuming to leave the orphanage to take care of this. We wanted very much to have permanent residency. Prior to our receiving this order from Mexico City, our board had hired a lawyer in Ensenada. We filled out papers and more papers, making every effort to bring it about. All of this got us nowhere.
They were paying this man $100.00 a month to resolve our legal status. After one year we found out that this man had done nothing to obtain our papers and was only benefiting from our monthly support. Now with a thirty-day notice, we had to do something or leave our ministry in Mexico. We had been given the name of a Christian lawyer in Mexico City. We were not going to give up, so we made the long trip to Mexico City to see this man who worked for Wycliffe Bible Translators. He looked through our papers, and then he announced the wonderful news, "You have a daughter born in Mexico, which means you have a legal right to live in Mexico with your daughter, who because of her birth in this country is a Mexican citizen. All you have to do is tell the authorities that you want to make a home for her here."
This was time for praise! Our baby being born in Mexico had a purpose, and was indeed a lesson that God's ways are not our ways. We had no problem getting our permanent residency. Before we left Mexico City we had in our hands the necessary legal resident papers.
Later we added another child to our family before we left Colonia V. Guerrero. Four years after Christina's birth, a baby girl charmed her way into our home. Our son, Billy, was eleven when he started telling the family that he wanted a baby sister. I had accepted a part-time volunteer job to help at the Baptist Clinic in San Quintin. One Monday, when I reported for my shift, I was told that a baby was born the day before, three-months premature. She weighed two and one-half pounds and was in an incubator. She was frail, thin, and sick, and no one thought she would live through the night. Her mother had already gone home.
In four months' time the little preemie was doing very well, and the clinic began to look for a place for her to live. She was in my care when I was on duty, and I had grown to love her and decided to ask for her custody, which was granted. What joy there was in the Lawrence home when Mom came home with "baby sister" four months old and weighing only eight pounds. Her newly acquired brothers and sisters chose her name, Cariño, which means affectionate. Cariño's mother never came to claim her, enabling us to legally adopt her.
After serving in Colonia V. Guerrero for more than nine years, we believed God had a different ministry for us. We did not know what or where. Our two boys were living with families and going to school in the States, so we were given a three-month sabbatical. With our daughters, we headed back to the United States to seek the Lord's will.
Along with this venture, another concern was put upon us by some of our board members who thought we should return to the States so that our children could experience some of their own culture. This counsel troubled our minds and became another matter to bring before the Lord. We wanted to do what was right. Hadn't God called us to serve Him in full time missions? Would we turn our back on that call?
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