Norris Family News

Erika's new job - A blessing from the Lord!

Thank the Lord, after 16.5 months of tiny steps toward employment, I did work my first day on my own in a tiny local rural clinic. I had hoped to be employed right here in Fabens, but that process seemed to have stalled, and I’m so thankful that I have this other situation instead. The clinic is essentially a short single wide trailer with 4 exam rooms, a small lab, pharmacy and several other trailers for an employee break room, medical records and space for community educators to work with patients. It is simple but appears to be effective. It is a lovely blend of third world medicine and reasonable access to….well, MOST basics you might need. This clinic is one of three which never turns anyone away, regardless of ability to pay, and they never ask questions about legal status. Medicines aren’t free, but at $3.00 a prescription on average, most patients seem to be able to hold themselves together. A small percentage of the patients speak English.

My first day on my own was Tuesday. I arrived early with various things organized that I thought would help me work more efficiently. I was concerned that the language challenge would slow me down so I organized my understanding of labs, charts and available meds (talk about a restricted formulary!). The medical assistant who knows all was slightly late (which she never is, the staff assured me). I noticed that the waiting room was absolutely jam packed (that would be about 25 people) at 8:00AM and tried not to think about how I was the only provider around. I knew some of them were there to refill meds and some for the lab, and hopefully just a few of them for me. Once the charts started coming, they came steadily. I marveled at how many “WIs” there were (walk-ins) and reflected on the fact that people wrestling with poverty have unpredictable lives, and the scheduled visits were often “no-shows”, so the staff were filling the slots with walk-ins. I soon figured out that my printed schedule had nothing to do with what I was actually seeing, so disregarded it and had no idea if I was way behind or keeping up OK. I decided not to ask, as I couldn’t move any faster. Kindly the staff informed me that the stack of refill requests should also be tended to promptly; as poor people don’t have rides very often, and they would just wait in the waiting room until the refill was tended to. At the end of the day they apologized profusely for how many patients I had seen (16 including 2 physicals) and explained that the computer and scheduling were all fouled up and I normally would not see so many in a half day. Wow! That was music to my ears, and gave me hope for keeping up in the future.

God is gracious, and somehow the language barrier was almost a non-issue. There were a very few patients whom I realized I wasn’t understanding half the time, but I could get direct answers to my questions and they weren’t very ill, so I didn’t call for translator help. A lot of language acquisition seems to be a matter of squelching anxiety. By the end of the morning I was having a conversation with a lady about her almost 90 year old father having a stomach infection underlying his ulcer history and probably prostate cancer as well. We discussed various options they might pursue and I felt like we were understanding each other just fine. I thought that was pretty good! However, I can’t discuss theology, politics or recipes very well, just medicine.

By far most of the people were extremely polite, gracious and thankful for the little clinic and the good care there. Most of the people were there for hours due to the nature of simple clinics and many walk-ins, but they were as pleasant as could be. I met several people with good awareness of their chronic health issues which were either well-controlled or the people seemed to know what to be concerned about. A few of them were quite frustrated with the fact that the last doctor quit rather suddenly (for a higher-paying job, I understand). I tried very hard to remember to greet each patient appropriately and close every visit formally. Hispanic people almost always have impeccable manners in these matters, and I do not. I’m sure I slipped up a few times.

We’re surely thankful for a job situation which seems perfectly suited to the needs of our family and the ministry here. My boss didn’t even blink an eye when I mentioned what schedule I would prefer, and I have the freedom to work more if I want to. My boss, an intense, passionate activist for the poor, is always saying dramatic and encouraging things about my presence in the tiny clinic. I think he is being supportive and genuinely enthusiastic also. Since I work only AMs, we hope that when Thaine is co-leading a team he will still be able to slide over the border and join them for their afternoon activities, which is the bulk of the day, usually. Meanwhile, it’s good for the kids to have Dad as supervising parent sometimes, too. The morning school is getting done fine, and I think they get better lunches when Dad is in charge!

--Erika

It's all worth it

This summer has been a challenge. We have had an outreach every other week pretty much since January, and in May we lost a foundational family for the rest of the outreach season. All of us remaining at The House of Cornelius were pressed hard as we pushed through the season. We were either leading a team or in some kind of all-consuming support role. (Praise God. In the midst of it we were able to catch moments of family time and I even had some special times with the older kids as we travelled back and forth to Colorado in support of an outreach team.)

Added to this was the worst flash flood disaster the cities of Juarez and El Paso had experienced in many years. As God would have it, we had our last two, back-to-back outreaches right during the time when Juarez had evacuated people into shelters. Churches and individuals close to IFM poured out supplies, clothing and support for food and we were able, with both of the outreach teams to bring relief in Jesus' name to those in need.

God raised up so much that, the week after the last outreach team, we were able to return to a washed-out colonia with another huge load of food, clothing and supplies. We, as the House of Cornelius staff, with Joe and Kathy Hart, and a brother named Daniel from Arkansas, did a mini-outreach. But it was during this time when I was ready to give up.

The day before our planned outreach Daniel (who is Puerto Rican and bi-lingual) and I went to the Mexican customs office at the border to secure permission for bringing the goods into Mexico. We did not get permission, but were assured that it was possible if we returned the following morning and spoke to a higher official. From the border we went to meet Andy Wolcott at a wholesale food supplier in El Paso where we loaded two vans with probably 1.5 tons of food to give out the next day. That night we sorted food and clothing and bagged beans into the wee hours.

The following day we loaded four vans full of supplies and I went back to the Mexican customs office with Jose Luis, the head of IFM Mexico. We met with the official for some time. Essentially he explained that everything in the city was fine and that the Mexican government was no longer accepting donations for the flood victims. He even said that there were many displaced in El Paso (which was true) and that we should take our donations there. As a last appeal I explained that God had raised up these things specifically for the people in Juarez and that we needed to find a way to get them into the country. He looked at our appeal letter again and thumbed through our stack of reference letters from orphanages, churches, and other ministries in the city of Juarez and seemed to soften a little. He promised to appeal to his superior and told us to return at 1pm; two hours away. We went to the local Burritos El Padrino (they make a burrito you can't refuse...truly!) and then killed time until the meeting. Meanwhile the four vans were waiting in El Paso at Starbucks and then at Taco Cabana, eating, waiting, and praying.

At one o'clock we met with the official again. He was very polite and amiable, but said that our request had been denied. He said that Mexico may begin "accepting more donations" in October. I smiled and said politely that the food we have would probably spoil by then. He smiled back and shrugged his shoulders. We were denied. I called Joe Hart and with him Jose Luis and I discussed our options. We decided to go to a different bridge where there is a small customs office and see if they would have mercy on us. Meanwhile, Georgia Baca went to the little bridge near the House of Cornelius to talk with the officials there. In both cases, we were told that we had to go over the bridge with the main customs office; which was where we had just spent the morning in disappointment.

I was so tired. I wasn't thinking about the situation at all. I was just thinking about how ready I was to go home and let down. It had been a long year. The outreaches were over, and clearly we weren't going to be let into the country anyway. But the rest of the team was eager, ready, and faithful. Everyone was simply wondering how, not if, we would get these things into Mexico. There was one more bridge we could try and Joe Hart said we should go and rely on God's mercy. Again, I was just ready to go home. It was with some effort that I took the exit off the highway to the bridge instead of just continuing home.

We had four vehicles. The first two got through without a hitch, while the last two, mine being the last, were pulled aside for inspection. We were not trying to hide anything and told the Mexican customs officials what we had and who it was for. They were polite but also said that we needed to go back to the bridge with main customs office. "Okay," I thought, "we've tried it all. Now we'll have to go home."

While I was talking with the official I could see Kathy Hart walking toward us from where the first two vehicles had pulled over to wait. Shortly she arrived and I explained what had happened. She pleaded with the official in simple Spanish, asking for mercy and telling him how much we have been praying. But as she was talking, a second official walked up and began talking in the other ear of the first official. In a moment they turned to Kathy and said we could all go. As we turned to go, the second official gestered upward with his eyes and pointed to the sky!

When we reached the first two vehicles waiting in a nearby parking lot, we all stopped, got on our knees and gave thanks to God. We also, me included, had a keen sense that God was going to use this day mightily for His Kingdom, which warranted extraordinary opposition from the enemy. Although we were going primarily to give out relief supplies, we all prayed for the Gospel to be preached and for the supplies to be used to save souls. I didn't know at the time, but Kathy Hart had been burdened this way since we had left the colonia the previous week. She had been praying since for an opportunity to go back to those same people and share the message of salvation through the cross.

As God has clearly planned it, we got to the colonia in the early evening; close to five o'clock. As soon as we parked and started to make logistical plans, people began to come from all over the neighborhood. Within minutes, a hundred people had gathered; mostly women and children but because of the hour, many more men than usual.

We worked for a short time settings up canopies and unloading the vans. In the meantime close to 200 people had gathered. Then the Harts, Daniel, and Jose Luis went to address the crowd. Joe welcomed them all and then told the story of the day and how God had given us favor after many hours of frustration. (Later we heard some men say, "Do you know why the customs officials would not let you bring these things to us? It is because their bellies are full.") Then, after an inexorable rise of passion, Kathy Hart preached the message of salvation. She is not normally a preacher, but God had clearly answered her prayers and gave her the ability to express the facts of God's mercy in light of our sin with such clarity and force that we all stood back, prayed, and cheered her on in our hearts! What an awesome way to begin our time of handing out food and clothing! I was standing at an edge of the crowd taking pictures and I noticed a woman in tears. The message was hitting home.

For the rest of the evening, until it was almost too dark to see, we handed out fruits, vegetables, beans, rice, soap, toothpaste, diapers, shoes, and clothing. The food was arranged along tables and as the people came by with Wal Mart plastic shopping bags, we put a small quantity of each type. They then picked out toiletries and lined up again to go "shopping" in another tent with the clothes and shoes. It all went extremely well and in order, and we packed up the tents and tables before it was pitch dark and while people were picking over the last few items of clothing. In the end, every scrap of food and clothing was gone.

At the very end, a group of about a dozen women gathered around to talk with Kathy Hart who, with joy and love, explained the Good News of Jesus once again. Afterwards the women, two especially, prayed to receive the gift of salvation.

Nothing of value comes for free. The very full year, the intense weeks of outreach and flood relief, and the two days of failed diplomacy culminated in one of the most precious and glorious evenings I have experienced yet; and we will be able to share Him in Eternity with those ladies as a result.

It was all worth it.

--Thaine