Norris Family News

What I Learned On The Border

After 3 outreach seasons (2 years and a pinch) the Norris family is taking steps to return to Colorado as our home base. When we moved down, we figured it was for a few years, and it seems that those years are completed. I think Thaine and I would be happy to stay here at the HOC for the rest of our lives, but we have had difficulty working out some details as a family which causes the time to draw to a close. We are very (very) impressed with how much time the raising and training of children takes, and find that we are unable to delve into the various wonderful opportunities to help and serve without jeopardizing our obligations to them. Also, it has been  difficult to maintain a rich learning experience when we adults are so few and stretched, our kids are so varied in ages and interests, and most resources are an hour away in El Paso. We are convinced that for all families, the first mission is the raising and training of children, and we have desired certain opportunities for our kids which are not practically accessible here. We go with the utmost respect, love and concern for the hard working staff of IFM/HOC. Altho’ it’s important not to make promises and not keep them, we certainly intend to stay involved over time and return regularly.

Whenever someone leaves a missions-related situation, it raises questions of "What happened? Are you done being a missionary?" As above, there are completely non-IFM/House of Cornelius  reasons for the move. However, it is a great opportunity to reflect on what a missionary is, anyway.  There are some unique opportunities here on the border to reach out, help, and minister in every respect to the needy or to people who might be interested in hearing from someone from another culture. However, life is largely life, sometimes larger than life. When it came right down to it, our opportunities to be missionaries were to friends and neighbors and in our own home, just as it would be anywhere. We encourage all reading to review from our experiences that "you'll never be a better missionary than you've been at home!" Maybe that has a scolding sound to it, but I think it's great encouragement. We should all live life like it counts, because it does!

When we first moved down to the HOC, with my head in the clouds, I rewrote a favorite bit of prose from Thoreau to fit my hopes.

I went to the border because I wished to live purposefully, to front only the essential facts of faith, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Christ-like as to put to rout all that was not true, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its truest terms, and if it proved to be  hard, why then to get the whole and genuine difficulty of it, or if it were beautiful, to know it by experience, and able to give an account of the hope that is within me.  (The original is to be found in On Walden Pond “I went to the woods…” –Thoreau)

As we prepare to move back to Colorado at the end of August, it is tempting to be very reflective and sentimental. I think the rereading of this prose fits my mood well. I’m thankful to the Lord that the time here has been just that…a great time to dig into the Faith, definitely a time to see the extreme difficulties of life and its beauty too. Sometimes my memories of the HOC itself are crowded with images of myself either pregnant or attached to one or another dear barnacle hindering my efforts to do laundry or inventory a few ministry or housekeeping items. Or, I see myself cynically weathering one more noisy meal in Muzzy, trying to make sure my people under the age of 8 eat enough dinner  and get to bed somewhat on time in the midst of the excitement, hoping to avoid midnight starvation and next-day-irritability. However, the co-workers are so wonderful and full of variety, and we met so many inspiring people on various teams, and heard so many wonderful testimonies. My year at the little clinic in San Elizario was quite literally a chunk of heaven smacked down in the middle of my life, from which I hope to never quite recover.  We’ve learned so much as a family, and I personally am so thankful for all of it.

Having said all that reflective stuff, I wish to add that poverty stinks. I confess to being subject to romantic thinking. I looked forward to roughing it even when our finances were unstable when we first moved down. I’ve always liked trying to make a meal with whatever was available, etc. etc. However, having tasted just a little of being poor, mostly through the experiences of others we’ve known, I wish to clarify that poverty is a yawning depressing chasm not to be taken lightly.  It is not an excuse for sin, but I think our selfish flesh thrives in the gnawing absence of stability and basic needs. People do even more awful, crazy things egged on by the searing knowledge that they lack so much, and have no other source of “happiness.” God has better solutions, but without that hope and strength from Him, people succumb to awful lives sometimes. So why does Jesus say, “Blessed are the poor”? Because they have the opportunity to be nose to nose with who they really are. Most of us have the privilege, or trap, of plastering over who we really are underneath with comforts, leisure time, and distractions. But if you are poor you don’t have that façade, and you know you’re just a sinner that needs to be saved by grace. We’ve seen awesome examples of people who still don’t know where their next meal is coming from but they are hopeful, living by God’s principles, wise, kind, and reaching out to those around them. Those people are blessed, and often understand a whole lot more of life than we who have been comfortable most all the time. Blessed are the poor…who seek Him.

-- Erika