God can be found in the most unexpected places

It's called the Dump Ministry, and it is literally that. A group of volunteers make food for the dozens of Mexicans who spend their days scrounging through the Mazatlan dump for recyclable materials. On Christmas Eve, Dave, our son-in-law Randy, and I joined 40 others for the Vineyards Church mission trip there. We met in the morning to prepare sandwiches and fill plastic water bottles before we boarded the bus for the hour-long trip.

Winding, jolting, dirt road craters, rivaled only by the Boomerang at World of Fun, made me glad I hadn't eaten breakfast. Except for an occasional halt for donkeys or cows to pass, our driver seemed to have an aversion to the brake.

The homes in that particular colonia, all made from dump castoffs, were much more primitive than the ones we saw on Christmas Eve. Discarded box springs had become exterior walls, and cardboard boxes served as roofs and chicken coops. Turkeys and stray dogs were frequent guests, roaming in and out of "living rooms," while most of the serious cooking was done in barrels in the back yard.

We were told that hospitals in Mazatlan change diapers on a regular schedule as opposed to when there is a need. "Slightly used" ones were a hot commodity at the dump, as were all articles of clothing, tin cans, and plastic. Men and women alike were there, scavenging, eagerly waiting for the next trash truck to arrive so they could grab items before they ever touched the ground.

My job was to hand out lotion samples to the women. Sun-parched senoras smiled and said "Gracias," and every worker there seemed genuinely thrilled to be handed the sandwiches and drinks the other volunteers provided.

There were two other stops to be made, and both were to serve the children. There they lined up in single file, the shortest to the tallest. They waited patiently for their food. Very few attend school, as uniforms are required and the $132 annual fee is far more than the parents can afford. The Vineyard Church has a scholarship program for some, but most of the parents see little need; their children will simply follow in their footsteps and work in the dump, too. Kind of reminds me of generational welfare that the United States supports ... except these Mexicans actually work for a living.

What I couldn't help notice was how happy the kids were. They smiled, laughed, and played with one another. One lucky little guy had a skateboard which he managed to ride on the rocky, pot-filled road. Some had found an old football and were playing catch in a deserted field. Patty-cake and ring-around-the-rosy made the young ones laugh, and somehow even playing tic-tac-toe in the dirt can be fun if you have no other choice.

There are places we expect to meet Jesus -- in our quiet time, in Bible study groups, hopefully even in church -- but on New Years Eve day, I met Him at the dump. Many other volunteers would say the same. And I can't wait to meet Him there again.