Texas Roots: Birthplace

When people ask me where I am from, I usually just say "America." If they press it, I narrow it down to the Southeast and the Northwest. But if they ask where I was born, I have an answer: Edinburg, Texas. But I can't say that is where I'm from because we moved when I was one and a half, and I don't remember anything about it. Which is why I have always been curious. I've enjoyed imagining what my life would have been like we had stayed a little longer. Maybe I could have been bi-lingual? Maybe I could have learned how to make authentic Mexican food, and not just settle for haystacks or burritoes stuffed with leftovers from my fridge.

After a lifetime of wishing I could see where I was born, I finally decided this was the year, for no particular reason. A few weeks before Thanksgiving, I asked my parents if they would like to make a Christmas trip of it so they could show me around. They agreed. So Christmas day, we met in San Antonio and our adventure began.

My parents have been back a few times since then, and had told me that the hospital I was born in was now a nursing home. In recent weeks, my dad discovered it was converted into a rehab center--not actually a nursing home (which was disappointing, because I had been planning to retire here so I could die where I was born). Anyway, today we thought we would swing by and see it after a delicious authentic Mexican meal.

Unfortunately, I am about nine years too late. The hospital was converted into a rehab center, but the rehab center moved out in 2006 and the old building was torn down. Bummer. Tomorrow I guess we will go take pictures in a field filled with metal scraps and try to capture the historical moment somehow.

As we have been planning this trip, I got to thinking. I wonder if Jesus ever went back and visited His birthplace? I wonder if his mom told him about the stable, and if it was still standing when He went back in His 30s? I don't know, but I think hearing about His birth must have strengthened His faith in His Father and the mission He had been called to.

I don't know how life-transforming it is to see my birthplace, but I think any time we look at our own life stories through eyes of faith, we can see God's fingerprints all over it. He is faithful and His love endures a lot longer than small Mexican border-town hospitals.

Christmas comida

My first Christmas

A warm Christmas night in South Texas