Born at Home—Away from Home
What a miracle we have to celebrate this week. A tiny, enormous one. And part of the sweetness of it comes from a tough choice we made a couple months back.
You’ve heard me talk about my friend Benny - host, chef, gardener, tour guide, and one of the kindest, most lovable humans you’ve ever met. **He makes everyone feel like you’re his best friend. I met him eleven trips to Mexico ago, in April 2024, on a weekend missions trip I almost didn’t go on.
Helen and I instantly fell in love with the people here, including Benny.
But after a few of these 13-hour drives across the border into the desert with two little restless toddlers strapped into their car seats, I must confess that I began to harbor a bit of reluctance. No one ever forced us to go - we always volunteered because we felt attached to these dear people. But I was battling my own selfishness. I’m just being honest.
Then something shifted in me after our trip here in January, the longest one yet.
My in-laws, who help pastor our church and have led this work in Mexico, felt called to move here to Chihuahua for the summer. When I heard it, I knew we had to go with them. Not because they asked, but because I knew we were needed. I realized how small my sacrifice had actually been - a tiny fraction of what our parents and grandparents gave up when they left comfortable lives to build the place where we were raised. Everything changed after that. I got excited about Mexico.
Then came the bigger decision: where to have the baby.
Helen was due July 10th, right in the middle of the trip. I wanted her to feel completely comfortable, and was ready to bring her back to Texas for a month if that’s what she needed.
Some friends of ours from Texas had a baby here in January. They ran into a bureaucratic nightmare getting the passport sorted, but after multiple attempts they got through it, so we knew it could be done. Our midwife wasn’t an obstacle - Helen’s mom, who delivered both our other boys, told us she’d happily deliver it in Texas or in Mexico, where she’d already be for the summer.
So the decision was ours.
A few days later, Helen came to me with her mind made up. God had given her these verses which settled it deep in her soul:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you… When you pass through the waters, I will be with you... Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it? I will make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” (Isaiah 43)
She radiated with confident faith that God had spoken a promise over this birth in Mexico, and we could trust Him. I was already fully on board. It felt like a privilege, not an encumbrance - a step of faith in solidarity with a group of believers rising up like a road in the wilderness, a river in the desert, serving those who so desperately need it.
So this past Saturday - six days before her due date, after spending the night in Benny’s beautifully restored home - Helen began having contractions. She thought they might pass, but just after we climbed into bed to sleep, they kicked into high gear.
When the clock struck 10:48 pm, July 4th, our baby boy was born. He cried immediately - the sweetest sound a parent can hear at birth. Fireworks exploded in the skies of our home country, celebrating her 250th birthday hundreds of miles north, while we celebrated our third son’s first breaths. A wave of gratitude and awe washed over me in that little bedroom in the desert of Mexico.
He was born at home - away from home.
Lucas and Ezra are already deeply in love with their little brother, though Ezra especially has to be restrained for fear that his affection becomes dangerous. I can’t wait to see all three of them one day soon, dressed in matching overalls and boots, just like my older brothers and I were as kids.
We named him Benjamin Wesley.
Wesley, in honor of my Uncle Wes - and the Wesley brothers, whose lives and message helped change the course of Europe and the rest of the world forever.
Benjamin, in honor of my brother Ben - and my dear friend Benny.