So this morning on my walk with Dad, our conversation drifted to the topic, caves, and he was describing this grotto near where we lived in Mexico in the late 40's, early 50's.
I was not as appreciative of the beauty of the
country which we lived in until now.
We lived in the shadow of that catholic church you see in the video and the antique bridge which still look the same as it did when we lived there. I am sure that Dad has many other stories of those years, in this village.
Of course when we lived there, this village was very remote, with no roads for vehicles. We traveled by foot, horse, or mule, or on someones back like I did when I was small. The people, here, were resistant to the gospel and on occasion our lives were threatened. Dad was advised to leave for a period of time but left my mother, me, and my brother in the village for about a month until things cooled down.
He was assured that his family would not be harmed and God protected us during this time.
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