Update on the Flooding in Huacarpay

Thank you all for your prayers for the Huacarpay and Lucre flood situation. I will say that I am more informed of the situation in Huacarpay than in Lucre, so most of this update will be about Huacarpay. However, Lucre, a neighboring community, where we also have a church, was also affected. The river running through Lucre flooded. Some houses collapsed and at least some of the people from the church were affected. However, it was mostly the houses that were along the river. The pastor has a fish farm restaurant, which provides their income. All the fish escaped and several of the pools where they were being raised have been washed away by the river. However, two pools have remained intact and it looks like they will probably be able to rebuild. The church there was not flooded, however, there is a playground in the church’s yard that was flooded. I am not aware at this point of exactly how many families from that church have been affected, but do know that people from the church have been affected. It has been a difficult week for many people, but we have seen God’s grace at work as well. My church is in Huacarpay, so I am out there practically every weekend. I almost always stay overnight with either the pastor’s family or my friend Juana’s family on Saturday nights as well. These two families and several others as well have become like my own family over the past 2 years that I have been here. Sunday 1/24, I was in Huacarpay for the service and spent the afternoon with Juana and her family, leaving early evening. Never did I suspect that less than 12 hours later, at 3 AM, I would receive a phone call from my pastor’s daughter and good friend Lisi telling me that their house was flooding and to please pray and tell others to pray as well. When I called her later in the morning, she said, “Betania, all of Huacarpay is flooded. I don’t know if we will be able to live there again.” Their family escaped in their pajamas, pulled out of their house by ropes, and was staying in a big truck with several other families from the church farther up on the mountain. She was not kidding. All of Huacarpay was flooded, except for the church sanctuary and Miguel and Maria’s house, leaders in the church. A week later, half of Huacarpay is still under standing water and cracked and crumbled houses can be seen all up and down the street. Many of the houses are made of adobe mud bricks, which absorb water and disintegrate rather quickly. Plastering the walls helps, but even that is no guarantee against a raging river. Not all the families in the church were affected, because not all of them live in Huacarpay. However, as far as I know, at least 6 families in or closely connected to the church lost their homes. And no one is unaffected. Those who have not lost their own homes have family members and friends who have. Not only homes and possessions, however, were lost. Animals and fields, which provide a good amount of economic support for their owners, were also lost. Corn and potatoes were in the midst of their growing season and have now been ruined by their extended soak in muddy water. Currently, most of the residents of Huacarpay are living on the hill overlooking their drowned homes, in and around the elementary school building sitting on the hill. The government has provided some tents, though not enough for everyone. Those with no tents have patched together shelters from whatever materials they could find. Walking in to the school area, it feels like a refugee camp. Children play on the school’s playground. Older people do work or sit around talking. Youth and adults do whatever needs done. Every little while someone will yell that something is being distributed and everyone runs to get in line. Dogs and chickens roam around freely. Women handwash muddy clothes and cook. Men move around furniture. People visit each other’s tents. Cars drive around. It’s a relaxed busy atmosphere. Active, but not in a frenetic way.
There are many needs right now. Thankfully, there is plenty of support coming in from various places. However, everyone realizes that it is also a matter of time until the flooding ceases to be on the forefront of everyone’s minds and the support gradually recedes like the chocolate floodwaters. People wonder what will happen several months down the road. It could conceivably be 6 months or so until people are resettled and able to move into new homes, which the government has promised to provide resources for. Right now, people are in need of physical support in many random forms – fly strips, hygiene and health items, plastic tarps, blankets, laundry soap, clothing, food, water, etc. I’m sure they’re also in need of psychological support, but that one is pretty much beyond me. They are in need of financial support. People are also in need of emotional support. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve given someone a hug this past week only to have them burst into tears. They are exhausted, overwhelmed and taking one day at a time. Just to know that people are praying and are standing with them is a blessing. They are in need of strength and wisdom to know how to make decisions. And the needs change every day, and from family to family, so I’m never sure what I will be doing from one day to the next. One day I might be helping someone do laundry before their clothes rot. The next, I might be helping to get a mountain of dirty dishes under control or organize a Sunday school classroom so 6 people can live and sleep in there comfortably and not go crazy because all their stuff is sitting in bags and bundles all around the room and they have no space. Another day I might be babysitting so a mother can have time to do her baby’s laundry. I’ve found that ministry has many more faces than I ever realized and that many unlikely things can fall into that category.
I’ve had many feelings this week, personally. It has been very hard to see those I love, those with whom I have spent a lot of time, those who have given to me of themselves, now devastated and homeless. I have struggled with guilt, with feelings of “why my family and not me?” I have come to the conclusion, on that issue, that if God has provided me with a house safe from flooding, it is so that I might be a blessing to others. Huacarpay is without water right now and so a hot shower, a warm bed and breakfast is a ministry in and of itself. Even just the chance to watch a movie and get away from reality for a bit is refreshing, since the reality tends to be all-consuming. It’s the topic of conversation. It’s on the news. It’s right before their eyes. It consumes all their time. It’s inescapable. I have also struggled with feelings of not belonging, of not doing any good. However, God is showing me that I am right where He wants me to be and doing just what He wants me to be doing and I belong because I am with my family. One of my big struggles is learning to accept hospitality from homeless people. In this culture, if you reject food it is a big offense. And if someone is helping you all morning, then it is just natural that you would feed them. However, when you know you have food in your house and someone with no house and living on the donations of others is offering you food, it is humbling to receive it. I am learning to accept hospitality and food without feeling guilty and trying to never go to Huacarpay with empty hands. I have been encouraged by the story of Elijah and the widow. When the widow was willing to make bread for Elijah first, before herself and her son, then God blessed her faith and promised that she would never be without provision. I pray that He would do the same for my family in Huacarpay. I don’t want to come across in a way that makes a superior/inferior divide or offends anyone, yet I do want to be sensitive to the needs of my family.
I have seen and heard many encouraging things this week. Juana told me that her family has renewed desire to be in church and is feeling a stronger bond of unity between themselves and other members of the church. People from the other Mennonite churches have also been coming to help and have been an encouragement to the brothers and sisters of Huacarpay. Those from the church continue to have faith. Just this afternoon I heard someone quote the pastor’s wife as saying, “If this happened, I know that it is because God will bless us so much more in the years to come.” Yes, they are wondering why, but they also know that God has a purpose in all this. I am praying that He would be glorified. It is beautiful to see the people hanging on to God for dear life and not letting go in the face of tragedy, to hear them singing “I Surrender All”, to know that they are reading their Bibles and there finding encouragement. Let it continue! Also, praise God that the rains are holding off for now!
Some specific prayer requests would be:
· Health and safety for all those living and/or working in Huacarpay and Lucre. Water-borne diseases could easily become a problem. Muscle injuries and general bumps and bruises are the main complaints. Colds from extended exposure to the elements and to cold water are also a good possibility. Also protection for people who are going in to crumbling houses trying to locate possessions.
· Provision for the needs of the communities, both in short-term and long-term focuses.
· Emotional, physical and psychological strength for those who are trying to rebuild their lives and be strong for each other. Good sleep and good dreams as well.
· Wisdom to make decisions about where to rebuild and how, etc.
· Increased unity in the church, both now and in the future. That this would not just be something that would bring the church in Huacarpay and the Mennonite churches in general together for a season, but that it would be a catalyst for church unity for years to come.
· That the church would have and take opportunities to be a witness to those around them, that their reputations would be above reproach and that people would truly see a difference in them.
· Wisdom for me personally to know how to be a blessing to all those affected and also how to manage my time. I am teaching English summer school (we began the morning that the flood had happened) in the mornings and going to Huacarpay in the afternoons as much as I possibly can. That God would use me to show His love to my family and to bless them in whatever way I can.
Thank you all so much for your prayers. It is a blessing and a strength for me to know that you are praying and to be able to take that news out to my brothers and sisters in Huacarpay. They are encouraged to know that others from around the world are praying for them, even those who don’t know them. Please continue to pray with us here. I will keep you updated as well as I can, in between teaching and running out to Huacarpay. Blessings to all of you.
Love,
Bethany

Celebrating Christmas in Peru

Christmas in Cusco is being ever more commercialized and influenced by Hollywood and the prominence of tourism. You can now find Christmas lights, decorations, artificial trees, etc with ease. Santa Claus is well-known and decorations even sometimes include snow, despite the fact that it does not snow here in Cusco on Christmas...or any other time of the year, for that matter. Fortunately, however, the customs of Cusco still remain, despite the changing times. One custom that goes on throughout the entire month of December is the giving, receiving and consumption of fruitcake, called panetón. Panetón becomes its own food group during the month of December. The sweet bread with the little red and green candied dried fruit bits and raisins can be found everywhere. It is commonly given by employers to their employees to say thank you for your work during the year. It is also commonly given to friends to say Merry Christmas. Go to a church meeting or service over Christmas time and you'll more than likely come away eating panetón with its customary hot chocolate (I have had this experience at least 3 times in the past month, in addition to having 2 panetones in my house). It also makes a great breakfast or snack. Christmas in Cusco just isn't quite the same without panetón. So now your house is decorated and you've been enjoying your panetón and hot chocolate. What's next? Glad you asked.
If you live in my house, the next thing is celebrating Advent. All throughout the month of December, my roommate and I celebrate Advent with our dear friend Marga, who helps us in our house, and anyone else who happens to be at our house on any given day. The lighting of the Advent candles give us a good way to remind us of the blessings that God has given us in the sending of His Son for us. Also, during this time, we hang our stockings and begin filling them with little gifts for each other. On December 23, the last day that Marga is with us before Christmas, we exchange the gifts in our stockings and finish the last day of Advent. It is a special time for all of us to be together and celebrate Jesus' birth and our friendship. This year, Carrie managed to find a place that sold cappuccinos to go (that is extremely rare in Cusco). Since we all love cappuccino, she brought some home as a special Christmas treat.
Christmas Eve morning dawns cool and cloudy, or rainy, possibly sunny if you're lucky. Despite the fact that we are technically in summer over this time, it's not hot. It's actually usually only in the 50s or 60s and generally cloudy or rainy. This, however, refuses to daunt the citizens of Cusco. Christmas Eve morning means the annual Santurantikuy (Quechua for "buy yourself a saint") market in the main plaza of the city. Here you can buy manger scenes, stables, plants to decorate your manger scene, baby Jesuses, handcrafts, little good luck charms for the new year, etc. This year I spent the morning at Santurantikuy with my good friend Lisi. We had a lot of fun looking at the jewelry, finding a fun chullo for my roommate, deciding that we could make some notebooks like ones we saw for less than what they were selling for and have a lot more fun doing it, speaking Quechua to the vendors (that was me), and just seeing what there was to see. I saw a sign there that was both funny and sad. It said "We restore babies and saints". It sounds funny, but at the same time, it's sad. It represents the idolatry that is here in Cusco, of worshipping the Baby Jesus and the saints. It was a sad reminder that not all is as God would want it to be. Another interesting aspect of the Santurantikuy market is the good luck charms for the new year. You hope to buy a house next year? You can buy a little model of a house that's supposed to bring you good luck so you can buy a house. You want lots of money? Buy a packet of play money - soles, dollars or euros. You want to graduate from the university? You can even get a tiny little replica of a diploma to bring you good luck. You want work? You can buy a little replica of a hand holding a frog. (I have no idea why a frog. That's just the way it is). That will give you good luck so you can get a job. It's sad to see how people are so deceived into thinking that a little packet of play money or a model of a house can bring them good luck and provide what they want. I'd rather trust in the one who created the entire world and all that is within it, the one they call Jehovah Jireh. Nevertheless, Santurantikuy is an interesting experience.
Christmas Eve is when things really get interesting. In the evangelical church, churches often have Christmas Eve services, which include special numbers, food, fellowship and remembering the birth of Jesus. This year, after the church service, I went to be with my friend Mari, her brother Alfredo and her parents Roberto and Valeria. Christmas Eve is a traditionally family affair and I was blessed to be a part of their family that night. The Peruvian tradition is that everyone stays up till midnight (or later) on Christmas Eve. During the course of the evening sometime there is food (we had chicken, pork and potatoes) and people often play games, talk, watch movies, etc with their families. Around about 11:30 PM, you start to hear fireworks going off in the streets. At midnight, everyone goes out to the streets and the fireworks REALLY start to go off. All over the place, you can see little flashes of light sparkling in the night sky. In the midst of all this, everyone in your family gives each other a hug and wishes each other Feliz Navidad. Then you go back inside, exchange gifts and maybe play some more games and then go to bed.
Christmas day is actually kind of anticlimactic, as much of the celebration happens on Christmas Eve. Usually, it's spent with family eating and enjoying being together. Our EMM missionary team spent the day together eating, exchanging gifts and playing games (we have this thing for games on our team...strategy games, Dutch Blitz and Rook are some of our favorites). Then we all dispersed to go to our respective houses and call our respective families on skype to wish them a merry Christmas too.
Christmas in another country is always different. There's no "I'll be home for Christmas", no "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas". But God provides other blessings to make up for that. Being here in Cusco, away from my biological family, I've developed a deeper appreciation for the body of Christ. I may not have my parents, brothers, uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents with me here, but God has given me family and made me a part of something larger than myself. So Feliz Navidad from me to you and may God bless you all in this new year, just as He continues to bless "all the dear children in [His] tender care".

Demons Dancing in the Streets

The last week in September marked the annual festival of San Jeronimo. San Jeronimo is the local patron saint of the area of Cusco where I live (also called, amazingly enough, San Jeronimo). In English, you may know him as Saint Jerome, who translated the Latin version of the Bible known as the Vulgate. San Jeronimo here is a large statue that dwells inside the church, comes out over Holy Week in March or April, returns a week later (accompanied by much dancing, food, and drinking), and is taken out of the church and paraded around again during the last week in September. Most schools in San Jeronimo have holidays over this time. Since PROMESA is not exactly into saint worship, we don't. But as we are in classes, we are hear strains of horn and drum music (typical fare for a saintly procession) floating across the air. For months before the actual event, leaving from the school in the afternoon, we see people practicing typical dances in the roofed concrete sport court close to the school. These people have to sign themselves up for these dances and pay for the teacher to come teach them. There is one family in charge of each dance. Someone estimated that these families probably spend 3000-4000 soles each on this event. This is equal to roughly $1000-$1300 American money, which is quite a considerably larger percentage of one's resources here than in the States. Unfortunately, the use of this money on the festival of San Jeronimo usually means that the money is not used on things that it really should be, things such as improving one's house or taking care of one's children. The actual festival seems to be mostly an excuse for a lot of drunkenness. Alcoholism is a real stronghold here. The picture of the horn player with the beer bottle in his hand shows this well. Our friend Marga's husband Cesar has a barber shop right along the main street in San Jeronimo. During the week of celebration, one afternoon contains a parade which passes right by the front door of the barber shop. Marga invited my roommate Carrie and I to go with her and her family to watch the parades in front of the barber shop. For me, it was a very interesting afternoon full of questions and thoughts. I was surprised by the number of dances that involved demons (hence the title of this blog post). My thought was "If San Jeronimo is a saint (to the Catholics here) and people worship him as such, then why in the world would there be so many demon dances during a festival to honor him? What fellowship does light have with darkness?" In my way of thinking, it didn't make sense. I think it really hit me when the parade got stopped a little ways down from us. Two girls ran down the middle of the street to look at it. They came back yelling "Saqra! (Devil in Quechua)" with the chill of thrilling terror that ghost stories around a camp fire often give children. Even some of the dances contained "Saqra" in the name. My friend Lisi gave me an explanation for this phenomenon that I really liked and which really made sense to me. She said, "If San Jeronimo is a demon (from an evangelical point of view, since he is worshipped as an idol), then it makes sense that other demons would be around him and be a part of the celebration." Simple. True. Another interesting fact that Marga shared with us later, while reflecting on the dances, is that they are changing as the world changes. Skirt hems move from knees to thighs to upper thighs. More dances involve demons and ugly masks. Fewer are innocent and beautiful. There are more dances. It was interesting to note this bit of information. All in all, it was an interesting, afternoon of dances, music, food and lots of color. It made me realize again just how lost those of the world are, those who carry around their unmoving gods on their shoulders, dancing as demons for demons.

Unsung Heroes

There are many unsung heroes here in Cusco, people who often work unrecognized or under-appreciated. Yet, without them, our lives would be much different and much more unpleasant. Today, though they'll never read this, I'm sure, I'd like to dedicate this post to some of them:
To the bus, combi and taxi drivers - If you've never been here, Cusco driving is....well, let's say different....than United States driving. (If you don't believe me, ask my parents). Drivers here have to be a lot more alert and agressive. Horns are just as necessary (if not more so) than brakes. Swerving in and out of traffic is so normal that I don't even think about it. My parents were on the edge of their seats many times during their times here, while I am so used to this driving style that I read books through it while going to town (and love doing so). Not having my own car, I rely almost exclusively on public transportation. Though car accidents are not unknown, I have been safe throughout the year and 9 months I've been here. I realized the other week that I owe my road safety up to this point to God and to the good driving of all the many bus, combi and taxi drivers in whose cars I have ridden. Thank you!
Public sanitation department - Litter. It's a big problem here. Big. There is litter on the streets all the time. The custom here is eat it and toss it, no matter where you are. Though people are becoming more aware of litter and lack thereof, it's going to be a LOOONG process to change a society's ways. But in the midst of the litter problem, there is the public sanitation department. These courageous men and women walk the streets with their face masks, brooms and trash bags, cleaning up after the rest of society. Or they ride on the back of the trash truck, listening the warbling music flowing from the speakers mounted on top, grabbing people's trash bags. Or they ring a triangle in front of the trash truck so that people will remember it's time to put out their trash (it really is a nice reminder). The other week was the parade for the local saint, San Jeronimo. The main street of San Jeronimo was, well, to put it nicely, not the cleanest afterwards. The next morning I observed on the way to school that the remnants of the parade had all been swept away and the street looked presentable again. Another morning I was walking to school from the bus stop and saw piles of trash in the middle of the street. Walking further, I saw someone sweeping them up. Of course, with four schools on our one street, it didn't last long, but it looked nice while it did last.
Maids - They are generally looked down upon and not respected (I'm trying to change that, at least in our case). They go to someone else's house, cook and clean for them , run errands and generally do whatever else that person doesn't have time to do. (Some very important things are only open while we are at school....like customs at the post office and the telephone company). Then they go back to their own homes and do the same thing. Usually, they work for peanuts, even by Peruvian standards. But their work is such a blessing. In our case, since we don't have a mom or a husband to cook for us, don't eat lunch at school and Crock-Pots are an unknown invention here, having someone to cook lunch, the main meal of the day, is a necessity and a blessing. And spending a great deal of time working on school stuff in the afternoons and evenings makes not having to clean a blessing. Marga, our maid, is one of my best friends here and a true sister in Christ. I saw a sign on vacation in Arequipa that summed it up perfectly: Not even the king would eat if the worker did not work".
There are many more, but these are the ones that stuck out to me while thinking about it lately. So here's to the unsung heroes in our lives and thank you for all you do!

What Would Jesus Do....one step further

The other week I was disturbed out of my devotional time at 7:15 on a Saturday morning by the doorbell being rung insistently. Till it w as all said and done, the man next door is working on his house and was convinced that a small room beside our front door, not connected directly to the house, was going to fall down should he begin digging around its foundations. We later learned he may have had a point, but the insistency with which he was saying that the room should come down and the urgency of it happening in order for their apartment building to be raised next door did not sit well with me at that point. I must confess that I did not exactly treat them like Jesus probably would have. It made me think, though. I began to wonder what it would be like to know exactly what Jesus would have done in every situation. I began to think how nice it would have been if the Bible contained the complete record of everything Jesus said and did in every situation.
And then I began to think of the ramifications that would bring. And God began to speak to my heart of the ramifications that it would bring. Imagine with me, if you will, that the entire life of Jesus was chronicled in the Bible....everything He said and did, every situation in which He found Himself. Imagine yourself as a God follower in this situation. You have your Bible. And then you have a massive book that chronicles where to find any incident in Jesus' life. Someone stole your wallet while walking downtown? Look up stolen belongings in your reference book. Gospel of Peter 4:17. You flip open to the Gospel of Peter and look up what Jesus did in that situation. And then you "go ye and do ye likewise". It would make "What Would Jesus Do?" a whole lot simpler, wouldn't it?
And then God showed me the horrid reality that that would really bring. If all I had to do was know where to look in the Bible and then follow what it said in that passage, that cuts off relationship right there! Why do I need to know God's heart and search to know Him more, if all I have to do is know where to find the correct answers about Him? Knowing where to find answers of how to live correctly in any situation in the Bible means God becomes a formula. If A, then B. If B, then C. And then who would really care about God as God anymore? Christianity would become just another religion, people trying to get to heaven by doing everything right.
And then God showed me something freeing and beautiful. He cares so much more about having a relationship with us than about us getting everything right. He created us with free will so that we can choose what we're going to do, whether it's what is right or what is not right. Yeah, we're going to make some wrong choices, but the relationship is still there. And then He provided us grace so that when we do choose what is not right, we can still have that relationship with Him. It's so simple, so complex, and so beautiful.
So I can ask myself "What would Jesus do?", but the answer might not be found in red ink in my Bible. The answer just might be found in seeking His heart and in wanting to know Him better. The answer just might be found in being in relation with Him. And I think that's a pretty good place for it to be hiding.

People of faith: Rene

Sometimes it's a rare opportunity to meet brothers and sisters from around the world. As I've been here in Peru, I feel privileged to have met many new family members who have encouraged me and become a precious and important part of my life. I wanted to share some of their stories with you, to give you the privilege of "meeting" them too. This, I'm hoping, can become a series of blog posts over the next few weeks or months.
The woman with me in this picture is Rene. She has become a dear friend over the months that I've been here. Rene is in her early forties and is a single mom to Nando, who just turned 14 in June. Rene is on the worship team with me at my church in Huacarpay. Our friendship really started to grow last year when I joined the worship team. I was told that practice started on Saturday evening at 6. Thinking like an American, I arrived around 6, to find the church locked and no one there. So I decided to go down the street a little way to Rene's house, since I knew where it was and it was close. This ended up becoming a normal routine, one that has been a blessing to me (and she says it is for her too). Rene lives in one large room, which she has divided into three with curtains. The front room is a hair salon/tailor shop/small clothing and accessory store, which provides her with income. The other two rooms are a bedroom and a dining room. Her kitchen is semi-outside in a patio with corrugated tin acting as a roof. Yet, despite humble circumstances, Rene has a heart bigger than many people I know. Whether it's bread and tea or leftovers from lunch, or even lemonade, she always gives me something to eat. Even more importantly, she has shared with me her friendship and love. We have become part of each other's support system and family. Since Rene became a Christian, her family has been very distant and has not wanted to hear what she has wanted to share with them. She told me one time that she feels more close to the people from the church than to her own family. I also look forward to the times I get to spend with her every week. We have a relationship of mutual trust and sharing from the heart.
One day recently, when I was in Huacarpay, Rene shared with me that her aunt, who owns the house where she is living, asked her to move out by the end of September. Her aunt apparently wants to do some renovations or something. So Rene's looking for a place to live. She can live in one of the rooms of the church, but she has no place there to put her shop. She also bought a small lot in a neighboring town, but has no money thus far to start building a house. She is hoping that one of the men in the church who have a truck can help her get some rocks to start the foundations. She says sometimes she feels alone. I keep reminding her that she is not. And in so doing, I am reminding myself of this truth as well. We are a part of the body of Christ, which means that we are never alone.
Her faith in the midst of everything is beautiful. Last week when I went out to Huacarpay, there was no light at her house, for some reason only known to the electric company. Silhouetted in the light of a candle, as we cooked together on her small stove, she shared with me what God had spoken to her as she read the story of one of the kings in the Bible. An enemy king was attacking Israel. The enemy king had said that the Israelites shoudldn't trust God, that no one could deliver them from his hand, not even God. But the Israelite king decided to trust God anyway, since he knew that God's power was greater. And God ended up killing the enemies of Israel without the Israelites even having to do a thing. Rene shared the story with me and spoke of her faith that God will do the same for her, that He will deliver her and help her. It is beautiful to see how God has taken Rene from someone who used to worship the local saints and journey annually to Ccoyllorrity to worship the god-image there, to someone who now worships the God who lives in her heart, the God who has never abandoned her, the God who always provides. She has become a precious sister to me and I'm thankful for the opportunity of having her in my family and in my heart.

Starfish and footwashing

Being a teacher, there are some days when I just get plain down frustrated. My kids aren't cooperating or things aren't turning out the way I was hoping or I feel like I'm not doing a very good job. Any number of things can cause this frustration. This morning was one of those mornings. My parents are here visiting and yesterday was a rather difficult day in all my classes, which they, unfortunately, got to see. I was sharing my frustrations with them this morning. I realized the need to let those frustrations go before I needlessly took them out on my kids. So the combi on the way to school turned into my prayer closet as I asked God to minister to me and "wash my feet" this morning. I got to school and as I was there, I began to feel better, though I was still not where I wanted to be. And then it happened. God reached down and washed my feet. We were in chapel and between doing motions for the songs and throwing out things that my kids had in their mouths, I was standing in the back behind my kids. Johana motioned with her hand for me to come over. She pulled something out of her backpack and handed it to me. Turning it over, I saw a starfish pin that said "I make a difference" and a card with a story on it. I knew the story, so I explained it to her, since it was in English. The story goes something like this, "There once was a young man who was walking down a beach. He came across a man throwing starfish from the sand back into the water to save their lives. There were hundreds of the creatures strewn across the beach. The young man asked the older man, 'Why are you doing this? Don't you know there are hundreds and you can't possibly save them all? Why bother?' The old man picked up another starfish and threw it back into the ocean. Turning to the young man he said, 'It made a difference for that one'." After I explained it to her, she indicated that it was for me. In that moment, I knew it was God speaking through her. I have no idea where she would have gotten such a thing or why she gave it to me. It was completely out of the blue, but it was unmistakably God at work in my life this morning. The pin stayed on my jacket all day and now got transferred to my backpack. It's a reminder for me of the love and grace of God and His ministry to me, no matter how or when or where or through who.

June in Cusco - Corpus Cristi and Inti Raymi

June in Cusco is quite the month. Seems like just as one celebration ends, another begins. I wanted to share with you a bit of the culture of Peru and what June looks like here. The month begins with the celebration of Corpus Cristi around the 10th. Corpus is supposedly a celebration of the body of Christ. Supposedly, because it really has nothing to do with the body of Christ. It is a Catholic adaptation of an ancient Incan Native American tradition in which the mummies of former Incas (rulers) were paraded around the plaza of the city to celebrate and honor them. When the Spanish came and conquered and wanted to convert the Incas to Catholicism (mostly by force), they decided to replace the mummies with saints and parade the saints around. (I've even heard that in some cases they put the mummies inside the saint statues in some way in order to heighten the acceptance of Catholicism). The tradition has persisted for the last roughly 500 years in that manner. Various churches around Cusco have their own resident saints. The part of Cusco where I live is called San Jeronimo. Surprisingly enough, the patron saint of this part of town is San Jeronimo! Since I'm not in the Catholic church, I don't know exactly how all this works, but this is what I understand. Every year, people who worship these saints are chosen or asked to be in charge of making clothes for the saints or carrying them into Cusco. It's a great honor. But it also comes with its downside. Many times people spend excessive amounts of money to fulfill their responsibility to the saint, so much so that their families suffer. I was talking to my friend Rene the other week. She gave me some interesting insight into this tradition. She told me she used to carry a saint before she became a Christian. She said she really believed the saint was God. I asked her if she ever wondered why, if this was the case, there were so many different saints. She said she'd asked and was told that they are all different expressions of God (or something like that). Coming from my Christian worldview of growing up hearing "Don't worship idols", I still have a ways to go to understand all this. Anyway, all the 15 saints receive richly ornamented, expensive, lavish new clothes and are carried into Cusco on litters from their various churches of residence. They meet in the plaza and form a parade around the perimeter. One by one, they are carried into the cathedral where they supposedly have some sort of party for a week. The entering of the cathedral is solemn. Each of the saints is preceeded by a band consisting of horns and drums. There are also highly decorated banners that preceed each saint to proclaim the name of the saint, where it comes from and some of its worshippers. Afterwards there are traditional dances. It is a procession full of color and noise. Most of the schools in Cusco have off that day, since it's a religious holiday. The plaza is packed with people. However, the holiday is not completely religious. It is also somewhat of a tourist attraction and many people come to watch and eat chiriuchu (a plate of cold food including guinea pig, chicken, fish eggs, seaweed, toasted corn, cheese and a thick, cakey omelet....I'm not sure how to describe that part). This dish is usually only eaten during this time of year. Close to the main plaza there is another plaza called the Plaza de San Francisco. The plaza is full of vendors all selling chiriuchu and beer. Can't forget the beer. No Peruvian religious celebration is complete without it. Many people go home drunk. Another one of the sad realities of Peruvian religious celebrations is that they are often followed by abuse due to drunkenness.
A week later, the saints are taken from the cathedral and carried back to their places of residence throughout the year. Though this is not as big a deal as is their advent to the cathedral, it is still important. People set up stands all along the route back home, selling mainly food and beer. We saw San Jeronimo's procession resting and eating in front of the prison on the way home from school.
Just as the saints are being taken back home, the parades for Cusco Day begin. Cusco Day is celebrated on June 24th. As its name suggests, it is a holiday celebrating Cusco and coincides with one of the most important religious festivals of the Incas: Inti Raymi. More on that in a bit. The 2 weeks leading up to Cusco Day are full of colorful dances celebrating the typical culture here. Schools work hard to prepare dances (during this time we are working hard on schoolwork, not dances, at PROMESA.) and participate in a contest in the main plaza. One night I went to the post office only to discover that one entire side of a main road had been blocked off in order for this competition to happen (this is a quite normal phenomenon and is accepted without complaint by the motorists of Cusco). I decided to head up to the plaza to see what was going on. I stood there for about 2 hours watching the dances (unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me). The dances also continued on for a while after I left around 9 PM. The funniest part was the man with the big drum protruding from his stomach Energizer bunny-style and the Energizer knapsack on his back. That one made me laugh.
The dances and parades continue day after day, with virtually all the schools and colleges participating. Bellas Artes, a local art college, does its own parade every year with all sorts of floats. The culminating parade is on June 23, the night before Cusco Day. Businesses, organizations, neighborhoods, people from the communities around Cusco - all are invited to participate. The parade lasts for hours, with music, some floats, dances, and a ton of people in ponchos walking.
Cusco Day dawns bright and early. Again streets are blocked off and the celebration of Inti Raymi begins. Inti Raymi literally means Festival to the Sun. The Incans believed themselves to be children of the sun and worshipped the sun as their supreme deity. Inti Raymi was celebrated in Incan times and repressed by the Catholic church with the advent of the Spanish. For hundreds of years it was not celebrated until someone decided in the mid 20th century that the practice should be resurrected. It is a time of asking the "father sun" to be kind and to bring a good harvest and not forget the people. It's also a major tourist attraction, probably even more so than an actual sun-worship ceremony. The festivities begin in Korikancha (the ancient Incan temple of the sun - the name literally means "the golden place"), early in the morning. During the times of the Incas, Korikancha was built in such a way that the sunrise on the morning of June 24th hit the temple of the sun just right and the whole room, covered with gold, shone brilliantly. Today there is a colonial church built on top of it and there is no gold (thanks to the Spanish) and that part is lost. It is, however, still the beginning point for the celebration of Inti Raymi. The Inca, after much fanfare on the part of the court (honestly, sometimes it felt more like they were worshipping the Inca rather than the sun), emerges from Korikancha and sings a song to the "father sun". The ceremony is entirely in Quechua, since that is historically accurate. The Inca is played by a professional actor. Royal Incan lineage plays (or has historically played) somewhat of a part in the choosing of this person. The ceremony here is rather short and all the courtiers and lastly the Inca then move to the main plaza of the city for stage 2. The courtiers enter the plaza in groups - the musicians, the dancers, the soldiers, the princesses (literally chosen young women called ñustas who served the Inca), the Inca's wife and lastly the Inca himself. There is much fanfare, dancing, ceremony, color, music and celebration. Again, the Inca sings to the "father sun" and meets with the mayor of Cusco to admonish him to be a good ruler of Cusco and remind him of the values of his people. After this ceremony, the entire group moves up to Sacsayhuaman, the ancient Incan fortress overlooking the city, where the main sun worship ceremony takes place. Again the fanfare. Again the worship. Again the ceremony, the music, the color. Since Inti Raymi is such a tourist attraction, the only really really good views are from the main stage area (which costs about $70 a ticket). But the hills are covered with people for hours before the beginning of this ceremony, trying to see what they can from where they are. The entire procession enters the stage area, again with much ritual. The Inca receives reports from the four regions of the empire and then there is the reading of the coca leaves and the most important part, the sacrifice of the llama (due to animal rights, this is not truly carried out, but is simulated). It's a long day, ending about 3-4 PM. My friends and I left early to go home, so there are no pictures of either of these parts.
However, if you'd like to see more pictures of all these events, please click here to view the album I made on facebook.
Being here in Cusco, sometimes it is hard to know where worship ends and tourism begins. During these holidays, some people really are worshipping the saints and the sun. Others are just there for the chiriuchu or the tourist aspect. Vendors selling ice cream in the streets make a killing. But, whatever the motives of the people may be, I pray that God opens blind eyes and softens hard hearts so that people can see who He truly is and be open to Him. I pray that the glory of the Lord shines upon Cusco and that all may truly know Him. Jesus, You are the only one really worthy of worship.

Majorities and Minorities

The past month in Cusco has been full of many things. June begins the dry season and winter. The mornings are cold and the days are warm and sunny. Just before mid-June, Corpus Cristi happens. This festival celebrates the saint statues that are housed in various cathedrals around Cusco. They all are brought to the main cathedral for a week. More to follow on this, but suffice it to say that, wow, there are a ton of people. The main plaza is completely blocked off to traffic. None could get through anyway. There are that many people packing out the plaza.
Just when Corpus Cristi is over and all the saints are being returned to their various places of residence, Cusco Day happens. Every June 24, Cusco Day is celebrated. Before this day, there are dance competitions with all the schools in Cusco (we don't participate, we actually do work throughout this time). There is also a huge parade of many of the employees of various businesses and residents of various neighborhoods. Again, lots of people and blocked roads.
The actual day of the 24th, there is an annual festival of the sun, a ritual dating from the Incan times. It's mostly touristic at this point, however, it seems. Again, lots of people and more blocked roads.
And then today, we had a March for Jesus. It was easy to tell that we were the minority. Life as normal swirled around us. Cars waited for us to pass. People watched us curiously as we walked by. It wasn't a big deal for anyone but us. It was sad to realize this fact. As I entered the plaza, I remembered how packed it had been the last few times I was there. Now, it was much emptier. The police were standing in a row, if by any chance, just in case there would be some kid of behavioral chaos.
And yet, small as we were, we worshipped. And it was beautiful. We came with hte PROMESA kids, singing and cheering Jesus all the way in English and Spanish) and none of them complained about the long walk, even thouh they were quie tired by the tine we got the plaza. And God was there. We may be the minority, but someday, in faith, maybe we'll be the majority. Maybe someday we'll fill up the plaza, just like everyone else. Till then...keep marching!

My kids

I wish you could meet my kids. Guess that sounds strange in a way for a single person to be saying. One of my third graders asked me the other month if I had kids. I told her I had 55. She looked at me rather agog, mouth and eyes both wide open, and said "55 kids?!". I calmly responded "Yeah, third grade, fourth grade and fifth grade". She thought this over for a few seconds and then said "So, we're your kids?" "Yes, you are", I replied.
I really do feel like my students are my kids. And rather than contradicting this feeling, my kids only feed it. They regularly call me Mami (mommy in Spanish) in class, always correcting themselves and laughing about it afterwards. I even got called Grandma the other week. I won't incriminate anyone on that one... :) They don't wake me up in the middle of the night complaining of hurting tummies or bad dreams, but they do enter my dreams in the middle of the night and they keep me burning the midnight oil sometimes to get everything done on time. They don't clamor at my shoulder for me to come play with them after school and lunch are done, but I do end up working for them during that time. They don't ask me for money, but I do spend it without them knowing. They give me hugs and tell me they don't want me to leave. I give them hugs back and tell them I'm not leaving for a while yet. They tell me they love me. I tell them the same.
My kids make me laugh. Like the other week when Dany was conducting an orchestra in the middle of singing a song in class. His whole little heart was into it and it made me laugh so hard that I couldn't keep singing and the entire class was wondering what was wrong with their teacher! Or the times that they say or do something funny that just makes my day.
My kids make me frustrated. Like when they don't know a word that I'm sure they should know because they've heard it a ton of times. Or when they don't pay attention in class. Or when they are talking during class and I have to keep talking to them.
My kids bless me. Like when they write on their homework "I love you Miss Bethany" or when they come up and give me hugs as I come into the room. Or when they get excited to see me. Or like the other day when I was having a private counseling conversation with Magna during recess and Mabelin made sure we were done before she left the other 5th graders enter the room.
My kids also make me want to cry sometimes. I am not one who cries easily whatsoever. But they make me want to. My heart breaks for Magna and her family situation, for the horribly mean things her dad says to her, for the stress she's under at home because of her dad's affair, for the fact that her little life only has peace when her dad's away. I feel like I know her situation best because she actually talks to me about it. But there's also Alejandra, whose family is also in turmoil right now. And Leo. And Medli. And Ibet, who lives with her dad and misses her mom. And all the others whose problems I don't know about or only have inklings of.
The other day, because of an unexpected emergency, I taught third grade's Bible class on the story of Ruth. We'd just gotten done talking in the teachers' meeting about some of the situations in the school, so that was on my mind. It occurred to me as I thought about the story that it could apply. So as I dramatized the story for them, I emphasized the fact that God never left Naomi alone. The family had problems. Naomi had problems. But God was always with her in that and never left her without someone to comfort her and someone to be with her and provide for her. In Naomi's case, that was Ruth. In the cases of my kids, who knows who that is. But I've been very thankful the last few days that God is an omnipresent God who can help my kids in all their problems and be with them always. Their parents might be fighting. They might be seeing abuse before their very eyes. Their family might be separated. They might have other problems. But God is with them. He is there to hold them and to never ever ever let them go.
So, in answer to my third grader's question, yes I have kids. 55 to be exact. Having 55 kids is a challenge. It's tough, but I love it. It's frustrating, but it's so rewarding. Sometimes I feel a bit like Old Mother Hubbard. Sometimes I feel like the queen of the world. Sometimes I want to ream out parents. Sometimes I want to ream out myself for not being more like Jesus for my kids. I want to be able to love them all unconditionally, no matter how they respond to me in class or what nasty habits they have. I'm finding I need to work on that part some more. They drive me nuts. They drive me to laughter. And they drive me to Jesus and to realize more about my own self.
I have 55 kids. And I wouldn't trade where I am for the world.