On a Missionary Journey

Breathe in...breathe out...

2012-01-23T18:19:00.004-05:00

I've been told here in Peru that I shouldn't tell blond jokes. They consider me to be blond here. :) But, at my own risk and in order to make a point, I'm starting this post out with a blond joke.

So once there was a blond who was always wearing headphones. She wore them to sleep. She wore them to eat. She wore them to the gym. She wore them everywhere. One day, she went to the hairdresser's, still with the headphones in place, and asked for a haircut. As her hair was being cut, the hairdresser asked her to please take off her headphones, to which she responded, "I would, but I cant. If I do, I'll die." So the haircut was completed around the headphones. The same scene was repeated in 3 months and in another 3 months. Finally, the hairdresser got fed up and yanked the offending headphones off her client's head. As promised, the blond dropped over, dead as a doornail. The hairdresser got curious and wondered what in the world was playing over those crazy headphones. As she held them up to her ears, she heard this: Breathe in.....breathe out.....breathe in.....breathe out.....

I thought of this joke as I was reading Psalm 23 today. Really. I read a phrase that I've read over hundreds of times but never really processed. It goes like this:

He restores my soul (v.3)

And that means....? Good question! I asked the same thing. So I turned to my parallel versions and languages, which is where I go anytime I read a verse and go "Huh??" According to the NIV in Spanish and the Quechua Bible, it means that he gives me new strength. According to the Reina-Valera in Spanish, it means that he comforts my soul. According to the Message, it means that God gives me a place to breathe.

A place to breathe....hmmm.....

You know, I've often been thankful that breathing is an involuntary action. My life would have been extremely short had it not been for that fact. How many times do we sit down at the end of the day and say "Wow, I haven't gotten a chance to breathe all day!"? Thankfully, PHYSICAL breathing is involuntary.

It occurred to me this morning, though, that I think I could use a pair of those headphones to help me to concentrate on spiritual breathing. Unfortunately, it's not so reflexive.

Spiritual breathing......say what?! Let me explain.

First, let's think about the basics of breathing. Hang in there. I'm a teacher. I'll get past the science lesson in a second. Breathing consists of two opposite, interrelated and interdependent functions - inhalation and exhalation. Take away one and you die. Plain and simple. Okay, so what does this have to do with God, besides the fact that He created the concept? This is what He showed me this morning. Some things in life are "inhalation" things. They are the things that fill us up. They're different for everyone, but some things I thought of are devotional times, listening to worship music, quick prayers in the middle of the day, reading a good book, vacation, retreats, etc.... Other things in life are "exhalation" things. They are the things that we don't enjoy doing, the things that simply need to be done, or simply things we do where we are pouring out of ourselves into the lives of others (which, though rewarding, is many times still an exhale). Some examples I thought of are: waiting in line, taking care of a screaming baby, teaching 70 kids every day, serving all day at a restaurant, tense relationships with other people, fear, insecurity, lies, etc....

Now, here's the thing. The world thrives on exhalation. The world will take, take, take and never give. The enemy has come to steal, kill and destroy (John 10:10). And that is exactly what he will do. Unfortunately, our human default setting is "exhale". Maybe a typical day looks like this:

Get up, get ready for the day: exhale
Spend time with Jesus: inhale
Make breakfast: exhale
Get kids off to school: exhale
Road rage on the way to work: exhale
Nonstop work all morning: exhale
Lunch break: could be either, really...
Nonstop work all afternoon: exhale
Concentrating on the road on the way home: exhale
Make supper: exhale
Listen to kids fighting at the supper table: exhale
Wash dishes: exhale
Family time: inhale (hopefully)
Get kids off to bed: exhale
Pray with kids: inhale
Adult time: inhale
Sleep: could be either, really, depending on the quality of your sleep...

So you could really make a million adaptations to this list. But the point remains. The world will find an infinite number of opportunities to make us exhale. Unfortunately, we are the ones who need to find opportunities to inhale. It's not necessarily a natural skill.

The second part of that verse in John 10:10 says this "I have come that they may have life and have it to the full" (Jesus speaking). Matt 11:28-30 says this: "Come to me all you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Jesus has come to allow us to inhale. Jesus has come to restore our souls, to give us room to breathe, to give us new strength. The thing is, the only way we can have all that is to make time to allow Jesus and His inhalation to pierce through the world's exhalation.

Uh huh. And that looks like...? To be honest, I'm not sure what it looks like for you. It looks different for everyone. Here are some of my "inhales":
- Devotions
- Walking to and from school while listening to music
- Writing
- My list of 1000 gifts (taken from the book One Thousand Gifts - Ann Voskamp)
- Journaling
- Quick moments to connect with God throughout the day
- Scrapbooking
- Good conversations
- Andes mints while working on schoolwork
- Comfortable chair to relax in
- Looking at the mountains outside my windows

The list could go on and on. Your list is probably completely different. God's challenge to me this morning was to concentrate on that breathing in and breathing out. It's not instinctive. That's why I'd like a pair of headphones like that blond had. It's a learning curve. And yet it's possible. It also struck me this morning that this is how Jesus lived. He did it naturally. So it also helps me to be more like Jesus and walk in "paths of righteousness for your name's sake" (Ps. 23:3)

You restore my soul.
Breathe in.
You lead me in paths of righteousness
Breathe out.

Thank you, Jesus, for...

2011-11-25T16:39:00.002-05:00

I decided to let my kids write this blog post. :)
While talking yesterday in class about Thanksgiving, I asked them "What can you say thank you to Jesus for?" This sparked a nearly half-hour spontaneous pouring-out of thanks to Jesus for...well, pretty much everything! So I decided, since today was their reading group day, to have them write down a list of things they are thankful for. It turned out to be a very popular journal idea! Here is a compilation of most of the things they wrote (minus the duplicates - and yes, they wrote all in English!). Enjoy!

Thank you, Jesus, for apples.
Thank you, Jesus, for my eyes.
Thank you, Jesus, for my mouth.
Thank you, Jesus, for bananas.
Thank you, Jesus, for my books.
Thank you, Jesus, for bears.
Thank you, Jesus, for my school.
Thank you, Jesus, for oxygen.
Thank you, Jesus, for the earth.
Thank you, Jesus, for my pets.
Thank you, Jesus, for water.
Thank you, Jesus, for my friends.
Thank you, Jesus, for my family.
Thank you, Jesus, for plants.

"In my garden are flowers, butterflies, and insects. The insects are nice. And I said:
Thank you, Jesus, for insects.
Thank you, Jesus, for life.
Thank you, Jesus, for plants.
Thank you, Jesus, for my family.
and thank you, Jesus, for your creation."

Thank you, Jesus, for my house.
Thank you, Jesus, for Miss Bethany
Thank you, Jesus, for Daniel Monkey. (my little teaching assistant!)
Thank you, Jesus, for Miss Nancy. (the fourth grade teacher)
Thank you, Jesus, for Diego. (a classmate)
Thank you, Jesus, for everything.
Thank you, Jesus, for my teachers.
Thank you, Jesus, for my sister.
Thank you, Jesus, for me.
Thank you, Jesus, for food.
Thank you, Jesus, for Peru.
Thank you, Jesus, for people.
Thank you, Jesus, for cats.
Thank you, Jesus, for dogs.
Thank you, Jesus, for my brother.
Thank you, Jesus, for my mother.
Thank you, Jesus, for my father.
Thank you, Jesus, for love me. (unedited version)
Thank you, Jesus, for Mr. Jacob. (a guy who is helping with English classes)
Thank you, Jesus, for Fabricio. (a classmate)
Thank you, Jesus, for English.
Thank you, Jesus, for Shifu. (her dog)
Thank you, Jesus, for Miss Bethany, Nancy, Luz, María Esther, Dámaris, Marisol and Miss Ruth. (all teachers at the school)
Thank you, Jesus, for ice cream.
Thank you, Jesus, for my bed.
Thank you, Jesus, for animals.
Thank you, Jesus, for stars.
Thank you, Jesus, for the night.
Thank you, Jesus, for flowers.
Thank you, Jesus, for trees.
Thank you, Jesus, for my name Maricé.

Amen.

And that's the way life goes...

2011-11-14T17:56:00.003-05:00

Think fall into winter, think spicy gingerbread in the oven, filling the whole house with its delicious aroma and hot apple cider in warm mugs clutched by cold hands...
Yeah, my mouth is watering too. So when my support team (MST) decided to have a skype virtual meeting tonight and mentioned bringing those snacks on their end, I thought it would be fun and delicious to have them on my end also! So why am I still sitting here with a watering mouth and not rolling and cutting out stacks of gingerbread cookies or nursing my second mug of hot apple cider? Glad you asked! Let me explain what it takes to make these two simple treats in Peru.
Gingerbread is not that complicated. There's only one problem, technically. The molasses. Molasses, as far as I know experientially, does not exist in Cusco. So getting molasses for cookies means going to the Wanchaq market (a 45-minute ride one way in public transportation) and paying about $4.00 for a 1/2 liter bottle of algarrobina syrup from one of the women who sells juice in the market. This syrup comes from a tree and has a taste that approximates molasses. Days slip by in a blur of school, schoolwork, church, school trip, emailing, creating dramas for school, etc. And before I know it, I no longer have time to take said 45-minute trip downtown to purchase my bottle of algarrobina syrup. Save the gingerbread for another day. It would have taken forever to cool the dough in my fridge anyway. My fridge is, I'm suspecting, on its last of over 20 years of legs and is not refrigerating the way it should be. And then, as I'm looking for a substitute recipe for chocolate chip cookies, I find it! The answer to my sticky molasses dilemma! Chancaca syrup! Cha-what?! Chancaca syrup. Chancaca is a sugar cane product. The best way I can describe it is to call it burnt sugar made into balls and sold in the market. According to my favorite Andean, high-altitude cookbook, a molasses-like product can be made with chancaca balls boiled and dissolved in water. Make a mental note: I have to try that! And as I begin to measure out flour and soften butter to make my chocolate chip substitutes for spicy gingerbread goodness, the guy comes with the gas can that will make my oven work. Great! Except not. Apparently, the valve that connects the hose to the gas can has somehow broken. The gas delivery guy doesn't have another one. Making my oven work again will require a trip downtown to a hardware store to buy another hose and valve combination, apparently. And who knows how to put one of those on a stove? Not me!
Mission postponed. The great chancaca syrup and gingerbread experiment will have to wait for another day. :( My mouth is still watering...
The other part of my idea was hot apple cider. Sounds WONDERFUL! I think it's been about 3 years since I've had any of that warm, sticky goodness. My stomach is happy with just the thought of it. But...there is no apple cider in Peru. I look online. The Wiki community, that source of free information on just about anything, comes to the rescue. WikiHow contains easy instructions to make apple cider with apples, a blender and cheesecloth (I think I can substitute a strainer). Then just boil it with the spices and voila! If I can't have my gingerbread, at least maybe the apple cider will come through for me.
Oh right. Except I have no gas. I can't boil the apple cider. That would be a problem.
I am not a missionary for nothing, however. It is not that easy to make me give up. I've got the idea. My mouth is watering. Now it's just a question of a new gas valve, chancaca, and time. One of these days, hopefully, I'll be able to write part 2 of this story, while savoring my tasty fall goodness.
I love Peru, but, yes, that IS the way life goes...

Broken Lives

2011-10-06T18:45:00.002-04:00

Two weeks after my arrival back in Peru, we had parent teacher conferences. As I talked to one parent after another, I realized how many of my students live daily with great hurts. Many of them have only one parent. Of those who have two parents, a good number of them still feel like their parents have no time for them because of work. This includes those whose parents don't come home till late at night because they're working all day. This also includes those whose parents are always at church and never have time for the family. It also includes a number of students who live with one parent and the other parent works in another city or drives truck and only comes home once every two weeks or month or so. Others of my students live with parents who fight or drink a lot. I talked to another mother and her son, individually. The son sees the father as showing favoritism to his older brother. I encouraged the mother to talk to her husband and encourage him to set aside a time to do something special with the younger son as well. We have students at the school who have been involved in pornography, drugs, alcohol, smoking and with pedophiles. We have students at school who routinely come home to empty houses. We have students who would be in special ed. if they were in the States.
It is tremendously difficult to minister to the heart-needs of 71 students in the course of a day. I am not perfect, by any means. I always see ways I could be doing better. But I take faith in the little seeds of hope I see. Aldair, Dennis and Patricia got better grades on their English tests this month. For that matter, most of my students did really well on their English tests this month. Aldair actually participated voluntarily in class twice today! I think that's a first all year. Frana went crying to the principal the other day requesting prayer and forgiveness because she's been treating her classmates badly for a LONG time. Then she came into class and asked forgiveness of her classmates. Marcelo opened his heart today and told me that he has been mad because Jafet insulted him several weeks ago. Samuel worked well in class the last few days (a minor miracle!). Patricia, Maricé, Sebastián and Milagros all encouraged me while I was fighting an allergic reaction of unknown origin. I felt Jesus' love through them. I am constantly reminded of the fragility of my clay vessel. At any minute I can break and I need Jesus to remake me.
I talked to the mother of one of my seventh graders today. This girl has been involved in some really heavy stuff and she's only 12 years old! The last time I talked with the mother was at parent-teacher conferences, when she broke down crying because we had to drop a bombshell on her about her daughter and she had had no idea. Today she told me she's getting involved in one of the local churches. "Pray for me," she pleaded. It seems as though her daughter is at a better place spiritually than she was a month ago when I came and we talked during the parent-teacher conferences. That is encouraging!
I've been challenged over the past month that what God has called me to here is simply to be faithful every day in the little things and to speak of Him whenever I can. This has led to conversations about the end of the world, loving your enemies, and being faithful, among other things. Most days I feel so imperfect, so far from where I want to be. Things come out of my mouth that I wish I could retract. I have attitudes that are not God-honoring. And yet, in the midst of it all, I can still see God's hand of grace at work on my life as I look back over the days. The other month for Family Day, one of the 6th-grade boys lip-synced this song (in Spanish). Listening to him practice and looking out across my students in chapel the day before almost brought tears to my eyes. This is so my prayer!

I Want to Be Just Like You - Phillips, Craig and Dean

He climbs in my lap for a goodnight hug
He calls me Dad and I call him Bub
With his faded old pillow and a bear named Pooh
He snuggles up close and says, "I want to be like you"
I tuck him in bed and I kiss him goodnight
Trippin' over the toys as I turn out the light
And I whisper a prayer that someday he'll see
He's got a father in God 'cause he's seen Jesus in me

Lord, I want to be just like You
'Cause he wants to be just like me
I want to be a holy example
For his innocent eyes to see
Help me be a living Bible, Lord
That my little boy can read
I want to be just like You
'Cause he wants to be like me

Got to admit I've got so far to go
Make so many mistakes and I'm sure that you know
Sometimes it seems no matter how hard I try
With all the pressures in life I just can't get it all right
But I'm trying so hard to learn from the best
Being patient and kind, filled with Your tenderness
'Cause I know that he'll learn from the things that he sees
And the Jesus he finds will be the Jesus in me

Right now from where he stands I may seem mighty tall
But it's only 'cause I'm learning from the best Father of them all

I'm home!

2011-08-26T09:25:00.001-04:00

Thank you for your prayers for traveling mercies. I had a pretty uneventful trip. My first plane was delayed about 1 1/2 hours, so I only had about 20 minutes to catch my other plane in Orlando. By the grace of God I made it and there were about 7 of us in the same position, so they held the plane. My luggage also came through fine, much to my surprise! I must say, I am jealous of people who are able to sleep in airplanes and uncomfortable airport seats. I laid on top of my luggage and got maybe a half an hour of sleep that way, but that's pretty much it.

I got home to find that my entire house is torn apart. The owner of the house is a carpenter and installed wood flooring while I was gone. However, he didn't get to fimish varnishing it before I arrived. So I'm going to go stay with some friends for about 2 days, try to clean my house on Sunday afternoon and at some point in the weekend, plan for next week. It's going to be a CRAZY first week back. But I am back home and seeing a few people again. Welcome to Peru where nothing happens quite like you think it should. :) God's grace is great.

I think that's it for now. I'll write more later, after I sleep and get my feet underneath me again.

Leaving Home, Heading Home...

2011-08-21T18:45:00.002-04:00

4 days.
Wow, the summer went fast! I just got here and now I'm going to leave again in 4 days.
When I came to the States, I wasn't sure what to expect. Would I feel like I was dropped off on an alien planet? Would it all feel familiar? Would I go into shock when stepping into Wal-Mart? Would you remember me or would I be a face from the past, covered up on your refrigerator door by grocery lists and school permission forms?
I got off the plane and found home. I found you with your arms wide open. I found God. He still provides. He's still the same. I found memories from my past. I found food that I didn't know I loved so much till I didn't have it for 3 years. :) I found people I've loved for years. I found new faces that I've loved building relationships with. I have received from you. I've tried to give back a little portion of that. Yes, I wanted to escape from Wal-Mart and the grocery store at times. But I found a whole lot more that made me want to stay than that made me want to turn tail and run.
I'm able to be a bit more honest than I used to be, I think. And I found that you are more honest as well. And you know what? Down under all the labels we wear - missionary, stay-at-home mom, working young adult, grandparent - we all look a lot the same. I've heard my story and my struggles echoing off your lips and out of your heart. The sin nature I've been struggling with is the same one you've struggled with as well. The things God's been trying to teach me are some of the same things you've been trying to learn as well.
My worlds feel like two totally different places. Yet, they intersect each other. I've been keeping up with what's going on in Peru while I've been here. I keep up more or less with what's going on here while I'm there.
4 days.
4 days and I will again be in my other world. I will again sleep in my bed under 3 blankets and wear 4 layers of clothing on a regular basis. I'll go back to shoes all the time. I'll be back to eating potatoes and speaking Quechua. I will once again hug familiar arms I haven't seen for 3 months. I'll hear stories and share stories. I'm excited.
I brought Peru in my heart with me. I still carry it. I took the US in my heart to Peru. I still carry that too. I carry Peru and I carry PA in my heart at the same time - the people, the food, the places. I call myself Peruvican sometimes. Too American to be Peruvian, but too Peruvian to be totally American.
I left home to head home in May. I found home here again. Now I'm leaving home to head home again. I'm refreshed. I've loved spending my summer with you. You have blessed my life tremendously in the last 3 months.
Thank you.

I don't think I'm in Peru anymore....

2011-06-21T10:50:00.005-04:00

This world is a strange place sometimes, especially with the ease of travel these days. You get in a car in Lancaster County, drive half an hour and go from downtown, multicultural Lancaster city to dodging horse deposits on the roads of Amish country. You go 6 hours from mid-PA and end up on the beach, in a different climate and a culture built around the ocean. You fly to Orlando and suddenly you're surrounded by 6-foot-high talking mice and ducks. Oh, and princesses who live in castles on clouds and break into random songs about birds, brooms and beaus. Or you drive to the mid-west and suddenly find yourself the only one in a large crowd of people not wearing a cowboy hat and boots. It's just the way our world works.
If it's true in our country, it's doubly true coming from (or going to) another country. It's even true if you've been in another country for a while and then come back to the country of your birth, believe it or not. So just for fun, here are some stories of reverse culture shock and cultural discoveries, as experienced over the last few weeks.

Orlando airport, 2 AM, May 27
I am dying of thirst. I never drink much when I travel and I've been out of my house now for about 16 hours. I have two big, heavy suitcases, plus my backpack and my purse, and I can't leave them unattended. But I am so thirsty. And there's another problem. It's 2 AM and there is nothing open, as far as I can see. I go to look, sweating in the Orlando heat, wheeling my suitcases with me. I'm getting desperate, looking around for one place that's open, where I can buy one measly little bottle of water. Is that too much to ask? If I don't find water soon, they are going to find a dead body when the airport wakes up in the morning. And then I spy it. Hanging on the wall, refreshment, free for the taking, a small silver bowl with a button that says PUSH. In my head, I see the light shining on it, as though from a spotlight above it. I hear the music, the long "voila" sound that comes with some great discovery. I rush over to it like a dehydrated desert tourist would rush to a tiny oasis. I push the button and, like magic, water gushes out the top. I stand there and drink for what feels like forever, trying desperately to satiate the deep thirst inside. Finally, unable to intake any more water, I breathe a deep sigh of relief and marvel at the beauty of the simple water fountain.

Lancaster, PA, 9 AM, May 30
Pancakes are a pretty good option for a breakfast food, I thought. My roommate CJ was outside painting and I was determined to make a good breakfast for us both. I know how to make pancakes. So I measured and mixed and found everything I needed. 1 egg, it said. Open up the refrigerator. That's normal. Grab the egg carton (eggs don't come the same way in Peru, but that wasn't too bad.) Then I opened up the egg carton and started laughing hysterically as I saw, marching across each little white egg in pink ink "Use by...." and a date. I suppose US chickens must be smarter than Peruvian chickens, knowing how to eat all those letters in order so they'll come out in order on the egg. I've decided part of my ministry for my second term in Peru will be teaching chickens how to write the expiration date on their eggs, just to prove to myself forever that I am a good teacher! :)

Lancaster, PA, 3 PM, May 30
Apparently, the days of struggling to carry 4 big bags of groceries in from the car are a thing of the not-so-distant past. The modern American woman can carry 8 or even 10 bags of groceries in from the car without breaking a sweat or throwing her back out. Why? Because they only bag 1 TYPE of food in a bag! Why? Who knows! Maybe they need more bags to recycle to make that plastic wood they use for playgrounds nowadays. Maybe one type of food can infest another. Or maybe they are only making water-bottle caps half as big so that they can use all the extra plastic to make plastic bags. I've decided that as often as I can remember, I'm taking a Peruvian market bag to the grocery store from now on.

Lancaster, PA, 5 PM, May 30
It's been a day for culture shock. Might as well make it a full day and head to the grocery store with CJ and Liz to pick up some extras we forgot earlier. And so my brain is overloaded with 50 choices of everything from cookies (how many kinds of Oreos can people come up with?) to yogurt (organic, plain, whipped, natural, light, fruit-flavored, Greek style...). I have yet to venture into the cereal aisle. I realized why the American society has such a problem with eating too much junk food. We have too many options and can never get bored with them. And the advertising industry is built around one thing: make one good thing, get people hooked on it; improve it and get people to buy more. Unfortunately, as I've also realized in the grocery store over the past few weeks, the good-for-you food is the stuff you can get anywhere in the world. The stuff that I look at and go "Well, I haven't had that for a while!" is the junk food. Not a good thing. I think I'll take minimal trips to the grocery store this summer. It's okay...I can't find anything when I'm there anyway! Guess that's why they make those "Where to find it in the grocery store" signs that hang from the ceiling, for people like me.

Lancaster PA, 11:30 AM, mid-June
Liz and I left home an hour ago to run errands and we're coming back already! I laugh, making a comparison to doing errands in Peru, where getting downtown alone takes me 45 minutes on public transportation. And then I realize something. If I can pack 5 things in a day in Peru, I can pack about 10 in the same day in the US. Things move faster and take less time. And then I got to thinking about cooking. Cooking in Peru is easily a 1-2 hour process (longer, if you take forever to cook, like I do) till you get everything together, cut it all up and cook it. There are virtually no pre-cooked meals that you pop in the oven for 20 minutes and serve, no pre-chopped vegetables or ones that come from a can. Therefore, it would seem that if the American lifestyle moves so much faster than the Peruvian one, there would be more time to cook from scratch like they do in Peru, right? Wrong! And as we drive through the streets of Lancaster, heading home, I realize again "This is definitely not Peru!"

Things are different here in the United States. But different isn't always bad. I enjoy sleeping in air-conditioning when it's 95 degrees outside. I also enjoy the remote control that came with the air conditioner I'm using when I get awake in the middle of the night a bit chilly and want to turn it off without fully waking up. And, as much as I believe there are way too many junk food options in the grocery store (way too many options, period), they do look awfully good!

There is, however, one thing that does not change: God. God is the same whether I'm looking up at a star-studded sky in Peru or eating cherries in Lancaster. I'm so thankful for the assurance that God is always the same and will never change.

Living between Two Worlds

2011-06-02T14:45:00.002-04:00

For those of you who are not aware of this, I am in the States!
I arrived back on May 27 and am living in Lancaster city for the summer with some friends, reconnecting, recharging and getting ready to go back for another three years in Peru. I'd really like to get together with as many people as possible during this time, so hopefully I'll be able to see all of you this summer.
Being a missionary is a unique position to be in. There is a part of me that is in two worlds and I'm trying to learn how to live between the two of them. There is a part of me that is American. I look it, I speak it, and I think it and I love my people here. There is also a part of me that is Peruvian. I speak it, I think it and I love my people there also. (I don't look it yet. They tell me I should dye my hair. I'm not convinced yet.)
So, for those of you who wonder "What does it look like or feel like to live between two worlds?", let me give you a glimpse.
It means....
... people threatening to tie you up and keep you in one place while people in the other place threaten punishment if you don't visit. And you want both.
... leaving home to go home and missing home while you're home.
... leaving family to go see family and missing family while you're with family.
... being surrounded by open arms. One set is open, releasing you while the other set is open, receiving you. And then they turn around and release you again to the other set of arms, which is open to receive you back.
... always wondering, no matter which world you are in, what is happening in the other world.
... two sets of favorite foods that you crave while you're away.
... doing things that seem a little off-kilter because "that's how you do it in the other world".
... constantly comparing things in your mind between the two worlds, no matter where you are.

In another vein, I feel a little bit like I am living Acts 2 right now, where everyone shared everything in common. I feel so blessed being back in Lancaster, among my family here again, enjoying seeing everyone after so long. Thank you all for the warm welcome back, for listening and loving, for understanding, for spending time, for doing and for just being. You are a blessing.

Life as I see it...

2011-04-06T19:31:00.002-04:00

I'm so thankful for people who can see beyond life as I see it. I'm thankful for the people who see beyond the day-to-day stuff and can see a bigger picture than I see most days as I live out the normal, day-to-day routines. I'm thankful for the random surprise notes in the post office box that say "You are making a difference" or "We're praying for you" or "God is using you". It is such a blessing and an encouragement to me to hear that. Why? Because many times it's so easy to get stuck missing the forest for the trees.
It strikes me funny sometimes the way life is. I don't even feel most of the time like I'm living in another country because it becomes so normal after a while. Someone commented to me the other month, "You have such an interesting life!" It is interesting. I can't deny it. I love living in Peru. I love my life. I love the opportunities to walk on history, squeeze on public transportation, blunder my way through a sentence in Quechua and wash bananas in jungle rivers. But I feel like most of the time, life in Peru is just...well...life with a little more spice and interesting additions than normal. Not that life is boring by any means - not in the least! But there are a lot of things that are just a part of normal life and don't feel too spectacular or glamorous or interesting. Most days just fly by in a mad rush of grading homework, teaching classes, planning lessons, making up worksheets, washing dishes, doing laundry, paying bills, trying to figure out the best way to teach my kids, making up games for school, eating lunch, trying to remember to drink enough water, doing paperwork, discussing some issue with someone, or going downtown to buy some necessary item. It's easy to get caught up in those things and miss the big-picture things, how God is moving and what God is doing through and in spite of me. Which is why I'm thankful for other people who have an outside perspective and open my eyes to see it too.
So thank you to all those who help remind me of the bigger picture, of the grand adventure I really am a part of, of the beauty of God's work that surrounds me. Thank you for those who remind and help me to look at the beauty of the forest and stop concentrating on the individual trees. And mostly, thank you to God, who is the author of it all and, in the midst of homework, schoolwork and housework, is working greater and grander things - things, like the author of Hebrews says, "not yet seen".

The Case of the Stranded Documents

2011-03-17T22:15:00.002-04:00

It was a bright and sunny afternoon in Lima, Peru in January, 2011. I was accompanying John Kreider, fellow missionary, to take my residence card and passport to the offices of the National Evangelical Council of Peru (CONEP) to get my residence card stickered to make it legal for the next year. We took it there, dropped it off, grabbed some ice cream to beat the heat and went back to the hotel where the entire missionary team was staying on retreat. And that is when the great mystery began.
Several days later, we received a call that my residence card could NOT be updated for the next year, because, according to Peruvian immigrations, I have been in Bolivia for the past two years. To clear up any confusion, I was in Bolivia two years ago for vacation, but I most definitely DID come back and I HAVE been here for the past two years, very much living in Cusco, Peru. Mystery number 1: Why does Peru think I am in Bolivia? Answer number 1: They don't have any record of me re-entering Peru, though I'm sure I gave it to them at the border... Mystery number 2: Why was this not a problem last year? Answer number 2: I have no idea...
My case: Upon entering Bolivia the first time, 2 1/2 years ago, I did not want to pay the $130 visa fee for Americans. Therefore, having Peruvian residency, I used my residency card to pass the border and escaped paying the $130 fee. No one said anything and I innocently rejoiced in the great savings. Entering Bolivia again 4 months later, I did the same thing. Apparently, I'm not supposed to go anywhere without using my passport because then the record of my travels on my passport and my travels on my residence card do not match up. I don't understand what the big deal is, but whatever.
I needed my documents in order to fly back to Cusco, so we returned to the CONEP offices for them before leaving Lima. Upon returning to Cusco, I promptly sent my documents back to Lima and waited. And waited...about a week. Finally, CONEP responded to my inquiries by telling me that they were going to do some kind of a "regularization of migratory movement", annulling the last time I went to Bolivia. Then after that, they should be able to update my residence card with no problem. I rejoiced in the good news and answer to prayer.
Then I learned that the Peruvian government now requires all power of attorney letters to be notarized (brand new law). I needed to get one legalized so that the CONEP people could do all my paperwork for me.
Problem: you can't get anything notarized in Cusco without either a passport or a valid Peruvian identity document. All of my stuff was in Lima. So I had to ask CONEP to send me back my passport so I could notarize the letter and send the whole works back to them. They did and I did. And then I waited again. And waited.
Finally, last week I got another email from them. Apparently, immigrations in Lima had to talk to immigrations in Puno (where I left the country to go to Bolivia), in order to do this regularization of migratory movement. And apparently, immigrations in Puno has not responded to immigrations in Lima yet. So CONEP has to file a formal complaint with immigrations in Lima because they are taking so long.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all I know. I am praying for favor with the government and praying that my documents can get miraculously saved from the black hole of government offices in Lima so that I can buy plane tickets to go to the States this summer. I'm praying it can all get resolved quickly and that in the end, everything would work out. Please join with me in prayer for my stranded documents to be liberated and to return to Cusco safe, healthy and soon.

Jungle Adventures, chapter 2: Bananas 101

2011-03-09T22:44:00.001-05:00

They say better late than never, so here's installment two...

Early Tuesday morning, we were awakened by Meche's sister Doris informing us that their brother Rony and his wife Noelia had gotten through the river okay in their truck, coming back from Cusco, and were waiting outside to take us to a native village called Shintuya because they had a load of passengers to take. They have an interesting job. Their job is to transport bananas to Cusco in their truck and then bring back food staples, passengers, and whatever else other people request from Cusco to the jungle, because you can't get a lot of things in the jungle. But when it rains a lot and the river gets really high, they sometimes have problems getting through. Everyone was relieved to hear they'd made it okay. So we quickly got dressed and hopped in the back of the truck, in the drizzly remnants of the previous night's torrential downpour. The truck was covered with a thick canvas so the rain didn't get in, but it was rather chilly for the jungle anyway. After the drizzle stopped and we passed all the police points, Rony stopped his truck, put a mattress in the little basket over the cab and Meche, Lisi and I hopped in. It was like going on a safari riding on a giraffe. We were about 10 feet off the ground and had a beautiful, unobstructed view of the jungle and the scenery around us. Except for the chilly wind and the bugs implanting themselves in our faces, it was perfect and I realized it was probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that not many people can say they've had! :) We rode this way about an hour until we got to the native community of Shintuya. "Native" actually means "civilized native". There are real native communities in the Peruvian jungle (a lot of them, actually), but these natives were clad and lived a bit more like the rest of Peruvian society. We didn't stay long there, but we did stay long enough to see a family of natives heading to the hills barefoot to go hunting for several days or weeks. And we got to see their canoes and things. It was an interesting little visit. Then we headed back to a village called Mansilla, along the banks of a river. In that village is where most of the bananas that Rony and Noelia transport are grown. They get a lot of their bananas from church members and then bring things back to Cusco for them and others. While they sold their merchandise from the back of their truck, we wandered down to the river to wait for them. It was shallow and crystalline. We found a rock filled with clay that we used to paint our faces like natives (or at least like we thought natives would paint their faces). And we found a clump of mud that we used to do our own mud facials. So we found plenty to do while waiting for Rony and Noelia. In the afternoon, we headed back to Noelia's family's house in Salvacion and hung out with them for the afternoon. We headed home and enjoyed a quiet evening at Meche's sister's house. Wednesday morning, we were supposed to meet Rony and Noelia at Noelia's family's house so that we could go back to Mansilla to have the adventure of picking up bananas with them. It ended up that plans changed and we were going to go to Noelia's family's banana field in the afternoon. So we cooked lunch to take with us and then headed out in the truck for the banana field. When we got there, we ate lunch, then headed down to the field. Rony and another guy from the church were cutting bananas to take to Cusco and we headed out with a machete to find what we could find. Before we went down into the field, they were telling me I was going to have a rough time of it. I'd washed my only pair of long pants the night before by hand and they were still considerably wet. Plus, I thought we were going to the river, so I wore capris. In the end, Noelia's mom had an extra pair of old socks that she cut the toes out of. So I stretched them between my ankles and knees and was able to enjoy the afternoon. Ah, the grace of God found in the most unexpected places! :) We ended up finding a bunch of papayas that needed harvesting. So I had my first jungle fruit harvesting course. Papaya harvesting 101:

1. Find a long stick with a fork in the end.

2. Make sure you have two people with something big like a blanket that they can hold between them.

3. Stick the forked stick on the stem of the papaya and push till the stem breaks.

4. Catch the papaya in the blanket and put it gently on the ground, being careful to not touch the sap, which apparently makes your skin burn.

Hacking our way through the undergrowth with a machete, we eventually found their cornfield also. I was quite excited to see small-kernel corn and was hoping it was American-style sweet corn. I carefully brought an ear home with me in my bag, cooked it and eagerly bit into it. No such luck. Field corn. :( Meanwhile, the guys were hacking down heavy bunches of bananas with machetes and carrying them on their backs up a fairly steep, muddy slope to the waiting truck. We finished mid-afternoon and went home for a MUCH-needed shower before the Wednesday evening church service. We wanted to teach them some of the songs we know from church, so in between showering, we copied 6 of them down on big chart papers and taught them to the church. After the service we celebrated the birthday of one of the church members with Coke and crackers. Apparently, he doesn't really have family to celebrate with him, so it was fun to help be a part of that.

The next morning, we woke up bright and early in more rain to head back to Mansilla to pick up a load of bananas for Rony and Noelia to take back to Cusco. Thus began the course I like to call Bananas 101. We ended up having to wait all morning because of the rain and because the special truck that can go up the river to collect the bananas was not available. Around 11 it came and we left to head up the river in the truck. Lisi stayed behind with the truck (and to nap a bit), but Meche and I had quite an adventure dodging branches that wanted to slap us in the face as the truck literally went straight up the river. It was not a deep river, but the truck was designed to go straight up it. After driving about half an hour or so, we got to where the church people and their bananas were waiting for us along the river. They found it quite entertaining to hear me conversing in my semi-butchered Quechua. These brothers and sisters grow the bananas in their fields, then cut them down and haul them carefully to the river. If they are not careful, the bananas will get bruised and mushed and they won't be good anymore. While we were there, about 15 bunches of bananas (okay, not little bunches like you get at the grocery store, but imagine about 20 of those bunches on a huge, thick stem). This is one way that they can provide for their famillies. The truck filled up with bananas quickly and Meche and I ended up walking back to Rony's truck down the river, following the banana truck. Once the banana truck got back to Rony's truck, the bananas were carefully unloaded into the river. The big, thick stems that support all the little bunches of bananas make it difficult to fill Rony's truck to max capacity, so we spent all afternoon cutting the bananas off the stems. We made a dam with the stems of bananas which kept the individual small bunches from floating away. The only problem with washing bananas is the bugs. Big spders and cockroaches love to live in bananas and I caused consternation on several occasions by letting out little screams when they found me. I had to remember the stories my high school history teacher told about his adventures unloading bananas in the States and finding spiders the size of his hand. Those stories were never far from my mind. And then I discovered something else - stinging ants.

All of a sudden, while I was rinsing the sticky sap off the bananas and getting them ready to head back to Cusco, burning pain shot through my finger. It quickly moved up into my biceps. Being out in the middle of nowhere in the jungle, not knowing what it was exactly, hearing stories of biting spiders and ants that cause instantaneous fever does not exactly make for warm fuzzy feelings. Meche, Lisi and I were all a bit concerned until Noelia was able to diagnose it. The sting hurt like crazy for an hour or two and I stopped washing bananas and turned instead to supper detail with Noelia. By this time, it was getting dark and we still needed to finish washing the bananas and then load them to the truck. I started helping again after supper and we finished by around midnight. We then drove back into Mansilla, about 2 minutes away, and collapsed on blanket-mattresses on the floor of the community room. Between the thought of what could be crawling over my face while I was sleeping and the hard cement floor beneath me, I didn't exactly sleep like I would have had I been in my bed. We awoke early on Friday morning, planning on heading back to Salvaciion pretty directly. However, there were more bananas to be collected, so we ended up leaving mid-morning. Back in Salvacion, we took our time getting showers and decided we'd go later to check about getting tickets to go back to Cusco that afternoon. I had to be back quickly in order to leave again on Sunday morning for team retreat, so we needed to make sure we got going that day. We found tickets for an 11:30 bus that would take us about an hour to where we could get another bus to Cusco. So that's what we did. We waited around all afternoon at a restaurant in Pillcopata, where the first bus dropped us off, then boarded the other bus in Pillcopata to go back to Cusco. I was warned before we left not to accept any bags or anything from strangers because they'd be coca leaves (the basis from which cocaine is made). And really, we stopped at a police checkpoint in the middle of the night sometime and they found a whole feed bag full of coca leaves that they confiscated. It was a pretty crazy scene - police yelling, people yelling, mass pandemonium on the bus. But we made it through, made it through the holes in the road, through the swaying bus, through even more rain, through a long night of traveling and arrived back in Cusco the next morning around 6:30, exhausted but having enjoyed our many, many adventures in the jungle. It was an unforgettable trip, educational, fun, exhausting, exhilarating, difficult at some points, but totally, totally worth it all.

Here's a link to my photos on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=273110&id=610351019&l=702ee172ce

Jungle Adventures Chapter 1: Who told the pastor I'm the visiting preacher??

2011-01-15T20:39:00.005-05:00

Ever since the end of last year, I'd been talking with Lisi and Meche, two of my good friends from church, about taking a trip into the jungle. That's the one part of Peru that I hadn't explored yet and I had an itching to go (I still have an itching....but now it's from mosquito bites!) Meche has a brother and a sister who both live in the jungle, in a town called Salvación, so we had contacts and somewhere to stay. We had a bit of confusion as to when we would leave. We were hoping to be able to hitch a ride into the jungle with Meche's brother, but he ended up leaving almost a week later than we wanted to leave, so we decided to take a bus in. 5:30 PM they said the bus left. So I got there around 5. I began to worry a bit when people began to say that we shouldn't take a lot of weight, that the roads were bad and that it wasn't safe. I'm used to traveling adventures in Peru, so I wasn't too surprised, but it was a little disconcerting. I met up with Meche's sister Doris and we began our trip. Meche and Lisi said they'd meet up with us in Huacarpay, since the bus was going right past there anyhow. We stopped in San Jeronimo (where I live) to eat supper. They said we'd have half an hour. We decided to go for chicken and fries (very typical). We were just eating our chicken when one of the other occupants of the bus, an acquaintance of Meche's sister, came in and was like "The bus is about to leave!" So we asked for bags for our chicken, got another order of chicken for Meche, and ran back to the bus, only to sit there and finish our chicken before the bus left. Hurry up and wait. We finally left Huacarpay around 7:00 and began our journey. By this time it was dark, so we weren't able to see much and we were tired, so we tried to sleep. We were awakened by our arrival in Paucartambo, the last main town we passed through and a popular tourist destination, where we took a pit stop around 11 PM. The rest of the night after that we were not able to sleep because the bus was lurching back and forth, bouncing and jouncing over potholes and sounding very much as if the screws holding it together were going to come unscrewed. At one point, they turned on the lights, said "Everybody off the bus" and we had to walk around this one big hole in the road. The bus went through minus passengers and we all got back on on the other side. Actually, the road was not too bad for our trips in and out. It could have been worse. We could have gotten stuck or rolled over or something like that. Both have been known to happen. But we made it, safe and sound, after having crossed a shallow river in the bus, at 6:30 Saturday morning. After a basically sleepless night, we were all tired, so we took a short nap in the morning and a longer one in the afternoon. We made lunch for ourselves and Meche's sister and brother-in-law. When we gathered for lunch, they had coconuts for all of us. Coconut milk is okay, not my favorite, but definitely drinkable. They say it's very good for you. That evening, refreshed by our napping, we helped to make bread to sell to the local stores. That is one source of income for Doris and Wilbert, Meche's sister and brother-in-law. It was fun to see how the bread is made, though we could tell we weren't professionals. Our bread turned out large, small, flat, puffy, heart-shaped, you name it. Wasn't too bad for our first time though. Sunday morning we got up and got ready to go to church. The church in Salvación is a small, cement-block structure with no windows, doors, or sound system. Doris said there are about 50 people in all who attend the church, though we only ever saw about 30 at a time. The service was fine, but the really funny part came after the service, when the pastor walked home with us. He looked at me and said "So, you're going to bring the word tonight?" I stared at him, rather stupefied. We had plans to go to a lake that afternoon, so I checked with the girls whether they thought we'd have time to go and come back. They did, so I told him I would. It was kind of hard to say no when I could tell he was expecting me to say yes, though I didn't particularly want to preach and felt a little strange that he had asked me specifically and not all three of us. We spent the afternoon at Machuwasi Lake, where we saw lots of beautiful jungle scenery and some birds as well. It was a fun afternoon. We got back home just in time to shower, change clothes, and head to church. There is no public street lighting in Salvación, so we went to church by flashlight. I preached on 2 Cor. 5:17-21, what I'd been studying in my own devotions. It went fine, though nothing super spectacular or anything. I don't think I'll quit my day job and become a pastor. Monday morning we decided that at the Wednesday service we wanted to try to teach the church some new songs, since they'd sung basically the same songs in the morning and evening services the day before. So we spent the morning thinking of songs we'd like to teach them and writing down the words. It was a long process, but fun. Then it was time to make bread again. After all that heat and work, we were ready for a swim. So we went down to the river - cool, clear, beautiful water rushing over smooth, colorful stones. Yeah, it was pretty beautiful. The river wasn't deep, so Meche got a creative idea. Why not put rocks on each other's backs like they do in a spa? I was first. Then Lisi put rocks on Meche's back. Then I got up and put rocks on Lisi's back. It WAS relaxing laying there in the water, cooling off, with little colored rocks on our backs. We stayed there until it was getting dark and cool and then went back to the house. I was glad for the chance to relax. Little did we know all the adventures we'd have in the next few days...

For more pictures, follow this link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=267051&id=610351019&l=cb87e7538f

Merry Christmas and Happy 2011!

2011-01-05T21:30:00.004-05:00

I guess you could say an unofficial (because I've never written it down or anything) New Year's resolution is to blog more. Hopefully it will help to have Internet all year this year... :)
So I guess that means I need to tell you what I've been up to! Well...
School ended with a bang. The last day of school was Wednesday, Dec. 15, followed the next day by an 18-hour workday making report cards (till 1:30 AM), followed the next day by the closing program of the school year, followed the next day by the first PROMESA sixth grade graduation. Needless to say, we were all QUITE ready for summer vacation, after all that! The next day was Sunday, and I got a new roommate. Her name is Mary and she's been a blessing and quite a lot of fun the last few weeks. The next week we were finishing up grades and final paperwork until Thursday. Thursday afternoon, we celebrated Christmas with Marga here at our house. Friday was Christmas Eve. Mary and I went to the annual Santurantikuy Christmas Eve market in the Plaza de Armas downtown that morning. Despite the drizzle and the huge crowds, it was quite enjoyable. That afternoon, we headed out to Huacarpay and "helped" (mainly just watched) cut up an entire lamb to make lamb soup for the service that evening. The service was fun. There was a short message and time of worship and then it was opened up for special numbers, which included a lot of dancing and singing and lasted till midnight. At midnight we ate the lamb soup (very yummy!) and gave everyone hugs, then went home to sleep. Christmas Day, we were in Huacarpay for the morning, waking up and eating breakfast. We got home around noon and got ready to go to the missionary Christmas dinner. That was delicious! Then, in the afternoon, I left to talk to my family and go to Marga's house for a bit. I felt very blessed and surrounded by many loved ones. The next week was filled with different social activities - birthdays, cookie making, game nights, etc. New Year's Eve, we headed back out to Huacarpay for the birthday of some friends' mom. Then we went to the church in San Jeronimo for a New Year's Eve service filled with all kinds of music and some really fast Quechua that I had a hard time keeping up with. And of course, food. Nothing in Peru is complete without food. That is literal. Rice, salad, chicken cordon bleu, some traditional desserts, and the oh-so-yummy and very traditional fruitcake and hot chocolate. We went to Marisol's house stuffed and spent New Year's Eve with Mari and her family and Norminda playing Uno. At midnight, we all went out to the street and watched the fireworks lighting up San Jeronimo like multi-colored fireflies in a field on a summer's night. After wishing everyone a happy new year and praying blessings over the year, we went back inside and watched the first part of Inception, till we got too tired. We finished in the morning, then went back home. The new year began on a delicious note (can you tell there is no shortage of food in my life here?) with a major grilling session with Rolando, Francisca and Christian (the owners of our house and their son), Mary, the Kreiders and I. Chicken, beef, kebabs, sausages, garlic bread and veggies, plus dessert, all on the grill....delicious!
Christmas Eve, as I looked around my church, I realized that these are my Christmas presents. These people, these relationships, these memories, my family worldwide - these are the blessings of Christmas, the blessings that I have been given in abundance.

On that note, I posted some pictures on facebook of my Christmas celebrations and a bit of the craziness. :) For those of you not on facebook, here is the link to the album. Enjoy and Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from me to you. Blessings!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=255426&id=610351019&l=b63b1161eb

Things I love about summer vacation!

2010-12-28T12:30:00.002-05:00

We are now officially done with the school year, after the closing program on December 17 and the first elementary school graduation ceremony on December 18. Report cards are done. Grades are handed in to the Dept. of Ed. Classrooms are cleaned out. Desks are washed. And I am not going to school every day anymore. So in celebration of summer vacation, here is a fun post highlighting some of the things I enjoy about summer vacation, not in any particular order of importance or anything.
1. Sleeping past 5 AM!
2. Good time to spend with God.
3. Time to be social without the pressure of schoolwork bearing down on me.
4. Watching movies and playing games with my roommate, Mary, just because we have time to do so.
5. Christmas!
6. Time to work on schoolwork that I want to get done for next year at my own pace (yes, I know....I'm impossible!)
7. Vacation....time to travel. I'm planning on going to the jungle.
8. Time to scrapbook....at least in theory, because I haven't gotten to that part yet.
9. I don't have to wear a suit twice a week!
10. Catching up on some emailing.
11. Laughing and destressing! I do this during the school year too, but it's more pronounced during summer vacation.
12. Seeing my kids randomly and them telling me that they miss school, 2 weeks after they were so excited for summer vacation! That cracks me up!
There's only one thing I don't enjoy....the water pipes for the area of Cusco where I live were installed years ago and the population has grown a lot since their installation. That means there is no longer enough water to go around and my water in the mornings is very on-again-off-again (case in point, I just washed my breakfast dishes 4 hours after using them). Oh well. It does make me feel more like the typical missionary!
Before I was a teacher, I saw a mug somewhere that said "There are three reasons to be a teacher: June, July and August". I couldn't understand it and thought it a little rude. If teachers were so dedicated and enjoyed so much what they did, why in the world would they be so excited for summer vacation?
I love my kids, but now.....I understand. :)

Huayllar

2010-12-17T20:14:00.002-05:00

For the last few months, I've been walking to Huayllar with some of the other youth and young adults from my church to have a kids' club with the children of this neighboring village. Many of the families in this village are involved in the roof tile-making industry. A number of the families are also involved in the church. However, most of the children who come to the kids' club are not from families involved in the church. They have shown a keen interest in the Bible and in the stories we have been telling them. My good friend Lisi is in charge of the group, but I've been helping her out lately with telling Bible stories. I continue to realize with doing this that I love to tell stories. It's great fun to dramatize the crossing of the Red Sea or the 10 plagues, for example (we just did a series on the life of Moses). We also usually have a time of playing games and sports (jump ropes, baseball, frisbees, soccer, volleyball, dodgeball, etc). It's a fun time and is starting to show some fruit in the lives of the children. There are several in particular who have shown a lot of interest and even some who come regularly to church. I enjoy being involved with this ministry and it has been a blessing for me. Here is a link to some pictures on facebook that I just posted of our times in Huayllar. Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=255415&id=610351019&l=998b03b595

Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room

2010-12-09T17:50:00.002-05:00

The other day in fourth grade was one of those "worth it all" days. It started out crappy. The kids were talking and they would not be quiet and pay attention. We always start out by saying the date, saying and singing the monthly memory verse and then choosing someone to choose a song for the whole class to sing. The entire time it was noisy and I felt like we weren't getting anywhere. It was Jafet's turn that day to choose a song and he, in the spirit of the season, wanted to learn a Christmas song. So I "randomly" chose Joy to the World, since it's pretty easy and fun to sing. We sang it through once, with the participation of about a fifth of the class. I got frustrated and told them to all sit and put their heads down on their desks. That apparently did the trick and, after a bit of down time and me talking to them, they were ready to work. So we sang Joy to the World again, this time with the participation of the whole class. Then we talked about what it meant. The line "Let every heart prepare him room" got special attention. We talked about how the innkeepers in the story of Jesus didn't have room in their inns for Jesus. I dramatized it. They had fun saying "No!" When I asked if there was room. Then we talked about how lots of people today don't have room in their hearts either, how some people just want to drink or work or study and they don't want to go to church or read the Bible and they don't care about God. We talked about how we all have a door in our hearts, a door that can be open or closed, a door at which Jesus knocks and asks if he can come in. I asked them if they wanted to be like the innkeepers and say there was no room. I also said that Jesus won't just open the door and say "Ahem! Attention please! I am now going to live here in your heart, like it or not!" We have to open the door for Jesus. And we talked about how Jesus knocks on the door of our hearts and says to each one of us, "May I come in to your heart?" I ended the day by praying with them if anyone wanted to open the door of their heart to Jesus and talking about how when Jesus is in your heart, He tells you what is right and wrong, what is true and not true and how to live and He tells you that God loves you. As they scampered out to recess afterwards, I was talking with some of them and had the distinct feeling of "Wow, this is worth it!" It was exciting and I thought that was the end of it.
The next day they wanted to sing the same song again. They really liked it. After we sang it and were all sitting down again, Sebas had a question. "Profe", he asked, "how do you know when Jesus is talking to you?" That's not something I'm always completely confident about either, but I gave it my best shot. "Well," I said, "sometimes when you're in Bible class, did you ever think 'Wow, I think what the teacher is saying is true' or 'That makes sense'? That's God talking to your heart right then. And sometimes when you're reading the Bible and you think 'Wow, if God could help them, He can help me too', that's God talking to you. And even sometimes when you have peace in your heart, that is God giving you that peace." Then we got into a discussion of peace and I shared with them the saying "Know Jesus, know peace; no Jesus, no peace". It was fun because they were able to understand the humor in it, even though it was in English! And then I shared with them a riddle that my friend once shared with me: "What's greater than God, more evil than Satan, poor men have it, rich men need it and if you eat it you die?" (nothing) They got that too. So we ended up talking about God things for the better part of two classes and mixing that with English and they were having fun and learning about God and learning English at the same time! Yes!!!!! It gave me an idea for a permanent English bulletin board in the hallway for next year, to try to get the students playing with and interested in English by putting games, puzzles, etc there. But more than that, it was encouraging just seeing how God took that crappy day and turned it into a great day and a very fun day and a day that, I trust, will plant seeds in the hearts of my students. Praise God for those "worth it all" days!

9 more days!

2010-12-01T21:18:00.002-05:00

We are counting down the days till the end of the school year at PROMESA. As of the end of school today, that makes 9 more days. Please pray for a strong end to the school year and for renewed energy for the last few days.
A special prayer request is for fifth grade. Lately their attitudes have been very bad and they have not been respecting their teachers, particularly me. I'm not quite sure what has gone wrong, but it is extremely difficult to have class in that classroom right now. Today I talked to them about things for the entire 90 minute class. And I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. So I am quite frustrated with them right now and yet really wanting the last few days of school to be good ones and positive ones, for all my classes but especially that class. But I feel a bit hopeless. And I feel completely unmotivated to do anything in or for that class. Please pray that I can show them God's love even when I'm very frustrated.
On a positive note, I had a very good day with fourth grade, mostly. Started out rough, but then the end was pretty amazing. We learned the song "Joy to the World" and talked about preparing room in our hearts for Jesus. They were very interested and we prayed at the end of class if there was anyone who wanted to open their heart to Jesus. So that was the high point of the day.
I continue to need God's grace for each day. Please pray for the end of the school year. Thanks!

Project Read More English!

2010-11-22T18:57:00.006-05:00

Does this image look familiar?
Have you ever looked at a stack of magazines like this and thought there was no hope for them?
Well......think again! Why not send all those dust-collecting magazines to Peru?
I have recently discovered that my students really enjoy reading kids' magazines. The difficulty I've found is that while my students' interest level is that of a normal 4th-6th grader, their reading level is much lower, since English is their second language. Therefore, it's difficult to keep their attention with traditional books in the classroom (Note: I am talking in this sense of free reading books that they can read in their spare time, when they get done early with something, in reading groups, etc. I do use books in my class as well!) While they are ready in thought to tackle a Chronicles of Narnia-sized book, they can feasibly independently read a simple chapter book. This creates a bit of a difficulty. And this is where magazines come in. They're not the answer for everything, but they are cool, appropriate for my students' age level and formatted in bite-sized chunks that are not so overwhelming to read as a thick novel. And yet they're still reading, which is what I want them to do...
So that's where you come in. I'm posting this to ask for any back issues of magazines (particularly kids' magazines) you want to get rid of. Magazines geared to adults are nice to cut up for pictures and things, but for reading purposes, kids' magazines are much more attractive to and easy for them. Possible titles could be (though NOT by any means limited to these): Highlights, Club House, Zoobooks, Kids Discover, National Geographic Kids, Ranger Rick, Weekly Reader, Spider, Cricket, etc.....
If you have any magazines you would like to donate to the cause, please contact Angela Kline or I (see email addresses below). Thanks so much and blessings to you all!
Bethany

kline_angela@yahoo.com
betania129@yahoo.com

Conquerors in Jesus Forever - Promotion 2010

2010-11-21T21:28:00.000-05:00

I got to school about half an hour before the bus was to leave on Monday evening. A smattering of students were already there. Took care of some last minute details for Wendy (the other teacher) and I. Kids trickled in slowly, bouncing up to the office, about as excited as you've ever seen kids be. Andre was a human jumping, yelling bean. I felt as tight as a fiddle string myself, not sure how all this would go. After we gave them their class jackets and had a time of prayer with all the nervous parents, we boarded the bus - 18 students and 5 adults (2 teachers, 3 parents). I felt the presence of God as we prayed. We set off for Ollantaytambo (about 2 hours away) where we would board the train for Machu Picchu. We were not even out of Cusco before we heard the first "How long till we get there?" Nor were we out of Cusco before the first student began complaining of motion sickness. Between checking on carsick kids and getting everyone settled and comfortable, I began to feel like a flight attendant. Can you put this CD in the CD player so we can all listen to it? Miss Bethany, I feel sick! Can you help me get my backpack down from the overhead rack? Can you help me get this blanket situated? My stomach hurts! I need to go to the bathroom. They finally all settled down. The first "I think this will all be okay" moment came when Sara and Clara suggested that the whole bus sing a song together instead of singing two or three songs in little groups. They began singing "I Could Sing of Your Love Forever". It didn't catch on, but I enjoyed it. We finally got to Ollantaytambo around 10:30 and got everyone's luggage sorted out. Weighed down with said luggage, we waddled to the train station, boarded the train, and then had to get luggage situated again, this time on the train. It was Magna's birthday that day, so when the train began moving, we sang happy birthday. A high school class behind us in the train compartment was also going on promotion and they pitched in with the happy birthday singing also. They were being normal, hormone-infused high-schoolers, so we broke out the dice and soon had people distracted and entertained with games of Farkle and Yahtzee. Between farkling, yahtzeeing and sleeping, we arrived uneventfully in Machu Picchu around 1 AM. We then proceeded to the church which would be our lodging for the night, struggling under heavy bundles of luggage. Till we got everyone settled in and the lights turned off, it was more like 2:15. I found it difficult to sleep for some reason and lay on the floor listening to the chorus of heavy breathing around me for what seemed like most of the night. Right after I heard the first rooster crow, all the kids started waking up and soon my sleeping bag nest on the floor was surrounded by a hive of barely suppressed activity. Who programmed all 20 of their internal alarm clocks to go off at 5:00 AM, I had to wonder. As soon as I got up the kids started asking "Can you help me roll up my sleeping bag?" I had to remember all the times I asked my parents the same thing as a child and smiled to myself as I thought about how the shoe was now on the other foot. Gradually all the sleeping bags turned into neat little sacks and pajamas were traded for clean clothes. Around 7:00 they couldn't wait any longer. The church had turned into a confining prison for 18 rearin'-to-go sixth graders. We decided to go on a walk and out they poured through the open doors. We went to the plaza and enjoyed taking pictures there and playing with the local dogs while we waited for breakfast to be readied. After breakfast, we went up to the ruins of Machu Picchu. Waiting at the train station, playing "I Spy" (in English!) and hearing Andre call out to the tourists "You need to have a good time in Peru", I began to feel as though I have been successful as an English teacher. :) Sometimes it's the little things.

Machu Picchu is honestly a blur. Between the late night and fitful sleep of the night before and the hot sun of the new day, my brain did not retain much. We trekked all over the ruins of the city, seeing the agricultural district, the various temples and mystical rocks, and the residential area. It was, however, an interesting tour, despite my out-of-it-ness. The kids got tired pretty quickly, for the same reasons I did, and were quite ready to head back to town for lunch when the tour was over. In the afternoon we got everyone installed in a cheap hostel in the town and gave them time to rest and shower before we went to the hot springs and then supper in the evening. Somehow, they all found enough energy to annoy the other occupants of the hot springs with their splashing and noise, trying to figure out the art of floating and swimming in the water and just in general having fun playing. I think everyone was ready to see our troupe leave. Back at the hotel after supper and a round of eye drops (you would have thought we were torturing the poor kids!), we bandaged up the battle scars from the rough stone bottoms of the hot spring pools, had a short devotional and fell into bed exhausted.

Wednesday morning dawned with a general power outage in the town. I feared my watch had gone crazy when I peered at it through sleep-dazed eyes at 7:00 in the morning. 9 hours of dead to the world sleep felt excellent! So did the nice hot shower. We hurried through breakfast, then grabbed our luggage and lugged it again to the train station to leave for Ollantaytambo. The train ride was long for the kids, about 3 hours, punctuated with several stops, Leo's severe motion sickness, and jumping from one game to another. I, as the only one who knew most of the games, spent my train ride jumping from Yahtzee to Racko to Phase 10 as a stream of interested kids came to see what games I had brought in my bag. Dice are extremely handy for playing games in cars and lively games of Farkle and Mennonite Madness also ensued. Once at Ollantaytambo, we again loaded ourselves with our luggage and made our way to the bus that would take us to Pisac. I spent the trip from Ollantaytambo to Pisac squeezing the wrists of poor Leo, who never got a chance to recover between the bout of motion sickness on the train before we got on the bus. Thankfully, I remembered a trick my mom had taught me as a child, that putting pressure on your wrists, for whatever reason, helps. Unfortunately, he ended up throwing up, right as he was getting off the bus. Fortunately, he did it in a bag and the clean up was easy. We stowed our luggage in the Royal Inka Hotel in Pisac quickly and went to find some lunch. After lunch, we walked back to the hotel, and some of the boys almost gave me a heart attack when I saw them walking carefree in the MIDDLE of the road, right around a CURVE! That did not go without its respective talking-to afterwards. After getting everyone situated in their rooms, they all wanted to go to the pool, so we decided to let them do so for a little while. Wendy and I sent them with the parents, while we worked frantically to figure out the best way to set up a projector to show a movie in our bedroom. A bedsheet, a few curtain hangers, Ada Sol's speakers and an extension cord borrowed from the hotel later, we were almost ready when the kids started coming to our room. Partway through the movie, the battery-powered speakers died and Mr. Steve, Micah's dad and the resident adult male on the trip, made several trips to the reception desk to borrow speakers that would work with my laptop. We finished 2/3 of the movie before supper, which turned out, for me, to be one of those magical moments.

It's difficult to be inconspicuous when you're a group of 21, 17 of which are students (a mother and son stayed behind in Machu Picchu for business reasons). It's especially difficult to be inconspicuous when you take 17 sixth-grade students to the nice restaurant in the hotel for supper. We were joined in the adjoining dining room of the restaurant by a group of kind adults from various countries (I think I heard Pakistan, the Philippines, and Ethiopia). One older gentleman in particular took an interest in our students and was talking with them in English (short phrases, but English nonetheless), which in this case was a common bridge language for both parties. I again felt highly satisfied when my kids could enjoy talking with them in English and found a good and intriguing reason to speak the English they know. That was the beginning of the magic for me. I had to hold down a laugh when Sara and Crhisnna returned to the table after getting hot water for tea and announced wide-eyed "Nos dijeron que somos beautiful!" (they said we're beautiful!) Their next question was "How do you say in English 'De que pais son?'" (what country are you from?) That's not a question they use every day, but they know the elements. They figured out how to say "Where are you from?" and then went back to the group of adults. They chickened out, but Mr. Steve took advantage of the moment and helped them begin a conversation with the international gathering. A guitar had been brought out as we ate and slipped glances over their way, and when one of the Ethiopian men began dancing while our kids were over talking with them, inhibitions dropped. Pretty soon, Crhisnna and Sara were dancing with the Ethiopian man. And then a beautiful Asian dance of some kind was begun and we all watched in wonder as we saw culture and language barriers be torn down right then and there. People from 5 of the 6 inhabited continents (one of our students is half English) standing in the same room, speaking to each other in the same bridge language and enjoying the same music and dance....that for me was a magical moment.

We then went back from supper and finished The Princess Bride, which the kids, much to their own amazement, enjoyed. The evening then was a flurry of putting drops in eyes again (half of the boys were amazingly cowardly before a tiny bottle of eye drops...it made me laugh), re-bandaging wounds, devotionals with the boys and girls separate, and trying to get everyone in their rooms and settled down. It was midnight till that goal was reached. Clara was told that she could NOT under any circumstances call Ronaldo's room and Clara and Ada Sol were also told that they could most definitely NOT have a slumber party and stay up till all hours of the night doing who knows what. I again had a fitful night of sleep, for whatever reason.

Thursday morning dawned bright and clear. We rested in bed till about 7, then got up and got ready for breakfast. After breakfast and getting luggage ready to take back to Cusco, everyone wanted to swim, so we all trooped over to the pool. I was teaching Magna and Mishell how to swim and we were all playing around in the water, when we noticed that Sara and Crhisnna were out in about 6 1/2 feet of water, had gotten tired, and were clinging to each other, desperately trying to stay afloat, panicking and pushing each other under the water worse. I swam out to them and they, in their panic to get to a safe place, were pushing me under the water further and making me panic. I can swim, but I am not a lifeguard and don't know how to do water rescue. After what seemed like an eternity, I surfaced and saw that Mr. Steve had gotten them to the shallow end and they were okay. It was a traumatizing event for all three of us and I thank God that He knew all along what would happen and provided someone who could help in the situation. I'm not sure what I would have done by myself. It would have been a bit more time until serious damage would have happened, but we were very shaken by the whole experience! We played a bit more in the water, then went back to the hotel to shower and get everything packed up and ready to leave. After another round of bandaging things up and putting drops in eyes, the bus came an hour early and we had to get everyone rounded up, luggage moved to the bus, pictures taken. Then came lunch, the last rush to the bathroom and we were all on the bus heading back to Cusco. When we arrived at the school, we were met with the welcome of returning heroes. Parents and teachers alike awaited us at the door, clapping, smiling, hugging, reuniting. It was good to see everyone again, see that my sub had survived, and especially to know that the whole stress of being responsible for the well-being of 17 students was no longer in my hands. Coming home to my house after the last student was picked up was anti-climactic. I realized it's kind of depressing coming home to an empty house as a single person. I was greeted by a wilting plant, some old bananas and a house that hadn't moved a muscle since I left almost 3 days beforehand. And yet it's good to be home. It was fun to see my students outside a classroom. It was good to know that I have Jesus' help to do all that I need to do. And it was interesting to get out of the normal routine of life and have a change of scenery. But I'm glad to be back. I'm glad that I am not the mother of 17 sixth-graders constantly. And I am ready for SLEEP! Thank you God for a good trip and help it to be a good memory and a good class-builder for years to come. Thus ends the chronicle of the first promotion trip of PROMESA.

Thank you!

2010-10-11T22:35:00.003-04:00

I just wanted to say thank you all so much for your support in many various ways that you have been showing me during the time I have been here in Peru. In particular thank you for your support at the chicken barbecue this past weekend and at the prayer event last month. It is a true blessing to know that I am being upheld in so many ways as I serve here and that I have the prayers, confidence and love of a large "cloud of witnesses" around me. So thank you!!!!!
I am currently in the process of getting together another newsletter to be sent out ASAP. If you are interested in receiving my newsletters and are currently not receiving them, please send an email to either Angela Kline (my newsletter coordinator on my support team) or I. Both of our email addresses are below. If you prefer a hard copy, we can print one off for you as well. Just let us know. Thank you so much for your support and may God bless you abundantly.

kline_angela@yahoo.com
betania129@yahoo.com

Update on Huacarpay

2010-07-29T21:06:00.002-04:00

It seems that God is answering prayers as far as Huacarpay is concerned.
After the flooding in Huacarpay in January, the government had promised land and houses to the residents of Huacarpay. They were very happy, until they learned that the government planned on taking away the land that they did have already. Huacarpay is a good location for the plaster business in which much of the town is employed. Plus, many of the people have significant plots of land in the town and that would be a major loss for them economically.
However, just in the past few days, I learned from my friend Juana, whose family lost their house in the flood, that the government has now retracted that statement and are planning on allowing those of the townspeople who would like to stay in their houses, to do so. This is a big answer to prayer. I am just continuing to hope and pray that the government doesn't go back on their promise and their word again. Praise God for this development!
A continued prayer request would be people's economy, which has been seriously affected by this flood and the aftermath. Families have lost crops and possessions and now are just beginning to work on rebuilding their houses with better materials which cost money. Others have lost businesses and sources of income. It is a difficult time for many families. Please continue to pray for God's provision for them during this time.
Thank you for your prayers!

The adventures of getting to church

2010-07-18T19:15:00.002-04:00

Getting to church in the States is not a big deal. You leave your house, hop in your car, and appear minutes later at the door of your church, ready to walk in and worship. It's not quite the same for me here in Peru...Maybe you should just come along with me and you'll see what I mean. Ready? Let's go!
It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I'm standing outside my front door. One hand grabs my violin and over the opposite shoulder, I carry a small tote bag containing all the stuff I'll need to stay overnight and go to church the next day. I usually stay overnight in Huacarpay because often there's something going on on Saturday night and it's just easier (and more practical) for me to stay overnight with my pastor's family than go out, come home and go out again. So here we are outside my house on a Saturday afternoon, waiting for the bus that will take us to Huacarpay. This bus goes on an approximately hour-and-a-half long route between Cusco and Urcos, another city located about half an hour past Huacarpay. Thankfully, because of where I live now, the bus is usually about as full as it's going to get when I get on, so I can stand pretty close to the door. So we stand outside and wait for about 10 minutes till the bus comes. Oh wait, there it is! We stick our hands out and wave them determinedly to let them know we seriously want them to stop. They saw us and they're stopping. It's always easier to get them to stop when, like today, they're not coming behind a line of combis and taxis and they know it's them we're signaling to.
We get on and, as usual, there are no seats. The bus is made to hold about 35 people, but it's holding approximately 45 now. We're not shoved smack up against anyone else, but it's a little full. Are you still okay? The upside to the full bus is that you won't get cold! We climb up the stairs and find a space to grab hold of the handrail attached to the bus roof. The bus is already going again and if we don't hold on, we'll probably lose our balance. Once we get out of the city on to the long, straight road, the bus likes to pass any other vehicles it can. Many times, the driver will start passing someone and then see another car coming toward him so he brakes to get back in his place. Or he passes one car but doesn't have time to pass two, so he brakes to slip into the space in front of the car he just passed. If he brakes hard, we really have to grab on tight to keep from falling as the person behind us tries to keep falling on us. It becomes a giant domino effect pretty quickly. My violin is on the floor in front of me, standing up. It is at these moments when I am glad for two things. First of all, my violin case is HARD. So I don't have to worry about it getting squished. Second of all, I can't smell. I can't imagine that these buses smell very appealing, but, since I can't smell, it doesn't bother me! There are some advantages to this defect. :)
So now we're in for about a 20-minute ride. If your arm gets tired from holding on to the handrail, switch hands. There's not much to do. Just look out the window at the beautiful mountain scenery or try to make some random baby in front of you smile (that's fun!). On the other hand, if there is a spoiled rotten kid in front of you, that makes the trip not so fun. It's also fun to watch people sleeping on the bus. Lots of people take advantage of the long trip to catch a little shut-eye. We pass Peaje, where several of my friends live, the old abandoned hacienda, and, at long last, bump over the railroad tracks into Saylla. Saylla is known for its chicharrones. Chicharrones are pork that is first boiled, then fried to a slight crisp. Not exactly the healthiest food known to man, but yummy nonetheless. Chicharron restaurants line the road on both sides. Sometimes, you can see big swaths of pig fat hanging up to dry on clotheslines, in order to be turned into tocto, fried pork rinds. We pass Saylla and head on toward Tipon. In between, however, the bus turns into the gas station along the side of the road. The driver and the fare collector jump out and, leaving the engine RUNNING with 45 people inside, fill up the tank (this doesn't always happen, but it is always a bit disconcerting for me when it does and I'm always glad when it's done and we're safely on our way again). Tipon is known for its guinea pig (cuy) and, lining both sides of the road are restaurants with big round adobe ovens in which the cuy is baked. Here, more people want to get on the bus, so the door is opened and we all shove a little farther back so they can get on. We're now about a third of the way back the bus and I begin to wonder what it's going to be like to get off. 7 more passengers were added in Tipon and we're on our way again. The fare collector begins his collecting, squeezing his way past women in big skirts and hats, people's bundles, men with backpacks, kids, and me with my violin. The fare for this trip for us is 1 sol, approximately $.28. For those going the entire route it's 2 soles. He somehow makes his way back to the back of the bus by the time we get to Oropesa. And then someone else wants to get on. And someone else wants to buy the chuta bread that Oropesa is famous for. So they lean out the window and one of the vendors lined up along the street by the bus stop hurries to hand them a bag. Since the fare collector is at the back of the bus now and his route to the door is blocked by 15 people standing in the aisle, he asks the person nearest the door to open the door so the new passenger can get on. This completed, we all shove a little farther back in the bus. The next town is Huacarpay, coming up in about 3 minutes. The fare collector comes back through and then we begin our journey to the front of the bus. It involves a lot of "Excuse mes" and "I'm sorrys", squeezing between people and trying not to step on anyone's toes with either our feet or my violin. In the meantime, the fare collector calls out "Huacarpay!", to which we respond "Baja" (getting off). At last, the mountains level off to a small plain and the brown adobe village of Huacarpay gets closer and closer. We're behind someone else now who also is planning on getting off in Huacarpay. The bus stops, the door opens, two people get off the bus so those getting off in Huacarpay can get off, we squeeze past more people and then we're free! We've made it!
Thanks for coming along with me as I headed out to Huacarpay. I hope you enjoyed the trip. I do (about 90% of the time). Now it's time for youth group or kids club in Huayllar, another nearby town, or worship team practice. Ready?

My Blanky and Me

2010-07-04T21:13:00.006-04:00

In Peru, one very common way to carry things is in a blanket on one's back. This can include anything from children to food to....well, pretty much, you name it and it's carried this way. The Quechua word for this blanket is q'eperina, which literally means "a thing for carrying stuff on your back". (I can't take credit for this picture, unfortunately. I found it on the Internet.) You must keep in mind that this is a very traditional Andean way of doing things. It is not generally used by anyone except traditional Andean people. So when I asked for a q'eperina for Christmas the other year, I knew I'd get some strange looks when I used it. And I have. I've gotten the whole gamut of reactions, from people laughing outright to others saying that I look beautiful to people remarking to other people on the bus about the gringa with her q'eperina to the beginning of conversations to people just looking at me funny. It can be rather uncomfortable, so I don't make a daily habit out of making a spectacle of myself in this manner. I have, however, done it a number of times now. I've also realized that there are some distinct advantages to carrying things in this manner. The most exciting one is that it keeps your upper arms warm. Since this is the first part of my body that usually gets cold, it's perfect for me. :) It's also easier to carry things on your back than in your arms and you can carry a whole lot (like an entire wheelbarrow full of grass....yup, been there done that) or carry stuff that melts (like ice) without it melting all over the place (been there done that too). Furthermore, it's safer. I've never heard of q'eperina slashing or of q'eperina pickpocketing, but purses are another story. Yeah, it's a handy thing. So here are some funny stories from some of my q'eperina adventures, just to lighten your day a bit.

Bolivia, January 2009
Okay, so I'm in the middle of nowhere between Cochabamba and Santa Cruz, Bolivia with my friend Mari, going to visit her brother. And there's this big landslide and the road is blocked. So we have to walk for about two hours with all our stuff to get to the other side of the landslide and continue our journey in bus. She's got wheels on her suitcase, but I am not that technologically advanced. I have a full backpack and a duffel bag. So she suggests that we wrap everything up in my fleece blanket and put it on my back. This sounds like an excellent idea to me (keeping in mind that it's easier to carry things on one's back than in one's arms). So we stop right in front of a group of people from the country who were laughing at us throughout this entire process because neither of us know what we're doing. We arrange things about 3 times in the blanket till we finally get it right. So finally we get it and between the two of us, we heave the bundle onto my back. I'm really excited about it at this point. I tie it around my shoulders and we begin to walk. I quickly realize that fleece is stretchier than I ever realized. The blanket starts stretching and streeeeetching and streeeeeeeeeeeeeetching and soon I am doubled over walking and the bundle is wanting to shift down to about my knees (this is no longer the genius idea it once seemed). After about 50 feet of this, I turn to my friend and we mutually decide to go back to square one and keep walking like we were before. It gave us a good laugh though.

Joint worship service, November 2009
A little-known advantage of a q'eperina is that if you have food in it, it's like a ready-made picnic. Open the blanket and spread it on the ground, put the food on top of it, and voila! So for the joint worship service with all the Mennonite churches, I brought lunch in my q'eperina. (It also is handy for keeping things warm). I had my backpack with some things in it, as well. After the service, as I was getting ready to go, it began to rain. Juggling an umbrella, a backpack, a q'eperina and someone's left-behind big blanket was not working and the idea of a 20-minute trek like this was not so promising. So I put my backpack on, put the q'eperina around my shoulders on top of the backpack, put up my umbrella, and lugged the blanket in my arms. It looked rather ridiculous and made my roommate and I laugh, but it worked!

Huancaro Fair, June 2010
Every year in Cusco, there is a big fair called the Huancaro Fair. It's a lot like the small-town ag fairs in PA, just bigger and with different kinds of food and animals (you never saw a guinea pig farm with a stand at the Lampeter Fair, did you?) Becca (one of the other English teachers) and I went with our friend Pilar, one of the teachers at school on Cusco Day, June 24, since we had off school. (The picture is of Pilar and I). I took my q'eperina folded up in my purse, mainly for sitting purposes. Then Pilar decided she wanted to buy oranges and a papaya. We were lugging them around in plastic grocery bags for a while before it occurred to me that I was in possession of an easier way to carry these things. So we found a space, spread the q'eperina out and put everything in it. I then put it on my back and we continued enjoying the fair. I was nice and toasty and carrying the fruit and all our stuff was easier, so, aside from some funny looks, it was great! Then Pilar and Becca needed to go to the bathroom. I had soap with me, but of course it was in the q'eperina. So I took it off, gave them the soap and then had to re-form the bundle and put it back on my back. I put everything in the middle, wrapped the q'eperina around it, grabbed the two free corners and swung it onto my back, just like I've seen Andean ladies do hundreds of times. Unfortunately, I am not an Andean lady and I don't have the skill that they do. For whatever unknown reason, the papaya, the bag of oranges, my purse and the water bottle from my q'eperina all fell out in quick succession on the ground. Several women walking by saw and started laughing as I assessed the situation with "Well, that didn't work!" They kept going, then came back and said, "No, señorita, that's not how you do it. Here, let me help you." So one of them put all the stuff in a pile in the middle of the blanket, knotted two of the corners, then said, "Now you can put it on". So I did and it worked. I was laughing to myself at the ridiculousness of the situation and shared the laughter with Becca and Pilar when I told them what had happened. We then left the fair to go home and, waiting to cross the street, stood right beside a police officer. He looked over at me, grinned and said "How's your baby?" (since a lot of times people carry babies in this fashion. Playing right along, I grinned back and said "Fine". We all had a good laugh; then we crossed the street and got on a bus that would take us home. There was no room on the bus so we had to stand and we were standing for about 45 minutes during the drive home. I couldn't sit down to open the bundle and give Pilar her fruit when she had to get off, so I pulled it around my body so it was in front and she pulled her stuff out. Then I put it under my arm so it was crossing my body and stayed with it like that till I got home. At one point, nearing home, someone vacated a seat and a man standing near me said "Señorita, sit down". I don't mind standing on buses, but I didn't argue. As I sat down, he looked over at me shoving my water bottle farther into my bundle and said, "Oh, I thought that was a baby!" I laughed at that one. (Nursing babies here is not a private ordeal. You're on a bus and your baby's screaming because it's hungry. So you turn your q'eperina around and start nursing your baby, no covering required. My q'eperina was in perfect nursing position and, looking at it later, it really did look like a baby.)

So those are my most memorable q'eperina stories. It's always an adventure trying to mix cultures and never more than when I'm carrying stuff on my back. They laugh at me, but I think they like it. So I'll keep having adventures with my q'eperina and let them laugh.

Dear Cusco

2010-06-03T19:19:00.001-04:00

These are my thoughts today, the day of the traditional Corpus Christi festival celebrated annually in Cusco. (This reflects the culture of the Catholic church here, not worldwide, just to clarify). It reflects what often happens here in the religious culture of this area.

You say there is no slavery
But you are still enslaved,
Slaves of cruel, unfeeling masters -
Powerful to oppress
But powerless to help.
You say you are free,
That what you have is yours.
Yet they take what is yours -
Yours and your children's -
And blow it up in smoky fireworks.
They take what should clothe your children
And use it to confect glorious robes
For a body that feels no cold.
They take what should fill your stomach
And spend it on musicians, dances and costumes.
They take your children's future
And turn it into elaborate bannerettes
Proclaiming your merit
Both now and at your death.
They strip you, leave you cold and bare
And never hear a single prayer.
They turn your men into violent drunks;
Your women and children
Become the abused.
They wear many disguises
All over the world -
Ancestors, entertainers, gods of rain and war -
But here they are called saints.
You say there is no slavery,
But you are still enslaved.

I am back in cyberspace!

2010-04-18T21:42:00.004-04:00

Hi everyone!
Thanks for your patience with my Internet situation. As of yesterday evening, I have Internet again at my house! I am putting some pictures on Facebook, but for those of you who are not my friends on Facebook, but do follow my blog, here is the link to access the album of pictures of my new apartment. I will continue to put up more links to more albums as I create them. Blessings and enjoy the pictures!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=173355&l=5a3645c932&id=610351019

Here is another link to an album of pictures of the aftermath of the flood in Huacarpay:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=173376&id=610351019&l=6685181572

One more link to pictures of my birthday celebration:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=175323&id=610351019&l=546889365a

Quick update on Huacarpay

2010-03-02T20:14:00.002-05:00

Hi everyone!
I´m sorry my Internet communication has been so sporadic the last few weeks. I currently am without Internet at my house and have had no time to go to an Internet cafe either. So I´m relegated to the spare minutes I have at school. :)
The last few weeks I haven´t been out in Huacarpay nearly as much as before. I´ve basically just been going on Sundays for church and sometimes the afternoon. The rest of the week I have been working on school stuff. We began our school year yesterday (March 1) and there was a ton of prep work this year. I decided to do some of those projects that you only have to do once and then they´re done for a long time, but they just need doing that once. That took up a lot of time, plus planning and such. But now that´s all done and it´s much more calm. The beginning of the school year has gone smoothly thus far, but our attendance has been a mess because of the flooding and kids not being able to get to school yet, etc.
Ah yes, the flooding. Please keep praying. For about a month after the initial flooding, everything was fairly calm. But within the last 2 weeks, Huacarpay has flooded at least 4 or 5 times again. Thankfully, almost everyone is living on the hill above Huacarpay and has been safe, but a number of the houses that didn´t fall the first time are falling down now. Pastor Celestino and his family are living in their house in the town and trying to keep the water out with a retention wall that now consists of dirt, rocks and sandbags. Unfortunately, their house did flood again the other day a little bit and the cleaning we´d done had to be redone. I´m not sure how safe it is for them to be living there, but it is not visibly cracked or falling down at this point.
So what does ministry look like in the midst of all this? Unfortunately, because I´ve been so busy with school, I haven´t been able to be out there a lot lately, but I´m still trying to support everyone as best I can. Ministry in that sense looks like having an open house so people can come and stay overnight, use my computer, take a shower, eat, etc. But I´m also discovering that ministry is not always doing. It´s probably more often just being. For instance, I went out this afternoon for about 2 hours. I ¨did¨ absolutely nothing, but I think just the fact that people are out there and supporting with their presence is encouraging.
People are discouraged and fighting depression because they get no breaks from the situation. They are in it all the time and the water just keeps flooding in. Living in close quarters causes short tempers and the whole situation stresses people out. But they are doing as well as they can. Different schools start within the next week or two and kids are going to school again. They are trying to keep going in the midst of a difficult situation. Please continue praying for relationships and for unity in the church. That is something that is on my heart a lot. Please also continue praying for support to come and for the government to do something to help keep the river from flooding. People need encouragement and strength to keep going. Please also pray that the church can be a good witness to those around them during this time and that people would see Jesus in us and come to know Him. Those are some of the things on my heart in this situation.
So there´s a bit of an update on where I´m at and what´s going on down here. Blessings to all of you and thanks for your prayers!

Update on the Flooding in Huacarpay

2010-02-02T08:53:00.001-05:00

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

2009-12-28T22:15:00.008-05:00

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

2009-10-19T20:15:00.005-04:00

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

2009-10-15T19:36:00.004-04:00

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

2009-10-01T20:13:00.002-04:00

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

2009-09-12T12:22:00.003-04:00

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

2009-08-12T22:43:00.002-04:00

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

2009-07-13T22:22:00.005-04:00

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

2009-06-27T22:25:00.003-04:00

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

2009-05-20T20:12:00.003-04:00

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.

Thou shalt have no other gods...

2009-05-11T22:28:00.003-04:00

Recently, there have been two instances when I have been made keenly aware again of the idolatry that runs rampant here in Cusco. Thanks to the influences of both Incan Native American beliefs and Catholicism, religion in Cusco is a nice syncretistic thing involving, among other things, witch doctors, reading coca leaves, adoration of saints, and making burnt offerings to the Mother Earth. At this time of the year, there are two festivals: Holy Week and the Velada de la Cruz. Holy Week begins in Cusco with the procession of the patron saint of Cusco, Señor de los Temblores (Lord of the Earthquakes). I'm a little unclear on the exact beginnings of this particular image, but it was somehow involved in supposedly stopping an earthquake or it wasn't damaged in said earthquake or something. So now it is revered as the patron saint of Cusco. Its home is in the cathedral of Cusco, where it resides for about 363 days of the year. The Monday of Holy Week (the week before Easter), it comes out and gets paraded around the city. It ends up back at the Plaza de Armas (the main plaza of the city where the cathedral is located. The last 500 yards of its journey are surely the most difficult. The plaza is packed with thousands of people wanting to touch the statue and receive blessings from it. Many eager hands clamor to touch it and the path of those carrying it is strewn with flower petals. After crawling its way through the crowd, it is then returned to its home in the cathedral, behind golden doors, on top of an altar adorned by flowers, flanked by Mary and Joseph on either side. Recently, I had the opportunity to go into the cathedral for a concert. I took a picture of the Señor de los Temblores, to share on here at an opportune moment. Looking at the Señor de los Temblores, the verse in the Bible that talks about being able to freely approach the throne of grace came to mind. Here is the patron saint of Cusco, locked up in a church building behind a grated, golden door, at the top of a massive altar, so far away no one can possibly touch it. Even taking a picture of it is not necessarily permitted (shhh....don't tell anyone!). In front of the golden doors that form one wall of the home for this saint are candles ready to be lit as part of petitions. There are also wooden boxes to collect alms for the Señor de los Temblores. In the middle of the aisle along which he rests is a kneeling bench for people to come and pray to the Señor de los Temblores about whatever they want. The night I was at the cathedral, there were a surprisingly large number of people who utilized this bench. It all is very sad to me. During Easter week at school, I was talking with my kids about Easter. In third grade, we got to talking about the Señor de los Temblores. I asked my kids "Does he have ears?" No. "Does he have eyes?" No. "Does he have a brain?" No. "Does he have a heart and lungs?" No. "Do you think he can really hear you?" No. I found it interesting, standing there observing during the concert, watching people kneel before the image to pray, that children get what adults do not. Good Friday in Cusco is actually, in some ways, more celebrated than Sunday itself. People go to mass and the faces of the saints are covered. Supposedly, since Jesus is now dead, the saints are as well and people can basically do what they want. In Lucre, a village close to my church in Huacarpay, where the Mennonite church also has a building and where about 15 of our students at PROMESA come from, there is a procession of priests carrying saints to various places and then returning them to the church again. The whole week is full of idolatry and many excuses for drunkenness (as if any were needed).
Last week, I went out for my weekly pilgrimage to Huacarpay. When I arrived, I was informed that I had come in the middle of Velada de la Cruz, a festival that worships the cross - not Jesus, not what He did on the cross, not what the cross means, just the cross. We heard fireworks as we were preparing the songs for worship the next morning. At one point, Rene said "Run to the door and you'll see a procession of people carrying a cross down the street." Sure enough, she was right. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera (bad timing!) to capture any pictures, but I saw at least two such processions throughout the weekend. Right next to the pastor's family's house, where I sleep on Saturday nights, is a shrine where there was much cross-worshipping happening all night. Fortunately for me, the room where I stay with Lisi and Abigail, the pastor's two daughters is the farthest away from the shrine. Add that to perpetual tiredness and I slept like a log all night, not hearing anything. Ines, the pastor's wife, however, assured me the next morning that, yes, the music and partying went on all night. Walking to my friend Juana's house with her and her sisters after church the next day, I saw another makeshift shrine to the cross set up along the side of the street. Under a dark green tent, a cross sat. In front of the cross were racks of candles, some lit, some not. I did notice, however, that more were lit when I was leaving than when I was coming. Or so it seemed. This festival apparently lasts for 3 days every year.
These two instances lately have reminded me of the idolatry that surrounds me here and the lostness of the people of Cusco. There are many more things I could add, but I'll leave it at that. Please join me in prayer for God's light to dawn on Cusco and drive away the ever-present darkness of sin, to bring God's freedom and saving grace to this needy land.

Never a Dull Moment...

2009-05-05T18:34:00.004-04:00

I had a funny experience today in third grade. Walking into the room for English class right after recess and snack, the first thing I saw was Winny with a container containing lettuce and cucumbers sitting beside her. Presumably her snack. THEN I saw the two big snails on top of the lettuce. I connected the snails with the salad and thought "What in the world? Did she really find those snails while she was eating her salad? How did her mom miss that one?" So I asked her. "Winny, were those snails in your salad?" She explained that the science teacher asked them to bring in animals for their science class today. I told her what I had thought and we both laughed. I must admit to feeling relieved.
The class eagerly informed me (and showed me) that besides Winny's snails, there was Hefzi-Ba's fish and Sebastian's cat (yes, a real live cat that stayed in his desk until it distracted him, at which point he put it in his backpack and fed it crackers because it was hungry...I am not making this up!). Earlier Franco's dog visited the class too.
Then, as we were beginning class, I happened to see Hefzi-Ba with her mouth on a straw. The other end was in the bottle serving as the temporary home of her very frightened fish. Again, in the instant thoughts of a teacher, my brain connected the two and I blurted out, "Hefzi-Ba, are you drinking your fish water?!" She looked at me like "Are you crazy?" and said, "No, I'm giving him oxygen". At which point I said okay, again very relieved.
And then as we were reading our monthly Bible verse, my brain wandered to these two incidents and I had to control myself to keep from laughing in the middle of the verse. Instead, I waited till the end to burst out laughing and recount the two incidents to the entire class, who laughed right along with me.
Oh what a day...call me Noah.

Easter, parasites and being incarnational

2009-04-10T10:08:00.002-04:00

This morning I've been thinking about the Incarnation. It's a word that's thrown around a lot in Christian circles, especially around Christmas time. This year, I'm thinking about it at Easter instead. In - well, you know what that means. Carn - flesh. So the Incarnation is literally the act of coming into the flesh. That's what happened when Jesus came to earth as a baby.
Similarly, incarnational is a word that is commonly used in missions circles. It describes a ministry or a person who is living "in the flesh", not in the way that it is often used of being sinful. But in the way that the person is able to relate to those around them in a way that is recognizable by those people and is approachable. This morning I've been thinking a lot about that word. Why? Because of parasites.
The last week and a half I've been having this stomachache/diarrhea thing. It's off and on, but it's there. It's not bad enough that it requires complete bedrest, but it's bad enough to be annoying. It's restricted my diet to mostly soup, bread, apples, bananas, apple juice, Sprite, water and tea. Beyond that, I run the risk of making my stomach unhappy. I got a test done looking for parasites and it came back negative. Thankfully, we have two doctors on our team, so I showed them the results. They said it's possible I could still have something they wouldn't have seen under a microscope, so they gave me medicine for giardia (a certain type of parasite). Who knows if it will do the trick or not, but I have to teach again on Monday and I'd rather be feeling better by then if possible. I have no idea where I picked up whatever I have. It could have been in any number of places.
As a single person here, without parents or other family members, I think people don't want to let you ever feel lonely. Thus, I am constantly eating at other people's houses. Today, for example, I have been invited to go to the houses of some of the families from my church to eat the traditional 12 plates (or at least some of them) that are served here on Easter week (I don't even know what all they are, but they are very famous and very traditional. Maybe that can be my next blog posting). The up side of eating at other people's houses is that I can be incarnational and get to know people in their homes and build relationships and learn Quechua and they get to feel comfortable with me (and I learn how to cook Peruvian food...at least a little bit). The down side is that being in more places obviously exposes me to more parasites, germs, etc. Getting sick from eating something is actually really common here, even among Peruvians. If you say your stomach doesn't feel well, one of the first questions people will ask you is "Where (or what) did you eat?" I've never had a problem with eating at other people's houses. But this morning, the "once burned, twice shy" concept entered my head. Now that I've gotten sick from something I ingested, wherever that may have been, the question entered my head "What do I do now?"
And then I thought about Jesus. Living in heaven for all eternity, Jesus never experienced hunger, sickness, cold, pain, discomfort, animal dung in the streets, etc. When he chose to take on flesh and become a man (Incarnation), he also chose to take onto himself the reality of being hungry, sick, cold, in pain, of walking in animal dung, of experiencing what we as humans experience, of eventually dying a horrible death. All because of His love for us, which is greater than His love of His own life. Thinking about Jesus, I realized I have two choices. I can sacrifice relationship for the sake of more sure health. Or I can love and live like Jesus did and trust God to keep me well (while using common sense), in the midst of fellowship, relationship and food. And yeah, sometimes I might get sick. But I also have a powerful God who can take care of that. I know what Jesus chose and I know what He'd say in this situation too.
So happy Easter and I'll see you when I get back from Huacarpay.

Exciting announcement and a very quick update

2009-04-02T22:15:00.004-04:00

I am pleased to announce that we now have water in our house again, as of the other day, after 23 days of being waterless! Thank you Jesus! This morning I took a shower in my own house for the first time in almost 4 weeks. Aaaaaaah.
Things are going well at school. The kids are relaxing after the initial two weeks of novelty wore off. I continue to learn a lot about classroom management and about how to love my kids all the time and yet be strict and put into place the boundaries they need as well. Teaching is one of those things that I don't know if you ever really get "down". The fruit of the Spirit song continues to be very popular and I'm still wanting to take the fruits out of the song and put them more in my life. That's gotta be the work of the Holy Spirit. That's all I can say. School keeps me very busy. I always seem to have plenty to do.
We are getting ready for Easter here. I'm also excited to see my youngest brother and his junior class in a few weeks when they come down for a missions trip. So that's a little bit of what's up here. Blessings to you all!

Life without Water

2009-03-21T17:40:00.002-04:00

It's easy to take water for granted. Those tiny little crystalline droplets shooting out of the faucet are always there and abundant. But what if you had to live without water for two weeks? That's the situation at my house right now. They decided to start paving our street so they ripped everything up and then I don't know exactly what happened, but they haven't exactly been working on the street the last few days. So we've been without water. The picture is from one day that we were collecting rainwater in various buckets and dishpans. It was great, until I realized it was only enough for about one toilet flush.
God's spoken to me about a lot of things the last two weeks (okay, thirteen days to be exact). I've learned that without water there is no independence to be had. A lack of water creates community. For instance, without water, I can't take a shower at my house, which necessitates me going to someone else's house to use their shower. We can't drink the water out of the faucet without boiling it, so if we want drinking water, we go to Ron and Regina Shultz's (another missionary family) and fill up our water jugs, since they have filtered water. Were I to be independent at this point and refuse the help of anyone else, I'd be expending way too much energy to make it worth it. I realized this relationship between water and community when, after 3 days of being without water, I decided to take a bucket bath, then realized it was a decision between using that water to bathe or to wash dishes. I poured it back and called Ron and Regina to ask if I could use their shower before school.
One of the biggest blessings in the last week has been the advent of a public spigot about a block from our house. With a bit of ingenious rigging of multiple hoses from multiple missionary families, a system has been developed by which we can bring water directly from the spigot to our house. It's not quite the same as pushing the handle on the toilet and having it magically flush or turning a little knob and having water spew out, but at least we don't have to decide between bathing or washing dishes.
And then on Thursday, something happened to the piping that brought water to the public spigot. It ruptured or something. And there was...again....no water. Yet, in that moment, God spoke to me so strongly. I was starting to feel a bit uneasy. They said this could go for up to about a month or so. What if we have no more public spigot for the rest of that time? How would we do that? And in the same breath, God spoke to me: "Do not worry about what you will eat or drink, or about what you will wear." Okay God, I can trust You. Just then God reminded me as well of the story of Jonah and challenged me with Jonah's example. At the very end of the story, Jonah is sitting outside the city sulking because it's not being destroyed. God causes a vine to grow up and shade him. And then He sends a worm to eat the vine and Jonah gets mad. God basically says, "Okay, let's think about this. You did nothing to have that vine, yet you are mad because I took it away. You're concerned about the vine, but you have no care for the 120,000+ people in that city down there." I'd never understood that part of the story before. But God spoke to my heart. "You did nothing to have the spigot. It was put there and you benefit from it. But now it's taken away and you're concerned about where you're going to get water. How much more am I concerned about the people of Cusco - my creation and those who I care for and love - who are trapped in idolatry and don't know me. And how much more should you be concerned for them?" I don't think I'll forget the meaning of that story for a long time. For the record, the piping was repaired and we had water the next day. Maybe God just wanted to teach me a thing or two?!
And in the last two weeks, I've experienced so many blessings. There was the time that I was going to Ron and Regina's to shower and I got a free ride from my stop to their stop (which was very close, but I didn't have time to walk it). There are all the people who have been letting us use their showers. Like my friend Mari who, when I told her it could be up to a month, said, "Don't worry about where you'll take a shower. You can always take one at my house". Or Ron and Regina, whose house has been turned into a public bath of sorts for the missionaries (there is another family besides us who has no water). Or my pastor and his family, who let me use their shower last weekend when I was at their house. Or John and Cindy, another missionary family who have been letting us use their shower. And there was the woman at the little snack stop for the combi drivers. We live at the end of a public transportation line and there is a little snack stop there. Last weekend I heard there was a truck right near there that was giving out free water to people. I had some stuff to do but then went to get mine, but by the time I got there, the truck had left. I asked the women who were at the snack stop and they told me the truck comes every day but it had left for the day. But one of the women was kind enough to give me the better part of her 5-gallon bucket of water. And then there's our dear friend Marga who helps us out in our house, who has been wonderful in helping us keep our buckets and cans and things filled with water.
So, yeah, we have no water. But in the midst of that having no water, I've received so many more blessings and words from God. Yeah, it would be nice to not have to brush my teeth with a cup or pour water into my toilet to flush it. And it would be nice not to have to plan when I'm going to take a shower and rely on the mercy of others for said shower. But I think, for me anyway, the inconveniences have been more than made up for by the blessings and hearing God's voice in the midst of them.

The First Week of School

2009-03-05T18:50:00.002-05:00

Since tomorrow is the end of the first week of school, I'll give you a little update on what's been going on here.
I was approaching the beginning of the school year with many mixed emotions. Last year I had some very difficult students. One of them, I found out over break, is not returning. This brought me great amounts of relief, although it sounds horrible to say it. Jesus, teach me how to truly love like You do. But still, I faced the prospect of another year with a certain amount of trepidation. Mixed in with that feeling was one of excitement and enthusiasm for a new year, a clean slate, a chance to improve over last year. On top of that was wondering how it was going to go teaching three grades instead of two.
Monday dawned cold and rainy. On top of that, there was some sort of agricultural strike which affected public transportation. Between these two factors, many of our kids didn't show up. Most families here don't have their own car and depend solely on public transportation to get around. So when there's no public transportation, things come pretty much to a standstill. But, undaunted, we started anyway.
As the week has progressed, nearly all of our enrolled students have showed up, thankfully. Our enrollment is about 130, up from 90 last year. It's been a good week overall. Yes, there have been challenges, but it's been positive so far. I am teaching third, fourth and fifth grade English this year, since we have a shortage of English teachers right now. Despite the busyness and the crazy running here and there, I'm enjoying it.
My third grade class is proving to be my most challenging so far. Managing them is difficult. There are several who I feel like I am constantly talking to. And there's Nohelia. Nohelia is being raised by her brother and sister, since her parents died about 2 years ago. The family is struggling to make it financially and Nohelia is struggling to make it emotionally. The complaint of teachers last year is that she doesn't want to do anything in class. She just sits there. Same story when you talk to her. She just sits there and doesn't respond. The third grade teacher this year echoed that thought when I talked to her yesterday. I noted her reluctance to cooperate yesterday as well in my class. My theory is that she needs a lot of love and a lot of discipline. So I'm trying something. I ask her every time I see her if she needs a hug. And she usually does. I don't know if it will work or not, but it's worth a try. Jesus, thank You for arms and a heart that love to give hugs!
My fourth grade class is a blessing! Last year they frustrated me quite a bit with their bad attitudes and a difficulty with listening and paying attention and obeying. Not all of them, but enough of them that just entering the room made my stress level rise many days, especially towards the end of the year. This year, they are so different! The absence of several students makes a difference, as well as the fresh motivation and some maturing after two months of break. They have been great for me this week and I'm really enjoying them! Thank you Jesus!
Fifth grade continues to be a blessing as well. They enjoy English, are motivated, and generally have a good ability to learn the language. They understand well and are also willing to speak. We have a good rapport. The class has a love affair with pizza which was revisited the second day of class when they asked me when we can make pizza in class again. Oh boy...
I decided to do something new this year and choose a student every day to choose an English song to sing. It's great English practice for them and they really seem to enjoy it. I've also taught all my classes this week a song about the fruit of the Spirit, since that's both a theme in the school this year and the verse we're learning this month. The song talks about how the fruit of the Spirit is not a coconut, banana, raisin, kiwi, cherry, watermelon, grape, etc. Each of the fruits has a motion to it. All three classes love the song and ask to sing it every day. I was very impressed to note today that a good number of my fifth graders are actually getting the words, despite the fact that they are fast and in English! Whooohoooo! Singing together has probably been my favorite part of the week thus far.
I realized, in processing all this tonight, that God has been so faithful and good and truly has answered many prayers for this year, especially as far as fourth grade is concerned and as far as I personally am concerned. I can tell that my attitude is much better since the break than it was before. As I teach my kids the fruit of the Spirit, that's been a focus in my own heart as well. I've realized since being here that my tree needs to be bearing much more fruit. I need to be more like Jesus.
So I'm looking forward to the rest of the year. Oh, I won't say that it won't have its difficult times. I won't say it already hasn't. But I know that I'm not alone in this and that God will continue to be my help and enable me to bear more fruit.

My cold hands and Isabo

2009-02-11T20:04:00.002-05:00

I have almost perpetually cold hands. Always have. Probably always will. Enter Isabo. Isabo is in Carrie's summer English class. She's going in to first grade. She's a quick little girl who loves to talk and sing and participate. Yesterday we were standing in a circle with all the kids singing "Hallelalalalelalelujah". And then we grabbed hands to pray. Isabo happened to be standing in between me and Jessica, another girl who is here for several months helping out in the school. Grabbing both of our hands, which were both cold, she said, half to herself, half to whoever else happened to be listening "Alalau!", which is the Quechua word for "Brrrr!". (They don't get brrrrr here.) That in itself made me laugh.
So after we prayed, I said, "Isabo, I'm sorry. My hands are freezing!" She looked at me in all sincerity and simply said "Guantes" (gloves). And again I had to laugh.
Then today we went to the zoo with all the English class kids. Isabo was sitting on my lap on the bus on the way there. All of a sudden, her hands grasped mine. Before I knew it, my hands were crammed into the tiny pocket on the front of her sweatshirt, half of my palms sticking out either side. My fingers, amazingly, began feeling warmer. And then she put her little hands on top of the backs of my hands that were sticking out of her pocket, covering them protectively. And my whole hands started to feel the warmth. Pretty soon, they weren't cold anymore. My heart, at the same time, was melting too, for the record. Here was this tiny little girl, half my size, was taking care of my cold hands and warming them up as best as she knew how.
And so God showed me love today through the warm hands of a 6-year-old Peruvian child in a blue sweatsuit on the bus on the way to zoo.

Women and Technology - a different perspective

2009-02-07T10:45:00.002-05:00

Here's a little story, just to make you smile.
Washing machines here are a luxury. The majority of Peruvian women wash their clothes by hand and teach their kids how to do it too. Realistically, it would be extremely rare to find a Peruvian who had never had the experience of washing clothes by hand.
My friend Marga's washing machine broke down the other month. Apparently, several weeks ago she was lamenting this fact to someone at church and David, the pastor overheard her.
"Only lazy women use washing machines", he told her.
"No David," she replied. "I'm not the lazy one. While I'm washing clothes, I'm also cooking, cleaning, washing dishes, and taking care of my kids. I get a lot done in a short time! The lazy one is the woman who doesn't have a washing machine and spends all day washing clothes, not getting anything else done!"

Adventures in Bolivia

2009-01-12T22:19:00.002-05:00

I'm in Arequipa right now and don't have my computer with me. So I won't have pictures for this one, but thought I'd give you all a good laugh anyway. :) Hopefully I can add pictures once I get back home.
So I went to Santa Cruz, Bolivia with my friend Marisol to visit her brother Alfredo, who is working in a children's home and studying there. We left on Sunday night, January 4, at 10 PM on a bus, en route to La Paz, Bolivia, the first leg of our journey. We crossed the border with no problems whatsoever (thank you Jesus!) and about 2 hours later, pulled into La Paz. Arriving in the bus terminal there, we decided to look for tickets for Santa Cruz. After hearing from about two bus lines that there were no tickets, I decided to ask why and was informed that there were landslides on the road to Santa Cruz and no buses were going there. We asked what our other options were and were told that we could go to Cochabamba in a bus and then get a smaller van from there to take us to Santa Cruz. That was the only way, short of flying. We opted for the bus, since it seemed like a reliable option. There was a bus leaving in about half an hour, so we bought tickets and headed out of La Paz less than an hour after arriving. Wow!
7 hours later, around 8:30, we arrived in Cochabamba. Inquiring about vans headed to Santa Cruz, we were told that there was one leaving immediately. It was expensive, but "guaranteed" to get us there. So we loaded all our stuff in. The only place for it was right where our feet needed to go. So we put our feet on top and I tried to find a comfortable angle to stretch out my feet without putting them in anyone else's personal space....hmmm....hard to do when there are 8 people in a minivan with luggage and all. We traveled out of Cochabamba, to the tune of an older woman of obvious Quechua descent who was making sure the driver knew he could not drive too fast or too dangerously. For about 2 hours, we traveled in this fashion, until we stopped, thanks to a traffic jam. The driver got out, leaving his 7 passengers trying to find sleep in a stuffed van with a man who snored very determinedly. We sat there for about 3 hours till we could finally go. Traveling about a half an hour more, we got stuck again. This time, we decided to wait out the rest of the night (only a few hours at this point) and see what would happen in the morning. Later I found out that we were stopped due to the fact that there had been a landslide and part of the road had fallen out of place and was now completely impassable. In the early morning, no one was exactly sure when there would be a way through or if there would be. So we decided the best bet was to walk. We joined the human stream of people flowing towards the site of the landslide. It turned into a human river the closer we got. We ended up walking for 2 hours, carrying all our stuff, shifting it between us in order to avoid our muscles from getting too sore from carrying too much weight for too long. We tried at one point to wrap up all my stuff in my blanket so I could carry it more easily on my back. We had to try about 3 times to get it all comfortable, much to the amusement of the people from the country who were sitting there watching this gringa try to get a large load on her back, with much assistance from my friend Marisol. We finally got it on and I started walking, only to realize that the material in my blanket was highly stretchy and my load was shifting lower and lower and lower. We abandoned the idea quickly, laughing all the while. Finally, we reached the site of the landslide and waited for the road equipment to finish working so we could go across to the other side. Arriving on the other side, we decided we didn't want to walk the 7 kilometers that apparently were still between us and a bus that would take us to Santa Cruz. So we took motorcycles conveniently parked there and doing quite a brisk business shuttling people back and forth. Minutes later, the motorcycle drivers deposited us at the makeshift bus stop where buses were heading back to Santa Cruz, after having lost their passengers in the mass of people moving to where we had just come from. We found a bus leaving right away, a regular city bus. The next 9 hours or so were spent traveling on this bus (which became very uncomfortable after about 7 hours), which finally took us to Santa Cruz.
The first thing we did after arriving was call Alfredo, who was waiting for us at another bus terminal. While waiting for him to come, I discovered that Bolivia is the land of unexpected ups and downs when the sidewalk and I had a close encounter. End result: a skinned knee and a nice little hole in my sweatpants. :( Welcome to Santa Cruz.
The rest of the day went much better. We took a much-needed shower and went to the mall to watch a movie. It ws good to see Alfredo again. I knew him when I was here with YES, but hadn't gotten to reconnect till now, beyond email and facebook.
We asked Alfredo what he wanted to eat from Peru. He immediately answered aji de gallina, which is like chicken in a yellow sauce, served with rice and potatoes. You gotta understand that Marisol hates cooking and I don't know how to do it very well. So we got our heads together. After getting all the ingredients, we began to cook. Between the two of us, we made it, though we had a moment of panic when the aji sauce turned out super salty. A little more bread and milk and some more boiling took care of that one. Two heads are definitely better than one.
The week was spent getting to know some of the people and places that are a part of Santa Cruz. One day we visited the random sand dunes that are plunked down in the middle of the countryside outside the city. Before we got to see the dunes, however we spent an hour pushing Alfredo's friend Noel's taxi out of the sand where it got severely stuck. Thanks to some ingenious engineering involving flip flops, sticks, water, car jacks and stones (some successful and some not so much), we got the car unstuck and went to see the dunes, which were beautiful and rather mystifying, seeing as how I have no idea how God dropped all that sand there.
Another day, we went to see Las Cabañas, a collection of restaurants housed in thatched-roofed huts with no walls, serving typical Bolivian food. Yummy!
We spent lots of time walking around downtown Santa Cruz, enjoying the scenery and shopping. We saw several movies and spent time getting to know Alfredo's friens. Mari wanted to stay longer, but I needed to leave earlier to get back to Arequipa for the missionary retreat. So I decided to fly part of the way back. Sunday morning at 6:30, I flew out of the Santa Cruz airport, landing in La Paz 1 hour later. From there, I got a van to the border, about 2 hours away. The van dropped me off about half a mile from the border, but I had no idea where to go, so I took a tricycle - basically like a big, 3-wheeled bike with a large wooden box in front, pedaled by a driver, in which I and all my stuff could fit. Thankfully, I had another uneventful border crossing (it's always kind of nerve-wracking to cross the border with nothing but a Peruvian green card. I'm never quite sure if they're going to accept it as valid. So far I haven't had any problems, but I have friends who have.) From the border, I found a bus headed to Arequipa. 9 hours later, around 8 PM, I arrived in Arequipa. The Arequipan taxi driver who "just happened to" be sitting next to me on the bus, and to whom I had a chance to talk about God, helped me find a taxi to take me to my hotel and made sure he didn't charge me too much.
And so it all worked out. Yes, I had adventure. But, despite all the craziness, traveling actually went pretty smoothly. I never had to wait more than half an hour to find any kind of transportation. I always had people there who knew what they were doing. And I had a big God by my side. And I need to go because the computer battery is dying quickly. Blessings to you all and hopefully pictures will come soon!

Going to the campo and I'm serving hot chocolate

2008-12-30T20:26:00.006-05:00

This past weekend I went to the campo, the countryside of Peru, away from the lights and sounds of the city. A group of 7 of us went from the three churches in the vicinity of Cusco, in order to deliver some Christmas cheer, in the form of hot chocolate, bread, toys, clothes, and balloon animals. We left on a sunny Saturday morning in a van laden with feed sacks and several garbage bags full of clothes donated by church members, matresses, tents, our own stuff, food, supplies for hot chocolate....everything except the kitchen sink, basically. Driving in the campo in Peru is quite an adventure. Let me see if I can give you a mental picture. All around are huge, green mountains, like immense folds of green cloth draped randomly on the earth, stretching as far as the eye can see. At this time of the year, they look somewhat like patchwork quilts, lots of tiny fields joined together with red-brown adobe walls. Cut into the sides of these mountains are thin, winding dirt roads with no guard rails, in most places just wide enough for one car (luckily we didn't see any other cars while we were going out). Around the blind curves (of which there seemed to be a lot), we blew the horn, just in case. One side of the road is cut into the mountain. The other side is a large drop-off, plunging down the side of the mountain. Occasionally, a cluster of adobe houses clings to the side of the mountain. Even more occasionally, you'll see a village. We traveled on these roads for several hours, stopping several times to make sure the road was passable. Since it's the rainy season, there are mud puddles and slippery spots where the van wanted to slide around and fishtail. I didn't get too worried most of the time, but there were a few times that I stressed out for a minute. We were headed to a village called Limacpampa, where the church has not been working yet, which was still about an hour down the road when we came to a serious problem. There had been a landslide on the road and it was now blocked. With the help of picks and muscles, we shoved enough rocks off the edge of the road so that we could get the van through. Happy with ourselves, we climbed back into the van and continued our journey...for about another 500 feet till we came to another landslide. Roberto decided that it was not safe for us to continue, because the mountain still looked unstable. And besides, there were at least two more landslides on the road that we could see. So after a quick conference, we decided to go to San Juan de Quihuares and Yarccacunca, two villages where the church is already established. So we turned around and headed back to San Juan de Quihuares. As we pulled into the village, it was raining. Hard. The rain turned all the dirt roads to mud. When it stopped, we decided to walk down the slippery mud path to the church. I followed Roberto's boot prints, walking past the pigs grazing and climbing over the fence that keeps someone's bulls in their pen. Yes, that's really how the people get to church there! We eventually carried everything into the church and surveyed our new surroundings. The church sanctuary is big, built in faith because the people are few. Next to the church is a kitchen, a small adobe room with a stack of adobe bricks in the middle. The stove in the church is really complex....ready for this? Take one adobe brick and place it against the wall/stack of adobes that are in the middle of the room. Take another adobe brick and place it about a foot away from the other one, against the wall as well. Build a fire between the two bricks. Place a pot on top and there's your stove! The bathroom is even more complex. Go into the cornfield beside the church.
We cooked our dinner and went to bed early, knowing we'd need to get up early the next morning. Tip for the wise that I learned that night: when cooking over an open fire, rub mud on the outside of the pot to keep it from getting all black. It really works; try it! I got up at about 5:30 and dressed, to the sound of one of the men from the church chopping firewood in the kitchen (people in the country get up early). We decided that the best time to give out hot chocolate and things would be 8 AM, since kids in the country have to help take care of the family's animals and things during the day. We melted the chocolate bar in some water, then began boiling a huge 50-liter pot of water to make the hot chocolate for about 130 people. It took a really long time to boil that much water. At one point, I had a moment of panic when I realized that I hadn't seen any cups whatsoever in which to serve the hot chocolate. The Peruvians reassured me that, nope, the kids bring their own cups. After the water boiled, we dumped in the chocolate, added powdered milk and sugar, stirred it all together and we had hot chocolate! Just in time too. The kids started coming, a few at a time, heads disheveled, clothes dirty, feet protruding from rubber-tire ojotas. They shyly held out their tin cups (or small pitchers or disposable small soda bottles) for their hot chocolate. "T'antayki kaypi kashan", I told them. Here's your bread. And, happily, they went outside to makeshift benches or the grass to savor their treat. While they were eating, Carrie, Hilda, Roberto and Ruth handed out toys, clothing and balloon animals, while Pamela and I served hot chocolate and bread in the kitchen. There was one little girl who was so cute. She just sat on the bench in the kitchen by the door for the longest time, not saying a word, eating her bread so daintily, dipping it in her hot chocolate and letting the drips run off before popping it into her mouth. She couldn't have been more than 3. Every time we tried to talk to her, in Spanish or Quechua, she just stared at us, not saying a word. We ended up serving about 130 people.
After the last people came through the line and the crowd drifted away, we had church out on the lawn in the sun, sitting on low wooden benches. There were about 25 people in church that morning, listening to Roberto preach about Jesus as Emmanuel. The service was simple and fairly short. At the end, one of the leaders of the church made an announcement about wanting help to construct the church bathroom. I was thinking he was talking about sometime in the next few weeks or months. But as we were cooking lunch after church, some of the hermanos came back with picks and shovels and began to hack at the long grass by the fence surrounding the church property. I asked Roberto what they were making and he replied "the bathroom". By the time we finished eating lunch and packed up to go to Yarccacunca, the foundation was dug and the adobe brick walls were beginning to take shape. We wound again around mountain roads, en route to Yarccacunca. Arriving, we had to carry everything again from the van to the church, about a 5 minute walk, but not as easy as it sounds, since it was all uphill - steep uphill. We were pleased to find, on arriving, that there was a bathroom and a kitchen with two adobe woodburning stoves (actual stoves, not adobe bricks). We hung out for a while, then the youth started coming for their weekly youth meeting. It was awkward at first, with no one talking, no one knowing quite what to say. People are more shy to talk in the country. Then we started the meeting and everyone warmed up to each other. After the youth left, we cooked supper and roasted marshmallows and Peruvian hot dogs over the fire. The next morning, we woke up early and began the process of making hot chocolate again. Again, there was the long wait for the water to boil, again the line of disheveled children shyly holding out their mugs for hot chocolate, then sitting around on the grass happily munching. The child who most tugged at our hearts in Yarccacunca was Nelson. No more than 4 years old, Nelson is the son of an absent father and an alcoholic mother. According to the church leaders and Roberto, he eats, sleeps and goes wherever he wants to, without any kind of supervision. His situation was so sad. We were expecting that there would be considerably fewer people in Yarccacunca, only to find out as we were preparing the chocolate that there were about the same number of people, prompting fear that there would not be enough bread for everyone. We prayed hard and as it turned out, there was just enough bread for everyone and for us as well. Thank you God! We finished up the second chocolatada, packed up all the clothing to leave at the church, ate lunch, and left Yarccacunca to return to Cusco, our load much smaller than when we came. The drive back was quite fun, always keeping our eyes out for children along the road to whom we could give the few extra toys that were left over and the balloon animals that Carrie was twisting in the back seat of the van. Driving back toward Cusco, the sunset was absolutely beautiful - the sky stained pink and orange, surrounded by huge mountains on every side, with some beautiful snow-capped peaks in the distsance. We slowed down to let a llama amble across the road and then to avoid hitting sheep from the flocks that were being driven home by Andean women in their hats, braids, ojotas and brightly-striped q'eperinas (blankets). Finally, we saw the lights of Cusco spread out below us. Then we were driving through Cusco, recognizing the sights. And then we were home. Back to the comforts of the city, to running water in the house, to a warm, soft bed, to a bathroom and a stove that doesn't require firewood. So different from life in the countryside. I had to ask myself "What did we really do?" We fed the tummies of country kids and clothed their bodies. Seems so simple. Yet as I think of that, I have to remember the words of Jesus - "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me." The difference between the city and the country is immense. It was good to get to know a bit of the countryside. I left and came back home, but those in the country...well, that's their life! My prayer is "Lord, don't let me forget and become so surrounded by creature comforts that I lose touch with the reality of what life is really like for so many people." So that was my weekend. Quite full, but quite rewarding. Definitely a good experience. Definitely worth it all.

A Christmas Greeting from my Kids and I

2008-12-22T19:27:00.003-05:00

We worked really hard in third and fourth grade the past month or so to learn Luke 2:11-12 in English, in the form of a song. The kids did wonderful in the program! I was so proud of them. So I wanted to put the video on here so you could all see it. Unfortunately, I had difficulty uploading it onto Blogger, so I put it on YouTube. To see the video, please click here and enjoy. Merry Christmas from my students and I!

Doorknobs and gingerbread men: A tale of God's grace

2008-12-11T20:18:00.003-05:00

It all started when I decided to do a unit on Christmas around the world. I thought it would be fun to make gingerbread men with both classes. The only problem. We don't have gingerbread man cookie cutters here....that I know of anyway. Problem solved: Moms are wonderful! She told me she'd send me some. So I waited for the package to arrive. For various reasons, it took a while to come. I kept pushing back and pushing back the project. Finally, with 2 weeks left of school, I decided to start the Christmas in the United States week without the cookie cutters, in faith that they would come. And they did - the day before I was going to start making the cookies. In that simple fact alone, I saw God's grace and his care for my kids and for me. It was a good reminder that He cares about the little things I do...even if they don't always seem to me to be that eternally important.
So we started making gingerbread men yesterday. Fourth grade was fine (again I got told that I am more attractive in an apron...weird). But third grade....well, they were third grade. At least Jonatan was his normal self. He decided he wanted to eat something during English class. Which is not allowed, at least in my class. So Sharith decided to take things into her own hands and took his snack away from him. Which got her shoved roughly onto the cement floor by Jonatan. Which made me decide that I needed to take away his privilege of participating in the making of the cookies. Which obviously didn't make him too happy, since he'd been looking forward to making cookies, along with the rest of the class, for several weeks now. So he decided to make life miserable for me and for the rest of the class for the rest of the day. At every possible opportunity, he was trying to snitch pieces of dough from the bowl we were working from. It was very annoying, both for me and for his classmates, who were warning me at every opportunity to watch out for Jonatan. End result: he lost the privilege of participating again today and I called his grandmother, who he lives with, to make her aware of the situation.
This morning I was asking God to give me love in my heart for Jonatan because I wasn't feeling particularly loving towards him today. Only He could have imagined how that prayer would be answered. First of all, Jonatan's dad came today, having heard from the grandmother that there were problems yesterday. So I got to talk to him and explain to him what happened and he heard me and was supportive and concerned about his son - a major blessing. And then for some crazy, unexplained reason, the outside part of the doorknob fell off the third grade door. It's a fairly new doorknob. I don't know what happened. It just fell off! It wasn't a problem, all morning since there was always someone in the room, until all the kids left for recess and the door closed (or did God close it, just to teach me a lesson? Hmmm.....). So there I was...the door closed, I needed to teach fourth grade music class for Ron, who had to go to a meeting today, and I had no idea how I was going to get in the room to work on making gingerbread men with third grade last period. Thankfully, third grade was in gym class, so we didn't have to worry about what was going to happen with them for 45 minutes, while I taught music class. The first thing, however, that came to mind as a possible solution was "Ask Jonatan". This kid loves fixing things. And he's really good at it too. So I called him. He came right away, which in itself amazed me. I told him I had a challenge for him. He took one look at the hole where the doorknob should have been, stuck his fingers in it, and announced that he needed a pliers after gym class. I was wondering if I should trust his judgment. Thankfully, Ron came back right in time to help switch the two classes to where they needed to be (we do gym class at a big covered playing field down the street cause we don't have enough space at the school itself). I explained the situation and said that Jonatan said he'd need a pliers. Ron agreed that would work, if we had one. A scissors was the next best option. So Jonatan stuck the scissors in the hole in the doorknob and wiggled it around for a while. Finally, click, the door popped open and third grade surged inside! Jonatan was an instant celebrity in third grade. It felt good to finally be able to say "Great job Jonatan! I'm so proud of you!" And you could tell he was proud of himself too. He was absolutely beaming.
I still didn't allow him to participate today in the making of the gingerbread men. Consequences are consequences and need to be felt. But I'm planning on him participating tomorrow. He went to work with the psychologist today during English class, at my request. But when he came back and we were still working on the cookies, he was a totally different child from yesterday. He was cooperative, didn't even try to snitch cookie dough, though he had ample opportunity. He was helpful and respectful. He was great!
I'd like to think that maybe God knocked the doorknob off the door to show me His grace. Yesterday I was so frustrated with Jonatan, after a whole year of fighting with him and feeling like he needs things I can't give him, that I was feeling like the next 6 days of school would be torture and I had no desire to teach him next year. But then, God came through today and showed me again that yes, He is there and yes, I can do it with His help. Now, this does not mean I might not ever get frustrated with Jonatan again. The chances of that being the case are slim, considering his track record. But today, in the midst of my own human weakness and lack of grace, God again reminded me of His grace, not only for Jonatan, but for me as well. If I've learned one thing this year as a teacher, it is that God's grace for me is so huge, so endless and so amazing. Seems like every time I need it, I see it pull through for me. Every time I need it, there it is. I stand amazed at it, at God, at His goodness and love for me and for my students.

adventures in cooking

2008-11-25T17:35:00.005-05:00

This past weekend, there was a marriage retreat at the San Jeronimo church on Saturday afternoon. Carrie, Shannon and I were asked to make food for the event. Okay, not asked. Volunteered. We weren't that crazy about the idea, but you just do what you're asked to do.
Friday, our friend Marga helped us get massive amounts of chicken breasts, potatoes, carrots, green beans, other assorted vegetables, strawberries, and cake ingredients. Friday afternoon, I came home from school to find 3 people in the house, washing vegetables in dishpans, colanders, containers, whatever - even the mop bucket (disinfected, of course)! After we finished washing just about everything, the water decided to stop flowing from the spigot. This happens regularly at night at our house, usually mostly in the upstairs bathroom. But when we really need water for something, it always seems to turn off during the day too. This time was no exception. There was no water whatsoever anywhere. Yes, we had some buckets full of water awaiting such an occurrence, but, not knowing how long we would be without our water, we didn't want to use too much from them. We had enough water to cover the potatoes so they didn't get brown. And some greasy, nasty dishwater in the sink that we didn't want to let go down the drain, just in case we'd need it for something. And then we set to work, preparing all the vegetables. I went outside with the 25 pounds of green beans and got right down to business, stemming and snapping them. Reminded me of summer in the States. Meanwhile, others were peeling carrots and potatoes. There were various people helping throughout the evening. With all the hands working fast and furiously, we managed to make and bake 6 cakes, peel 50 pounds of potatoes, and peel and cut 50 pounds of green beans and carrots. Oh, and someone managed to drop some mostly still-wet chocolates on the kitchen floor. By the time we stopped laughing and got to cleaning it up, it had hardened on the floor. Without the aid of water, getting it up was, let's just say, difficult. So we cleaned up what we could and left the rest. Coming back into the kitchen before going to bed and seeing it sprawled out there on the floor, I took one look and began laughing. It looked exactly like a cow! In my sleep-deprived mind, it looked quite like a cow had died on our kitchen floor. So I took a whiteboard marker and outlined it so everyone else could see what I was seeing. I think we all got a kick out of the chocolate on the floor. Our kitchen was....well, a bit messy, as you can see. But what can you do when you have no water to wash all the dishes that are generated when cooking for such a massive amount of people? We decided to call it a night around 11 and slept really well!
Thankfully, the water was back on when we woke up on Saturday morning and we were able to wash some of the dishes that had accumulated the night before. Then we set to work again, cutting up onions, strawberries, potatoes, celery, parsley, and oregano and grating cheese, making stuffing, making whipped cream in the mop bucket (please remember it was clean!), filling chicken breasts, seasoning potatoes, and putting everything in baking pans. We ended up with 14 of them till we were done. Where do you bake 14 baking pans full of food? Luckily, if you're in Peru, you likely have a community oven close. Community ovens are a wonderful thing. Since many people don't have ovens in their homes, community ovens are open to anyone. Many people who have them in their houses are bread makers. But they have extra room in their ovens on a regular basis. So people can bring things and they'll bake them for a small fee. You drop them off, come back after a while and voila! You have cooked food! We lugged the 14 baking pans between 5 of us over to the oven, about a block from our house. They easily fit into the oven. Then we called one of the men from the church, who has a taxi, and asked if he could pick us and the food up when we were ready to go out to the church. That detail taken care of, we decided to go out to the church awhile to begin cooking the vegetables. When we got there, we found out that we wouldn't be eating till about an hour later than what we'd thought. So we hung out at the church for about an hour till we had to go pick up the food. Right as we were getting ready to go, it began to rain. Now, around this time of year, often when it rains, it hails. That's just the way the weather is. Yeah, you guessed it. We were running through hail to the bus stop to pick up public transportation to get home to get the food out of the oven. Well, when we got to the bus stop at the bottom of the huge hill on which our house sits, there was no rain. (Not only is rain in Cusco accompanied by hail, it is also very spotty). But till the combi came to pick us up and take us up the hill, it was definitely raining. So we ran up the last bit of hill to our front door in the rain. After changing into dry clothes, we went to the oven with Hermano Satu in his taxi and collected all our various baking pans of chicken and potatoes. Covering them with blankets in the back of the taxi, we headed to the church. In a steady rain, we carried all of the pans to the church kitchen, where we covered them with blankets on the floor till we were ready to serve the food. Hurriedly, we dumped the vegetables in pots so they could boil and be ready by the time everyone was ready to eat. And then it was a mad, scurrying rush of serving and grabbing bites to eat and serving cake. And then it was time to clean up and wash all the dishes, which took us far into the night. Around 10:15, David came back with the church combi from taking the people from Huacarpay and Lucre back to their homes. We loaded in, all our dirty baking pans in tow to wash at home in the morning. We got home around 10:45, tired, with the feeling of having done our job pretty well and now wanting to get some shut-eye! Carrie (my roommate) declared quite emphatically that it will be a while before she cooks for that many people again. It was quite the adventure and tired us all out. It was fun, in a way, but I'm glad I don't have to do it every day. It was, however, a good roommate bonding experience. :)

Moments of Merriment and Mirth with a Mexican Christmas

2008-11-13T18:13:00.005-05:00

Okay, I'll admit it. There are sometimes that I just want to laugh at my students. Today there were several of them in third grade. First of all, let me back up and say that we are studying Christmas around the world in both third and fourth grades right now. Last week, we spent the week in Sweden learning about St. Lucia's Day and Tomte (the Swedish Santa Claus) and their Christmas trees with edible decorations. We did several exciting projects. This week we're in Mexico learning about Las Posadas and manger scenes and how Mexican children put their shoes out so that the 3 kings can put gifts in them (I think my kids were somewhat grossed out by that little tidbit of information!). Today in fourth grade, we made a yummy Mexican dessert called Merengon. In third grade we're making piñatas out of balloons, newspaper and toilet paper. And of course paste. Lots and lots of paste. It wasn't a problem on my kitchen table...honest!
And then I took paste into third grade yesterday. Lucky for me, it's just flour and water...not a bad combination. Being the adult, orderly by nature, in my first year of teaching, never having done this with 20 kids in my charge before, it never occurred to me to have the kids bring in an old shirt or something they could use to cover themselves. The result of that was that yesterday, I had 20 kids covered in varying degrees by flour-water paste and a bunch washing out their uniform jackets during recess (the difference between American kids and Peruvian kids is that many Peruvian kids are used to washing clothes by hand). Let me just put a disclaimer on this: doing laundry during recess was completely their idea and was not provoked in any way by their English teacher. So I decided I'd get smart and tell the kids to bring in an old shirt today, for everyone's peace of mind. Well, anyone who's ever worked with kids knows how reliable their memories can be when you don't want them to be and how unreliable they can be when you want them to remember something. The end result of my announcement was about 5-7 old shirts appearing today. The rest of the kids somehow magically remembered when they walked in the school door today. Thus, I was barraged with numerous pronouncements of "Profe, I didn't bring my old shirt". I was contenting myself with just telling them "Then you'll have to be really careful not to get paste on you".
They, however, must not have been content with that (or else they didn't want to wash their uniforms by hand again). I must explain that I had given each one of them a plastic grocery bag with their name on it yesterday on which to lay their piñata as it was drying. When they came in from gym class, their piñatas were on their desks and their grocery bags were lying along the walls of the classroom so they could again place their sticky piñatas on them overnight. Jonatan was the first one to get the brilliant idea. He came up to me with his grocery bag on like an apron and said "Profe, can you tie this for me?" I marveled at his creativity. It took all of about 5 seconds for his idea to spread like wildfire through the entire class. Thus, while several were donning old shirts, numerous others were coming up to me saying "Profe, can you tie this?" Grocery bags, however, unfortunately, have an opening smaller than the waist size of your average Peruvian third grader, causing problems. And then Isaac came up with another brilliant idea. He stepped through the bottom of his grocery bag, pulling it up like a bathing suit, and putting the handles over his shoulders like straps. In the end, this (or variations of it) proved to be by far the most popular design. It didn't take long for me to have virtually 20 third graders decked out in the latest grocery bag fashions. In the midst of the madness, Ron entered to collect library books. Through the myriad rustle of plastic bags, I called "I have a class of artistic geniuses!" He looked at them, in various stages of plasticating themselves, and said "This was their idea?" I assured him I had had absolutely nothing to do with it, to which he laughed and replied "I need to get the camera!" Luckily I had mine too.
I had another interesting thing happen in third grade today - funny, yet thought-provoking too. I decided that since I'd gotten paste on myself as well (funny how that happens when you're working with kids but not when you're doing it by yourself at home...), I'd bring an apron today. So I brought this very old and thin Peruvian style apron that we have at home. I felt a little funny with it on, since I'm not accustomed to wearing aprons of any style - Peruvian or American. (Peruvian aprons, just for the record, cover the front and back and tie on the sides. In the front they have several big pockets. Most more traditional women wear them often. And I think pretty much anyone who sells in the market wears one.) The kids were at gym class when I put it on. When they came back, I met some of them in the hallway to tell them to enter the class calmly and orderly so we could get started right away on our project. Isaac ran up to me, gave me a hug and said "Profe, you look beautiful!" Later, Shally said the same thing. The only thing I can figure out is that this was the first time they'd seen me looking more Peruvian and they liked it! As I was working on putting on plastic bag aprons in the classroom Miriam came in. She came right up to me and, pretending I was a vendor in the market, asked "Do you have any tomatoes?" I played along "6 soles a kilo", I told her. "Do you have change for a 10?" she wondered. Then she wondered if I had potatoes. I told her I didn't. It was a strange, amazing and funny phenomenon all at the same time, how my kids reacted to me in the apron. I'll have to do further experiments with the apron in the future. I'm curious now. (Plus, it has nice big pockets which really come in handy as a teacher!)
Sometimes I just want to laugh. And now that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have a class full of artistic geniuses, I wonder how I can incorporate more artistic aspects into the class, especially in learning grammar.
The pictures are, from top to bottom: Isaac in his bag, Alejandra, Diana and Miriam in their bags, Bethany, Alejandra, Miriam, Yuli and Dany in their bags, Dany in his bag, Stefany and Saraí in their bags.

And so we are coming to the end...

2008-11-09T18:52:00.002-05:00

The end is in sight. Not that I am desperately awaiting its arrival, but I can't help but realize that the school year is winding down. I have now handed in my last month planning and we are in the middle of our last unit both in third and fourth grades. It's a longer unit, since it covers the last 6 weeks of the school year instead of the normal 4-week units. And I decided to take advantage of everything that the kids are supposed to learn and make them into 2 units about Christmas around the world. Fourth grade's focus is food and third grade's focus is...well, varied. It includes meeting people, having sensory experiences, etc... We're doing a lot of craft-type projects, which the kids love. And when the kids love what they're doing, they behave better. Which makes me happier too. The rule of thumb that applies to moms also applies to teachers, I think. "When the teacher ain't happy, ain't nobody happy". So far at least, I think we'll end the year on a good note in both classes.
I'm teaching all my students a song that I learned as a child from a tape of Scripture verses in song that we had. It comes from Luke 2:11, 12: "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: you will find the baby wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger." The kids seem to be enjoying it. We've talked about what the words mean, but I really want to get to what the heart of the verse means as well. Jesus the Savior was born for us. He was born humbly. He was born as the promised one sent from God for us. I was very excited the other week when I introduced the verse to my fourth graders. I was telling them that this was the last verse and the last unit for the year. Ronaldo burst out "Awwwww.....this is the last verse?" He's always the first one to wonder when we're going to change the verse (which we do every month), so I've always thought that he didn't really enjoy them. But the disappointment in his voice and the fact that, when I asked him, he told me he wanted more verses, told me otherwise. It was good encouragement to keep going.
And then last week the first graders did a chapel for the whole school based on the armor of God. Over the summer, we worked for several months learning that passage in fourth grade. Since it was so long, we put motions to it and everything. So I decided to do a little review with them after chapel. We went through the entire verse and most of the kids seemed to remember it well. I was very impressed.
This past week we studied Sweden. Fourth grade made St. Lucia buns and third grade made a St. Lucia crown of candles out of paper plates and construction paper. I'll have to put pictures on here. There are definite maturity differences between the two classes (beyond just the fact that one is third grade and the other is fourth). Fourth grade has a much longer attention span, so they caught a lot more of what I was telling them. Next up is Mexico. Should be interesting.
It's been a good last few weeks. Yes, they've had their challenges, but things have been going much better lately than they were during the summer. I'm learning a lot. Teaching is definitely a very complex and delicate process. And it all seems to happen at 80 miles an hour.
5 weeks left. 5 busy weeks. 5 short weeks. 5 weeks of teaching and learning. It's hard to believe. The year has gone so fast. I can definitely feel God's help in so many ways. And yes, I can most DEFINITELY feel the prayers of so many people. Thank you! Here's to the final weeks of the school year.

Moments with my kids

2008-10-20T22:39:00.002-04:00

I've had several moments with my kids the past week, ranging from funny to exciting, that I wanted to share.
First of all, I've realized again the value of the spelling bee practice I had when I was in middle school. I asked my fourth graders to bring in pictures of animals, since we're studying them this month. Sara brought in a picture of a bird she called a zarapito. I had no idea whatsoever what it was called in English. So I looked it up on the Internet, only to find that it is called a curlew in English. That wouldn't be funny, except that when I was in about 6th grade, I got out of a spelling bee because I spelled that word incorrectly. So when I saw it, it made me laugh. Sometimes I like to tell my fourth graders random stories. And they seem to enjoy it too. So I decided to tell them the story about the curlew. Well, when I told them, they surprised me and told me they wanted to have a spelling bee in class! So...we had a spelling bee in fourth grade last week and they seemed to love it. Who would've ever thought...maybe it will become an English class staple.
Then there was Jonatan on Friday. I'd brought in prizes for my third graders and told them that I was going to double check what all I had when I got home. If I was missing anything, I'd stop handing out tickets for good behavior until it was found (we've had difficulty with stealing at the school this year at times). At recess, I saw Shally and Jonatan talking. And then, Shally came up to me and gave me a sheet of stickers which I recognized from the prizes I'd bought the night before. "Jonatan wanted me to give you this", she explained. I called Jonatan over and told him that, though I wasn't happy with what he'd done, I was very proud of him for admitting it. We're trying to work on honesty and values in the kids at the school. It was some what of a miracle, very welcome, that Jonatan actually admitted what he'd done and made it right. It was encouraging.
And then today, I had to laugh in fourth grade. We have routines that we do every day and the kids know by this point, almost at the end of the year, what I say every day while we do these routines. Today, some of them decided that they knew them so well that they wanted to say them with me as we did them. So I had a chorus of little parrots saying what I was saying. It made me laugh, but it was also great practice for them.
So those are some of the "teacher moments" from the last week. Hope you can laugh with me as I enjoy the silly and wonderful things that my kids tend to come up with.

He carries the lambs in His arms

2008-10-10T19:04:00.003-04:00

A verse that I've been thinking about a lot lately is Isaiah 40:11 - "He tends his flock like a shepherd. He carries the lambs in His arms and gently leads those that have young". I've got a lot of little lambs in my care that so desperately need to know the Father-love of the Good Shepherd. One of the phrases that many of my students have learned this year is "Do you need a hug?" While I'm not God and I don't always show them His love perfectly, I do have a wonderful, God-given pair of arms that has given hundreds of hugs this year.
Many of my students come from difficult home and family situations. Those that act up in class usually have deep emotional needs that fuel the behavior. For instance, there is Jonatan, who, until the last week or so that he has been living with his grandparents, was alone from about 6 AM till he came to school, then went home to an empty house, cooked lunch for himself, and spent the afternoon alone till his dad came home from work in the evening. His parents are separated and he's had experiences he should never have had to have in his short life. Dany and Lucero are brother and sister. They also go home to an empty house, because their mom works really hard selling in the market to make ends meet so they can attend PROMESA.
And then there are the ones who are living only with one parent. Like Yuli, Ibet, Alicia and Shally. And some other ones I'm sure I don't know about.
And then there are the ones whose parents are having marriage problems. The kids don't talk about that one very much, but sometimes I know of one or another. The one breaking my heart right now is Magna. Magna is one of my fourth graders - a precious, sweet, serious girl. She struggles in English, but lately, I've noticed her improving, at least in her participation in class and her ability to understand what I'm saying and translate it. The last week or so, she's been coming to school noticeably very sad. Wednesday we had a school outing to celebrate PROMESA's fourth anniversary. I noticed she looked upset, so I asked her "Magna, are you okay?" She told me she was sad. I asked her what was wrong. "Profe (that is what the kids call their teachers here, in general)", she said, "Have you ever lived with your parents fighting all the time?" My heart broke for her as I hugged her.
And yet, in my mind, I keep coming back to this verse. He carries the lambs in His arms. God is the one taking care of these little ones and He is the one who puts His arms around them when they are scared or sad or lonely or angry. I looked the verse up in Quechua this morning. Not that I understand that much Quechua, but sometimes I find it interesting to read verses in another language or version. It brings new light to the verses. More or less, between my little understanding and a handy-dandy Quechua-Spanish dictionary, I pieced together that this verse says that God carries the little ones in his arms, on his chest. As I thought about those phrases, it struck me as such a beautiful picture of intimacy and deep love. He carries them on his chest, right on his heart. Yes, Jesus carries my little ones on His heart. Even though I can't always be there when their parents are fighting or when they're lonely or sad or angry, Jesus is there carrying them on His heart. What a beautiful picture.
I also like the last phrase of the verse - "He gently leads those that have young". Okay, so I might not be a parent, but I feel like I have young, since I regularly have 33 in my care. Sometimes it feels overwhelming. And then there's Jesus, right there, reminding me that He is gently caring for those who have young. Like me. Like those who are parents. Like all who are responsible for the upbringing of little ones. There He is, shepherding, caring, comforting, being tender with those responsible for their young.
So lately, I've really loved this verse. It's such a beautiful picture of intimacy and God's help and concern for those who are vulnerable. No matter who on this earth lets them down, I want my students to know and learn that God is always there holding them to His chest and wrapping them in His arms.

A Rainy Snow Day and a Loooooong Bike Ride

2008-10-08T22:09:00.002-04:00

Every once in a while, we have what we missionaries affectionately like to call "snow days". They are days when those who work in public transportation decide to go on strike for some reason or another (usually protesting the cost of living increases or other such things). They don't really do anything, honestly. But they keep happening anyway. Well, no one can get to school on those days, so we have off. Yesterday was a paro day, one we knew about in advance. So we decided to ride out to Lucre from San Jeronimo and back on bikes (approximately a 25 mile bike ride). Well...
We began our adventure at the bike rental place in San Jeronimo. There were 11 of us. And then the deaf-mute brother of one of the students at the school invited himself along. So there were 12. We rode out of San Jeronimo around 9, headed towards Saylla. We passed Saylla without any notable incidents and headed towards Tipon. My friend Illary and I got behind. At this point, she was on a bike too big for her, so she was going slower. So we were behind. And then I heard a noise like she was going to sneeze. And then I heard a noise like the bike crashed. So I stopped and sure enough, Illary was on the ground. She wasn't hurt, just a bit scared. So we managed to get her back on the bike, though it took some doing. And we headed into Tipon. Coming into Tipon, we saw people gathered on the street protesting who knows what. Illary was like "Oh no! What are we going to do? I'm going to have to get off my bike and how am I going to get back on?" Well, I dismounted and walked my bike through to the other side. Illary was going to use a low cement wall along the side of the road as support to climb back on her bike, but there were people sitting on it. A policeman noticed her predicament and offered to help. So she came out on the other side too and he helped her get back on her bike. To the sound of the cheers of people in Tipon, we rode off together to Oropesa. On the road between Tipon and Oropesa, as we laughed about the situation and Illary recovered her dignity, it began to rain. As we rode into Oropesa, we saw the rest of our group stopped along the side of the road at a bakery (Oropesa calls itself Peru's bread capital...and they do have really good bread). So we stopped. Rain showers in Peru usually don't last very long, so we figured we'd buy bread and wait out the rain. Which is what we did. Predictably, after about 10-15 minutes, the rain stopped and we began again. Shortly after leaving Oropesa, right after I had just told Ron (another missionary) "I really like this bike!", I began hearing a funny noise. Turns out there was glass on the road and a nice big sliver decided it was in the mood to puncture a tire. The deaf-mute brother (Joel) removed my tire, put it on his handlebars and began to ride out to Huacarpay, where we knew there was a tire place. Along came a taxi, so Illary (who was tired because now she was riding a bike that was way too small for her), flagged it down, hopped in, we put the bike in the back, and off she went to Huacarpay. The last mile or so, I rode the little bike to Huacarpay. By the time we got there, the tire was fixed and my bike was back in commission. We went from there to Lucre, where 3 of the youth from the Huacarpay Mennonite church joined us. We had a delicious meal of fresh fried trout at the house of Pastor Eloy, the pastor of the Lucre Mennonite church, who also has a fish farm.
While we were in Lucre, relaxing and enjoying our trout, it decided to rain. We decided to wait it out as long as we could. Just as we decided that we really needed to go to get back in time and started getting onto our bikes, the rain stopped. We made it back to Huacarpay without incidents and decided to split up on the way home so everyone could go at their own pace.
Coming in to Oropesa, Mari, Illary and I, who were all traveling together, met up with Shannon and Carrie. Apparently, the same patch of glass which had been the undoing of my tire earlier in the day, also decided that Shannon's tire looked pretty inviting. Luckily, there was a tire place in Oropesa as well, so she was getting her tire fixed. The 5 of us continued on to Tipon, without incident, then back to Saylla, where Shannon and Carrie went on ahead. By this time, Illary, on her wrong-size bike (too small), was exhausted. Mari was determined to get back to San Jeronimo, by hook or by crook, and I was determined to not leave Illary behind. So we became traveling buddies. By this time, it was getting dark. Between Saylla and San Jeronimo, it officially got dark and began to rain. But we were still determined. Walking for a lot of the time, waiting for Illary, and praying for protection, we arrived on the outskirts of San Jeronimo. We traded bikes one final time, Illary taking mine, which was much more her size, and me taking the little one. And so, at 7:00, we rolled into San Jeronimo and made it back to the bike rental place, exhausted and sore, but very much proud of ourselves and our accomplishment.
It was a great day, a day of learning how much determination can really do, a day of being the one determined not to leave someone behind, a day of enjoying adventures and rain and exercise and just doing something different. I'm not sure I'm necessarily ready to do another 25-mile bike ride again for a little while and I'm still tired, but it was definitely a great way to spend a "snow day". And a great sense of accomplishment.

Unexpectedness

2008-10-03T22:51:00.003-04:00

I never quite know exactly what to expect when the kids come in the mornings and I start interacting with them. Who's in a good mood? Who needs a hug? Who's crying and why? What will the day be like in third grade? What are my kids going to say in class? It all changes from day to day. This week I had lots of those unexpected moments.
Tuesday and Wednesday were great days with third grade. After a frustrating last few months, it was a blessing to be able to go home at the end of the day and say "Wow, I had a great day with third grade today!". One of the most encouraging parts of that was that they behaved excellently while I read them a skit about Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego and Daniel that I am hoping to do with them, since we're studying entertainment this month. Unexpected. Wonderful. An answer to prayer. And I am reminded again that God is good and hears my cries to Him.
Thursday was my brother's birthday. I casually happened to mention it to my fourth graders. And they got all excited and wanted to write him a letter. So we spent half of our English class time composing a letter to Ben and taking a picture of us to put with it. Looking at the pictures tonight that Marysol patiently took for me, I realized how hard it is to get 13 kids to all look at the camera at the same time with all their faces showing. (Yes, I can hear all of you parents laughing right now). Oh, and don't tell anyone how many kids we fit on a sliding board at once. I counted 8. There aren't rules about things like that here.
Thursday was also Meylin's birthday - one of my third graders. So I went to third grade during recess. We sang to her and ate a cake that her mom had brought in. It was a fun but unexpected treat which we all enjoyed.
Another funny unexpected moment this week was Elias (the only boy sitting at the top of the slide in this picture) deciding to call kangaroos "I don't understands". I off-handedly, just for fun, explained to fourth grade the other day that kangaroo, in the language of the Australian aborigines, means "I don't understand". Apparently, at least according to what I've heard, the first English to come to Australia asked what this crazy jumping animal was called. The Aborigines, of course, understood as much English as the Englishmen understood of their language and replied "kangaroo" - I don't understand. The result of this classic Babel moment is that the name stuck and thus we have the kangaroo. It made me laugh the other day when Elias pointed to a picture of a kangaroo and said "Look, Miss Bethany! It's an 'I don't understand'!"
Today I had another unexpected moment when Jonatan decided to chew on his colored pencil lead and paint his mouth different colors...again. Today it was orange and then black. I thought we'd gotten over that. Apparently, I was overly optimistic on that one. That was a not-so-pleasant unexpected moment. Yes, there are definitely that kind too!
These unexpected moments are what make teaching interesting, fun and special and keep me on my toes. They are the spice of life in an elementary school. Mostly, I enjoy them. Well, the good ones anyway. Many times, these unexpected moments are what allow me to see the humanness in my students and see them again, not as little minds to fill with as much knowledge as possible in the few hours I have, but as great little people. These little bits of time in my day knock my brain off its task-oriented track and remind me again how much I love these kids. And many times in these moments I see God's grace and hand at work.
So thank You God for the unexpected and for sending it into my day to help me see again with Your eyes.

Little miracles

2008-09-27T09:35:00.002-04:00

It's the little miracles that happen every once in a while that convince me that we're not working in vain and that some day these kids really can grow up to be strong men and women of God. Like yesterday.
I walked in to third grade during recess and the kids were eager to announce to me that Alejandra was crying (Honestly, in third grade, I have 21 pairs of eyes....mine and 20 other pairs always jumping to tell me when they see something). I asked why and somehow they all knew that Lucero had said something about Alejandra's dad and that's why she was crying (news travels fast in third grade as well). So I went to talk to the two girls. Alejandra was indeed crying...maybe sobbing is a better word. Through tears she managed to tell me that Lucero had said something mean about her dad and she was very hurt. Lucero then told me that Alejandra had said mean things about her, although she couldn't remember what at first. So we talked about saying nice things to each other and how we need to be kind in our words and actions, etc. I wrote a note home to Lucero's parents and Alejandra seemed to be feeling better, so I left them to their own devices.
I had brought a birthday cake in to celebrate two birthdays that hadn't gotten recognized yet. I told Lucero that because of what happened between her and Alejandra, she couldn't have a piece of cake. So we sang and then I began to cut the cake. We distributed pieces to the students one by one. When Alejandra came to take her piece, she said "I'll take Lucero's piece too". I reminded her that I had told Lucero she couldn't have a piece because of what had happened. "Oh no," she told me "We said we're sorry and forgave each other. It's okay now". (No, I didn't ask them to do that). I could tell she really meant it. "Okay," I said. "So do you want Lucero to have a piece of cake?" She paused to think it over for a second. "Yes", she replied, and went back to her seat with the two pieces of cake in her hands, one for her and one for Lucero.
Silently, inside, I was amazed and rejoicing. We're trying to teach our students to respect each other and be like Jesus, but so often it seems like a losing battle because the way of the cross is so counter-human and counter-cultural. Every once in a while I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and God gives me hope. It's in those little miracles that I see that God really is working and that all of this is not in vain. Go God!

Ideas...

2008-09-24T22:47:00.002-04:00

It seems odd to me that at least twice now, I have gotten good ideas that worked for my third grade class while in the middle of corporate prayer and worship. I could understand it if it was just me and God and I'm asking for the ideas. But while I'm supposed to be concentrated on praying with a group or worshipping? Well, I'm still trying to figure that one out.
But they come anyway, unbidden, filling my mind with plans and thoughts and wondering if they really will work.
And then this morning I had another idea. A big one. Really big. What if I write scripts for my third graders and we make our own TV programming, based on Bible stories? That's what our next unit is about. It sounds like fun...at least to me. A lot of work, but definitely fun.
These ideas are exciting. I enjoy them. They make me energized and excited. But they're also kind of scary. What if they don't work? What if I'm overestimating my students? What if they're too big?
And yet, you never really know until you try. You can live life doubting, scared and never willing to step out and act on things. Or you can grab life by the horns and take everything out of it that you possibly can, trusting in God to take over where you come to an end.
And so I take the leap of faith and trust that there are arms bigger, a creativity larger, a God wiser and more loving than I can possibly know. A God who is big enough to give me big dreams and ideas and big enough to help me make them happen. A God who is stronger and wiser than I am. A God who is more amazing than I can imagine.
Cause at the end of the day, no matter what happens or doesn't happen in English class, that's what really matters. So Jesus, I trust in You. I trust in Your goodness. I trust in Your strength.

crazy times...

2008-09-04T20:21:00.002-04:00

Sorry it's been so long...
The last few weeks have been crazy and I have had neither time, energy nor motivation to write on here. Okay, so the last you knew was that there was a possibility that one of the teachers would leave PROMESA. Sadly, that happened, for reasons beyond anyone's control. It was hard to see her go. We're hoping she'll be able to come back next year and teach again. 2 days before Luz left, Leo walked in off the street, said he'd heard that we were looking for a teacher and wondered when he could schedule an interview. It just so happened that Ron had free time right then (some sort of minor miracle), so they did the interview on the spot. To make a long story short, we now have a new third grade teacher and Ron has some male companionship on the teaching team.
The downside to Luz leaving (besides the fact that she isn't here anymore) is that it was very hard for the kids. Because of all the uncertainty that accompanied her leaving, the students didn't actually even know until the morning of her last day. I think that made it even harder for them. They expressed a lot of feelings of rejection, fear, anger, sadness, and insecurity over the days following her leaving. Some of those feelings came out in increased measures of bad behavior. The first week was the worst and they've been gradually getting better since then.
I think it's been a combination of many things that have made the last few weeks difficult. The middle of the year has come and gone. Things that have been bugging me over the last few months (talking in class, not doing homework, playing with things in their desks during class, etc) have built up to a frustration level. One of my students has some emotional and behavioral needs that are beyond what I can help in the middle of class with 20 students. I'm spending a lot of time working and planning. I'm tired.
And yet, in the middle of all this, I have found God's grace to be so great. I have been amazed and in awe of it so many times. I have been finding new depths of grace as I need more of it. And it has been beautiful.
This past week has been easier. I had a very relaxing weekend. I got a lot of exercise, which felt good. I got a guitar, so I've been playing and worshipping with that this week. And then, on top of that, on Monday and Wednesday, there was a transportation strike and we didn't have school either day. Those two days, I had some time to spend with friends and get some things done. And I had a break from nixy kids. So I am feeling better and I feel like I have more hope.
September is here. And with it comes the rainy season and the coming of spring. I felt today like maybe with the coming of a new season outside will come a new season in the classroom as well.
So I will keep pressing on and living in the middle of God's grace, learning more about Him.

Why Snakes are Wise

2008-08-11T22:24:00.003-04:00

I discovered a treasure the other day. The Museo Inca (Inca Museum) off the Plaza de Armas is well worth the small entrance fee. There is a wealth of information contained therein. My friend Alicia is studying tourism and was working at the Museo Inca for a while. Saturday was her last day there, so she took my friend Marisol, Carrie and I around the museum. It was a great learning experience. There were many things that I learned (several that really stuck out to me), and one I wanted to share.
The Inca trinity of animals that they worshipped were the condor, the puma and the snake. The condor was representative of the heavens and of freedom. The puma was representative of the earth and of strength. And the snake was representative of the underworld and of wisdom. I naively assumed I knew why the snake represented wisdom (after all...now the snake was more cunning than all the other creatures God had created, right?). But when Alicia asked why we thought, that wasn't it. She proceeded to explain why the snake represents wisdom.
Gliding her hand from side to side, curving back and forth, she represented the movement of the snake. The snake, she explained, represents wisdom because it moves back and forth, weaving in and out. In the same way, as we go throughout life, moving back and forth, going in and out among many various people and interactions, we gain wisdom. Just like the snake goes back and forth, so do we and as we do, we gain wisdom.
I'd never thought about it that way before, but when she said it, it made perfect sense. Often I realize that life is a process here. In order to do anything, it seems there is a process to do and prerequisites that need to happen first. And I weave in and out, back and forth. And many times, in the process, there are interactions with other people. Weaving in and out, back and forth, gaining wisdom. Might not be anything profound or life-changing, but there are always interactions, always experiences. There is always this moving in and out, back and forth, collecting, gleaning, learning, experiencing. And so wisdom is gained and things are learned. In and out, back and forth, ever gliding on, like the snake.
And that is why, at least in the worldview of the Incas, snakes personify wisdom.

PROMESA wish list

2008-08-10T17:59:00.002-04:00

Let me give you a wish list for PROMESA (in other words some items for prayer), as we go back for the second half of the school year:
1) A third grade teacher - Luz, our third grade teacher, just informed Ron over the break that she will be back for one week after break and then she is leaving us to take another job. It's a very complicated situation and I'm not sure anyone really understands it completely (besides Luz). But anyway, we need a third grade teacher (or wisdom to know if throwing another teacher into the mix isn't the best idea for whatever reason).
2) A director - Luz is also the director of the school, so now we need to find someone else to fill that role. A Peruvian is pretty much necessary because of understanding the educational system and all the paperwork, etc.
3) Creativity and flexibility for the rest of us - until we get another teacher (if we decide that's the best option for everyone), the rest of us need to cover the third grade classes. Ron and I may have to cover third grade for a while, which will require massive amounts of creativity and also extra energy.
4) Land for the school - we are rapidly outgrowing our facilities in the San Jeronimo church building. And we are expanding every year. We are starting to feel that the church is ready for us to move out and find our own space. This would also help us to feel more established and stable as a school. It is hard for teachers to feel they have job security since we are so small and don't have our own place, etc.
At this point, I think that's my wish list for PROMESA. It's going to be an interesting rest of our school year. PROMESA, PROMESA, God shed His grace on thee.

Felices Fiestas Patrias

2008-07-28T10:57:00.005-04:00

Happy Peruvian Independence Day! Today, July 28, is the official date, though celebrations have been going on for several days now and will continue for at least one more after today. Most people are off work today and all the schools suspend classes for today and tomorrow. Throughout the last few weeks in schools all around Cusco, students have been practicing traditional dances to celebrate the special occasion. PROMESA is no exception to this. The classroom teachers (those who teach in Spanish) and Carrie have all been working very diligently to teach their students dances from the three geographic regions of Peru: coast, mountains and jungle. Shannon, Marisol (the computer teacher) and I were put in charge of decorations since we didn't have classes to teach dances to. Every spare minute (and some not so spare ones) was spent learning the steps of the dances. Traditional clothing can be rented here in a number of little stores. Since this is a high-demand time of year, the price was 8 soles a person (roughly $2.50 - $3 American). Normally, it's about 7. At El Molino (think the number of stores in a typical American mall, one right next to the other, each one about 3 meters long by 4 meters tall by 3 meters deep - roughly - jam packed floor to ceiling with stuff) you can buy pirated DVDs of traditional music and dances for a little over 1 sol (roughly $.50 American). So that's what the teachers did, since having someone come teach the kids would have been very expensive and out of PROMESA's budget. Everyone did really well. There were PowerPoint slide shows about the various regions of Peru, highlighting some of the flora, fauna, typical foods, and typical dances. And then there were the dances. These kids can really dance! Oh of course, it wasn't perfect. There were wiggly kids. And there were kids who just plain didn't want to cooperate. And there were kids who forgot what they were supposed to say. But I was proud of them! They did a great job.
For your viewing pleasure, here are some pictures of the program. Ron (the missionary who works with the school) taught the elementary students all how to sing "We Want to See Jesus Lifted High" in English and Spanish. I filmed it on my camera, but it's too big to put on here, so here's a link to YouTube where you can see that, if you're interested.
Also, just in case you were ever curious, here is a link to learn about and hear the Peruvian national anthem
This comes with a warning, however. It usually gets stuck in my head and then I go around the house...or the school...or walking down the street...singing it. :)

The pictures are as follows (sorry, Blogger doesn't let me put captions directly with the pictures): Top: Aaron, one of my fourth graders, holding the flag while the parents sang the national anthem.
Kindergarteners dancing the marinera from the coast
Second graders dancing from the coast
Some of the third grade girls dancing from the jungle.
First graders (the little girls with the colorful caterpillar-like things) dancing from the mountain region
Four-year-olds (dressed like animals) dance about life in the jungle
Katy and Nurieth, two of my fourth graders, ready to dance. Katy danced the boys' part because fourth grade has 8 girls and 5 boys.
My third grade boys show their true colors pretending to be jungle natives. Sometimes they act like it in class too! :)
Fourth graders dancing (they're the ones with the big hats with straw on them).
And for those of you who miss seeing my face, here is a picture of me with Crhisnna, one of my fourth graders.

Blessed

2008-07-17T20:52:00.002-04:00

I read a quote once: "You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God." That quote would pretty well sum up this last week or two of teaching. We've now been in school for almost 5 months and the mid year, 2-week break is coming up after the end of next week. I think it's time. I think the kids think it's time too.
The last few weeks, I have come to the end of my rope. I have discovered that in myself, I don't have the patience I need to be a teacher. I have discovered that in myself I don't have the love for my students that I need to have. They do things. They bug me. They get under my skin. And then...well, let's just say teaching's not quite as fun then. But in this discovery, I've also discovered something else. God does have the grace and patience, love and creativity that I need in order to work with my kids. When mine is all spent, I can rely on His. And it seems the more spent mine is, the more His kicks in.
Take Tuesday for example. Monday and Tuesday were not very good days with third grade, especially. I was trying to be patient. I was trying to be loving. But it's hard when you feel like you're talking to yourself because no one else is listening. And then to top it all of, on Tuesday, right before leaving to come home, I realized that two boxes of crayons were missing from my desk. That did it. I came home furious.
"God," I complained, "I work and work. I spend so much time planning and thinking and trying to come up with creative ideas to work with these kids. And it's like they throw it back in my face. I make stuff and it gets destroyed. God, this isn't fair!" And then, ever so gently, He reminded me that, hmmmm......sometimes I do the very same thing to Him. And how does He respond versus how I tend to respond? And then, He gave me His presence and peace. The next morning, I arrived at school still quite upset and not quite sure I was ready to face a room full of 20 third graders. And again, God was faithful to take over where my rope ended. As I stood before 20 wiggly 7 and 8 year olds, God gave me this incredible calm and lack of frustration. I was able to explain to them what had happened and how we wouldn't be able to work on a specific project until the crayons were found and returned to my desk. And you know, they stopped being wiggly third graders and they paid attention! That was the turning point for the week so far in my interactions with third grade.
Wednesday came and went an there were no crayons revealed. I was wondering if they would in fact show up in the end. But lo and behold, Miriam found the last 5 crayons this afternoon in a box of papers and things.
Throughout the last couple of weeks, God has made it apparently clear in many situations that I need to rely on Him instead of my own strength. I don't have what it takes to be an amazing teacher and to reach students. But, as He keeps reminding me, He does have the strength, grace and peace that I need and that He will only give it to me if I ask.
So maybe I am at the end of my rope. But I've been so blessed by receiving from God the last few weeks. Not that I want third grade to be bad just so I can receive more from God...heaven forbid!) But I've been finding God to be incredibly faithful in the midst of all that's going on. I've realized how much I need to lean on Him and trust Him.
Paul said something similar in 2 Cor. 12.9, where God says to him, "My grace is sufficuent for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness". It's my life verse and I think it's becoming more and more so the longer I live and the more times I can feel God's presence with me when I'm clinging for all I'm worth to the very end of my rope. We truly serve an amazing God!

Manuela´s Miracle

2008-07-13T17:28:00.002-04:00

I guess you could call it a miracle. You may remember the other week, I shared about Manuela and Valentin, two older members of my church in Huacarpay. They had gotten married, but they had to push up their wedding a week because Manuela was not doing well and no one was sure how much time she had left.
Well, Manuela is still very much alive. And what´s more, she´s getting better! Manuela has cancer. From what I understand, it started in her eye. But it´s spread throughout her whole body now. The doctors say there´s really nothing they can do for her. So she´s living with cancer. For a long time now, her face has been covered with ugly scabby wounds, supposedly from the cancer. And she has a quite large wound in her eye where she has the cancer. It is always covered with a clean gauze pad, thanks to several of the women from the church. The last few weeks, the wounds on her face have actually been getting better and the scabs have been falling off! Her skin is, in the words of Ines, the pastor´s wife, like a baby´s. And indeed, when I saw her this morning, she looked much better. Someone quoted her husband as saying, "She´s getting pretty!".
And that´s not all. After church, some of us were discussing it again and someone said that now she can actually see out of her bad eye and that apparently it´s getting better, or at least better than it had been. Someone said this morning that Manuela said the other day that now she really believes in the power of God because she´s seeing it first hand.
It´s been exciting to see Manuela´s miracle and to know that God is reaching down to her tiny house in her tiny village in the middle of Peru and is touching her body and bringing restoration to her. What an amazing Father!

Life as normal

2008-07-09T10:14:00.004-04:00

I've often wondered what normal is. I've begun to think it's a social construct. Normal depends on where you are and what society around you says. Often I think "Oh, there's not much to write about. Life is going on as normal". And then I realize that normal here is different from normal in the States. So I thought I'd write about normal life here in Peru to give you an idea of what normal is like for me these days. Peru is a relationship-oriented culture, which means that spending time with people occupies a lot of my days. Often these times with friends happen very spontaneously, thus inciting the comment from John Kreider, a fellow missionary, that here in Peru, things are set in Jello, as opposed to cement.
Case in point, I began this blog entry this morning, then received a call from one of my friends inviting me to go play racquetball with her and some other friends. Since today was a transportation strike, I walked for an hour and a half to get there, then wandered around being lost until I found them and played racquetball for about an hour before having to head home for a missionary team meeting. Now it's evening and I'm still updating my blog. :)
If you'd look at my proposed agenda in my head at the beginning of the week, it would look very different from what actually happens by the end of the week. A typical day in my mental agenda looks like this: wake up, go to school, come home from school, spend time with Marga doing what needs to be done around the house, work on schoolwork, go to bed. However, a typical day generally actually goes somewhat more like this: wake up, go to school, at school learn that someone wants to do something together in the afternoon or needs help with English, come home from school, do something with someone, do a little schoolwork, go to bed.
But there are many blessings that come with being a part of such a culture. Sometimes these times of spending time with people doing whatever we're doing are the best times to really get to know someone and/or make memories. The other week, I came home from school and Marga asked me to help her make wedding cakes for a wedding that was to be the next day. Valeria, who was supposed to make the cakes, had to travel, so she had asked Marga to make the cakes. Valeria has a large wood-fueled oven in her house, so we could bake them all at once and do it very quickly. So we went to Valeria's house, where we met up with about 4 other people. Working together, we mixed up 10 large cakes in a very short amount of time. Then we stuck them in the oven. 5 minutes later we quickly took them out of the oven because the oven was way too hot and the tops burned black in the short amount of time that they were in there. We covered them with wet pieces of paper and finished baking them. As they came out of the oven and cooled, Frida cut the burned parts of them off with a knife. They turned out fine! But it was definitely a bonding experience for all of us. We had lots of laughs trying to figure out how to fix our problem and what we were going to tell Valeria.
And then there was the conversation I had with Marisol the other week, walking from school to where she needed to get a combi to go home. We were able to share from the heart as we walked along, eating popsicles. It was totally a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment thing, but it was so great! Another day the same week, Marisol asked me for help with English, so we went downtown and ate pizza, then spent a while working on English. She also decided she wanted to get her hair cut, so the next evening we went downtown again and spent time at our friend Norma's styling salon.
And then Juana calls sometimes wanting help with English homework. So she'll come over and we'll spend more time talking and catching up with where each other's at and what's going on than actually working on English.
When I'm in Huacarpay the same phenomenon happens. I have yet to get out to Huacarpay and right off the bat have worship team practice. I doubt it will ever happen. I usually get there and no one's at the church. So I walk down to Rene's house, where something is always going on. This past week I got there only to find her in the midst of making her son's birthday lunch for the next day (which I had no idea about but ended up going to). Once that was finished, then we had worship team practice. And then I usually go back to Pastor Celestino and Ines's house and crash there for the night, spending time with their family.
Living life relationally is very different from living life in a planned, structured way. Sometimes I wish I'd have more time to work on schoolwork. But then I think about all I'd miss out on if my mental agenda looked more like my actual agenda. And then I decide I'm really actually glad that I live in this new kind of normal, where people come first and relationships are forged in the midst of these spontaneous times of togetherness. It's a blessing and the energy I pour out is more than replaced by the energy generated by friendship and fellowship.
So when I say my life is normal, what I really mean to say is that I am forging relationships in the midst of this culture and feeling very blessed to have the opportunity to do so.

There will be great rejoicing...

2008-07-07T20:30:00.002-04:00

She walked up to the front of the church. A tiny country church trying to bridge the changing cultures of the Andes and modern Western culture, a mixture of young people in jeans who speak mostly Spanish and older people in more Andean styles who speak more Quechua. I know her. I danced with her at the church service. Her name is Gabriela. It surprises me to see her here, now. Humbly, brokenly, she announced her desire to accept Jesus into her heart. With tears streaming down her cheeks and her voice catching in her throat, she prayed, standing up front with Pastor Celestino and his wife Ines. And Jesus came. Just like the song we sang in Quechua earlier in the morning, which Ines translated roughly for me: "As he was going to the cross, Jesus said to me, 'I'm dying so that you don't have to'". Joy filled my heart as I listened to her pray and as I felt the Holy Spirit's presence there. As Gabriela prayed, another woman came down the aisle. Gently supported by two others, she came, clutching a crutch, limping badly. Juana, sitting beside me, explained that this woman was pregnant and didn't take care of herself. About a month ago, she gave birth and hasn't been well since. A chair was brought and she sat at the front of the church, expressing the same desires as Gabriela. The church extended hands of blessing and healing over her. As I was praying for her, I was reminded of the story of the healing of the paralytic from Mark 2. It was preached about several times recently and what stuck out to me was Jesus' question: "Which is more difficult: to say 'Your sins are forgiven' or to say 'Take up your bed and walk'?" For us as humans, both are equally difficult. However, for God, both are equally possible. I would have loved to see her be healed physically. That didn't happen, but she went away from church yesterday with a far greater healing. She was healed spiritually. God must have a greater plan...
All I know is that, slowly but surely, the kingdom of God is expanding in Peru and God is bringing precious souls into His kingdom, for His glory and for the praise of His name.

My weekend in Huacarpay

2008-06-15T18:34:00.004-04:00

After praying about how I could get involved with my church in Huacarpay and talking with some others, I decided to get involved in the worship ministry. Because of the dance and other things that I was involved in, I haven't been able to begin my ministry with them until this weekend. And what a weekend it was. Because Huacarpay is a relatively good distance from my house and it's not necessarily safe for me to travel by myself back home at night, a trip to Huacarpay at any time after about 5 PM usually involves staying overnight there. This trip did.
Worship team practice starts at 6 PM on Saturday night. So around 5:15 I left my house with backpack and violin in tow, ready to spend the weekend out in Huacarpay. I got on a bus that completely freaked me out, because it was just me and the driver the entire way (20 minutes or so from my house) out to Huacarpay. Normally, the bus is quite full (to say the least) and there is, in addition to the driver, a cobrador who collects the bus fares from everyone. I was praying quite fervently and singing worship songs to calm my nerves. I also had the sense that someone was praying for me right then too. If someone was impressed to pray for me at around 6:30 PA time on June 14th, I'd love to know about it. Honestly, the driver could have done anything, if he'd have had a mind to. I definitely felt the presence of God on that trip.
After an uneventful, though unnerving trip out to Huacarpay, I arrived at church 10 minutes early, only to find that I was the only one there. So I walked down the street to Hermana Rene´s house (who is also on the worship team). Practice ended up happening around her table around 8:00, after a yummy supper and some good fellowship time.
Sunday morning I got to play with the worship team for the first time. It was a blessing to be up there with the rest of the team, praising God in Spanish, Quechua and violin. I was blessed also to have the privilege of seeing the miraculous and beautiful, if simple, wedding of Valentin and Manuela.
Valentin and Manuela are two older people - probably in their seventies. They are very poor and have quite an interesting story. They, as many people do here, have been living together without being married for years and years. Manuela was diagnosed several years ago with cancer and it has spread through her body. It´s just a matter of time, the doctors say. She has cancer in her eye as well and wears a patch over the eye. The church has a strong health program in Huacarpay and a health representative from the church has been working with her for about 2 years now, changing the eye patch. Through the witness of the church and the health representative, Manuela has come to know Jesus. At the beginning of this year Valentin, who used to be a witch, got some kind of infection in his foot, which spread to his leg and became infected to the bone. My friend Juana, who´s a nurse and the director of the Mennonite church health program, worked with him and gradually, miraculously, his leg was healed to the point where he can now walk on it and the wound is very small. Through the witness of Juana and another woman from the church, Valentin also came to know Jesus and dedicated his life to Jesus during a worship service this March. Last weekend he was baptized and he and Manuela expressed a desire to follow through with Jesus´commands and be married. The wedding was scheduled for this coming Sunday. However, last week, Manuela was very bad and in a lot of pain from the cancer. It was decided that it would be a good idea for them to get married now, before her mind succumbs to the influence of the cancer and she loses her rational powers. So on Sunday, as part of the worship service, Valentin and Manuela became husband and wife in a ceremony that lasted all of about 3 minutes and was entirely in Quechua (translated: I hardly understood any of it). Now Manuela and Valentin are ready to meet Jesus, thanks to the witness of the church in Huacarpay. It was the most simple and unpretentious wedding I have ever been to, but also one of the most beautiful. Which just goes to show that God truly does make all things beautiful in His time and through His servants.

I like to eat pizza

2008-06-14T15:49:00.003-04:00

This has been quite a popular phrase in fourth grade English class the last few weeks. It all started when I asked the question "What do you like to do?" We made a whole list of things on the board - swim, dance, sing, go on trips, fly...
And then André said it: "I like to eat pizza".
Innocent enough. Simple enough. But I had no idea how those 5 words would define the next few weeks of English class. After that, things were never the same. Every day, someone would ask me "When can we make pizza in English class?" Sara said it. Ronaldo said it. Josua said it. No doubt about it - my fourth graders were going to mutiny if I denied them the opportunity to make pizza in English class. We were coming to the end of the current unit. "Maybe next month", I told them. "Maybe isn't good enough", Josua informed me. "What do you like to do", I asked on the English test. "I like is eat pizza", Sara wrote in response. I laughed out loud while grading the test, beginning to feel like the unjust judge, plagued by the widow who just would not let him alone until he did what she was asking him to do! :) (Luke 18)
And then I found it. My lifesaver! The next unit I had planned was on ancient history, focusing on Rome and Egypt. Beautifully, wonderfully, Rome happens to be in Italy, which happens to be the birthplace of pizza. As I was looking through the teacher's manual, I realized there was even a lesson on food likes, dislikes and preferences! I came to class armed with the good news. And we finally decided on a date. Tuesday, June 3 was going to be Pizza Day. Then they stopped asking and waited in eager anticipation. At last, the day came. I came to school with a market bag full of pizza supplies - bread, sauce, cheese, mushrooms, sausages, mayonnaise. Mayonnaise? On pizza? Oh yes, Peruvians are very fond of mayonnaise and I do believe that every single pizza (except for mine) had mayonnaise on it. That was Aarón's suggestion. Someone else suggested sausages (salchichas). I burst out laughing when Ada Sol, in a voice pregnant with deep longing, crooned "Ah...salchiiiichas...". They went in my bag too. Armed and ready, I entered fourth grade. The excitement level in that classroom that day was extraordinarily high. I was thankful that Dawn Weaver, one of my friends, who also happened to be a missionary in Peru for three years and the English teacher for this class last year, was visiting and offered to help out that day as well. There are three groups of four and one single desk in the classroom. So I invited them to come up three at a time, while the rest of the students looked at English and bilingual books I pulled from the school library. I was determined to make this an educational experience as well, so we focused on several phrases: "What would you like?" "Would you like __?", "I would like ___.", "Yes, please." and "No, thank you." The kids only speak English if they absolutely have to (I'm trying to change that one), but they did pretty well with it. At the end of the class there were 12 very happy students (one was absent, unfortunately) and lots of little pizzas (2 for everyone) ready to go into the church's oven downstairs.
The students still had to sit through two more 45-minute blocks of classes before recess, when they could finally eat their pizzas. When Dawn and I came up during recess with four trays of pizzas, we were met with many excited fourth graders who couldn't wait to eat their pizzas (after all, they'd been waiting for about three weeks for this). Lots of them even wanted to take one home to show and share with their families. The kids did amazingly well and the entire day was a great success. It was a wonderful bonding experience and I think I enjoyed it as much as they did! :) I grabbed some pictures. Enjoy! Provecho! (Spanish for "enjoy your food").
In order, the pictures are as follows:
Josua, André and Sara making pizzas
Miss Nancy (the fourth grade teacher), Nurieth and Ronaldo making pizzas.
One tray of pizzas ready to go into the oven (the white stringy stuff is the mayonnaise)
Crhisnna, Magna, Ada Sol and Alicia eating pizza
Josua, Sara and André eating pizza
If you'd like to see more pictures, I have some on faceb ook. Click here to see them.

Why Bears Hibernate

2008-06-06T22:20:00.002-04:00

I now understand why bears feel the need to hibernate in the wintertime. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea in the mornings, when the temperature under the three blankets on my bed is considerably different than the temperature of the air that hits my nose as it peeks out from under said blankets. Winter is its own culture here. I don't know how many times over the past few weeks I've heard someone say "Qué frío está haciendo!" (It's so cold!) I learned this week that there is even a mandatory special school schedule here during winter. Beginning this coming Monday, classes at PROMESA will begin at 8:20 instead of 8:00. Judging by the fact that many fewer school children are riding the combis in the morning as I am heading to school, I am guessing that most of the schools in Cusco have already begun their winter schedule. The extra 20 minutes is designed to allow children to not get up quite so early, so the air has a bit more time to warm up before they need to expose their little bodies to it and get ready for school. Since every good Peruvian knows that if your body gets cold, you will get some sort of cold or flu or your stomach will hurt or something, keeping warm is an absolute must.
Much to the surprise of every Peruvian to whom I tell this, winter here actually doesn't get as cold as winter in Pennsylvania. It's usually in the 30s when I wake up in the mornings. However, due to the fact that indoor heating is nonexistent here, the temperature inside when the sun is not out is usually somewhere around 50-55 degrees. During the day, however, it is quite warm in the sun - at least 70s. A fellow missionary remarked the other week that she now knows, after having lived in Cusco in the winter, why the Incans worshipped the sun. It feels so good when it comes out!
I have discovered something else. Sheep have the right idea. Fleece is great stuff! Granted, the fleece I love is material, not sheepskin, but it's still the same concept... Last night as I slid beneath my fleece sheets (they are a wonderful blessing!), the thought suddenly flitted through my mind that, like the Bible says that we are going from glory to glory, I am going from fleece to fleece. I lay in bed between fleece sheets in the morning, escape from the sheets to the warmth of a fleece top, which I usually wear over my other layers for half the morning or so, till I warm up enough to take it off and just go about with the 2 layers I wear underneath it. At night, the fleece top goes back on (sometimes plus another) and the bottom half of me gets wrapped in a fleece blanket, like the Peruvians do. As soon as I take my fleece off and change into my pajamas, I slip back beneath the fleece sheets and drift off to sleep...
Thank you God for the blessings of winter in Cusco...a warm bed, warm clothing, hot drinks, warm hugs, friends and family here who are constantly making sure I bundle up and keep warm, and 20 extra minutes to sleep in the morning starting on Monday!

Culto Unido

2008-06-06T20:34:00.007-04:00

It has now been a month since you've read an update on my life from this venue. It's been a busy month of teaching, dancing and planning for teaching. This past weekend (June 1) was the annual culto unido of the Mennonite church in Peru. Every year, as many people as can come from all the churches meet in one place, bringing with them their food, culture, and a desire to worship God. It is a beautiful day, a tiny foretaste of "there before me was a multitude of people from every nation, tribe, and tongue standing before the throne (of God)". Each church is requested to bring a special number (dance, worship, skit, etc) to share with everyone. It's a day I always enjoy and look forward to. This year, it was fun to see a number of my students at the service. In the picture are Lucero, Bethany, Alejandra, Diana and Diana's little brother Miguel, who is in Carrie's preschool class.
Being the resident missionaries at the church in Huacarpay, the Huacarpay youth were eager to include Shannon and I in the dance they wanted to prepare. After extensive discussion of what dance we wanted to do, we finally chose one called Pacasito, which, I think is native to the southern coastal region of Peru, where the earthquake hit last year. And we began practicing. Dance practice for me first required learning the steps of the dance - easier said than done! My brain is wired more for language than for dancing. Slowly but surely, with much patience, struggle and time, I began to be able to make my feet do what everyone else's seemed to do so naturally. The Huacarpay church has some serious dance talent! I found it interesting and somewhat humbling that one of my former English students now became my teacher and patiently helped my feet figure out what they were doing. Practice ended up being Friday and Saturday nights for about an hour and a half, with the exception of the last week before the dance, when we practiced every night. Finally, the night before the dance, we went through the entire thing without stopping, exactly like it was going to be the next morning. I have the dance on film. Unfortunately, however, it's too large to upload to Blogger. I was, however, able to upload it to Facebook, for those of you who are able to see it there. I thought I'd be able to send a link so you could all see it there, but unfortunately, I can't. Sorry about that!
The morning was a small piece of what heaven must be like as we all brought our offerings of praise in different tongues and styles before the throne of God and poured them out in worship to Him. Many-colored outfits filled the sanctuary as many voices raised praise to the one, all-powerful God who created such beautiful diversity and fellowship.
The morning also included a message from Merv Charles, making an administrative visit from the EMM offices for the weekend. Another event was the licensing of new pastors (Roberto, Raul and Octavio) and the official presentation of a new leadership team for the national church, a change which has been taking place gradually over the past few months and will become official in June. Since the Peruvian church became its own entity, separate from EMM, in 2001, Pastor Ruben Carrasco has been the president and Pastor Celestino Cutipa (my pastor at Huacarpay) the treasurer. During those 6 years the church has grown considerably and the gospel has been extended to many new places in Peru. However, Pastor Ruben was feeling the need to step down as the president in order to concentrate more on being the pastor of the church in San Jeronimo. So, earlier this year, a new leadership committee was selected for the national Mennonite church of Peru. Pastors Eloy, Roberto, David, and Paulino are joining Pastor Ruben (who is now the secretary) as the members of the leadership council. The official presentation of these leaders, as well as an official thank you to Pastors Ruben and Celestino rounded out the morning's worship service.
But the culto unido is not just a morning worship service. It's an all-day fellowship event. Everyone brings food, picnic blankets, and games. After the service, people break off into small groups, sitting around eating together. After lunch comes the annual huge soccer game with as many people as want to play. My friends and I, however, opted for a rousing game of Dutch Blitz with what ended up being, at its peak, 12 people playing in teams of 2 with 6 decks of cards. Dutch Blitz, you say? Oh yes, apparently, some missionary somewhere along the line decided that this "vonderful goot game" was so vonderful goot that it should be shared with people 3000 miles away from its birthplace. And so Dutch Blitz caught on like wildfire...
At long last, exhausted from playing soccer, warm, thanks to the bright winter sun, full of good food, having worshipped God and enjoyed our time fellowshipping together, we packed up our things and bade farewell to the culto unido until next year.

Feliz Dia de la Madre!

2008-05-09T20:37:00.004-04:00

Today was Mother's Day at PROMESA. The entire school has been working hard for the last week and a half or so preparing skits, poems, songs and gifts for all the mothers. The excitement and anticipation of the Mother's Day program built throughout this week as the students learned parts, memorized songs, and worked on various projects. Not only did the students work hard, but the teachers did too. Much planning time went into the program and much class time was spent practicing for it. Finally, this morning, all our hard work paid off as our little cherubs, scrubbed and shining, presented all the work they had prepared. From fourth grade's skit about head lice all the way to the four year olds saying "I love you Mother", the program was a success for all involved. The students did a great job and the parents really seemed to enjoy it. It's times like these when I realize again how much I really love my students and how proud I am of them. These two short video clips will give you an idea of what I did with my students. I dedicate them with love to my own mom, for all she's done for me and for all the sacrifices she's made for me throughout my life.
Happy Mother's Day to all!

Combi adventures

2008-05-02T22:55:00.003-04:00

One thing that happens to me just about every day (usually several times a day) is riding on a combi. It's quite an adventure, one I actually usually enjoy. A combi is a Peruvian method of public transportation. It's quite economical really, costing anywhere from $.10 to $.20 a ride, depending on how far you're going. A combi is slightly smaller than a 15-passenger van in the States, with seats for about 15-19 people. However, it is not unusual to have between 20-25 passengers aboard at any given time. Let me give you a peek into my transportation to school every morning. Our house is about a block from the end of a combi line (there are various lines that go all over the city). Usually, when I'm ready to head out to school (around 7 AM), there is at least 1 combi getting ready to leave for the day. I climb aboard and wait till the driver figures they have enough passengers to make it worth leaving. I sit as close to the door as possible, since I'll have to get out before long. My bag sits on my lap and my knees stick out into the aisle. The cobrador (the person who collects the money) slides the door shut and we are on our way. As we go down the hill to the main road, we stop for many people who have their arms stuck out, signaling they want to climb aboard with the rest of us. Many of them are students in the uniforms of various schools. The combi fills up quickly and I wonder how I am going to get out the door at the main road, since there are people stuffed in my way, holding on to the metal bars always conveniently attached to the top of the combi. I try to discreetly fish the 30-centimo pasaje (money you pay to ride a combi) out of my money pouch in my bag. As we approach the main street, I call out "Baja pista" (I'm getting off at the highway), and the cobrador sticks a grimy hand out to collect my 30 centimos, simultaneously transferring my message to the driver up front. When we reach the corner of the main street, one or the other of us will usually relay the message to the driver, to make sure he remembers. Then the combi rolls to a stop, the door slides open, and I manage to somehow extricate myself from the mass of humanity crammed between me and the door. I am barely out of the combi when it's on its way again. I wait till the light turns, then run across the street, stop in the median and run across the other side when it's clear. Now I am one of the ones who waits with outstretched arm for a combi to pick me up. Finally, one comes. I clamber aboard, again trying to sit as near the door as possible. I am barely on when the cobrador calls out "Lleva" or "Vamos", both of which mean "Let's go!". I lurch toward my seat, resembling a tipsy drunkard and fall into it as gracefully as possible. My seatmate might be anyone - a young professional, an Andean woman with her brightly colored blanket on her back holding who knows what, a young mother with her child and a market bag, on the way to buy food at the market, an older man, a child on the way to school. We bump and rattle over the rough roads, the cobrador shouting out an almost constant litany of stops, followed by a short pause, then "Baja" or "Nadie", depending on whether someone is getting off or not. The car part stores whiz past, interspersed with tiny restaurants and some of the numerous typical Peruvian grocery stores, which contain an amazingly large variety of items in an amazingly small space. Then we pass the jail and we're officially entering the town of San Jeronimo. Soon, we turn off the main road to head up to the farmers' market, where the human (and otherwise) contents of the combi often change drastically as many people get off and on. Soon, we're headed back down the hill. I know I'm close now. "Farmacia", the cobrador calls out. "Farmacia, nadie" (No one's getting off). Then "Piscina". "Piscina baja" I respond. He relays the message to the driver, the door opens, and I get off. I walk down the road to the school and thus begins another day in my life in Peru.

Teaching and learning in Peru

2008-04-22T20:46:00.003-04:00

So I did my coursework at Millersville. I did my student teaching. I did all my field placements. I graduated with a certification to teach. Yet, nothing can quite prepare you for your first year of teaching. I'm guessing those of you who are teachers know what I'm talking about and are probably chuckling to yourselves. Let me catch you up to speed on where I'm at personally, now that I've been teaching for two months.
I have gained a new appreciation and awareness of God's grace since March 3, the first day of school. Every day, it seems, I do things that I wish I would or could have done better. Every day there are frustrations. Every day, I realize again that I am not perfect! (Humbling thought). Every day, I realize that I am in a process and haven't arrived yet. (This is very aggravating for my perfectionistic tendencies.) Every morning, I need God's grace to start over afresh and anew and love my students all over again. Teaching so far has been the most intensely frustrating, fun and rewarding experience of my life, I think. Despite the frustrations, I love teaching and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. So this is a little bit of where I am at right now.
I have 33 students - 20 third graders and 13 fourth graders. They are great kids. My third graders are quite mischievous and energetic. They don't have a lot of self-control and are also great tattletales. But they can also be fun and really sweet. Fourth grade is very enthusiastic about learning English. They do well with the activities I plan and can usually understand what I'm saying when I'm speaking in English (which is most of the time, or at least I try to make it that way). They come from many different backgrounds - both Christian and non-Christian homes. They come from the country and from the city of Cusco itself (and anywhere in between). They come from a great variety of socioeconomic backgrounds. Some of their parents can help them with their English homework. Others are barely literate themselves. There is a lot of family instability in this culture. I don't know all the family situations yet, but I do know that several of my students come from single-parent families. Others carry keys with them and are home alone after school, basically raising themselves. Still others have parents who are very involved. Some have difficulty in school. For others, school is easy. They all need love. Lots of it. And encouragement. That is not something that's frequently given to children by adults in this culture. So I try to give it as much as possible. Encouragement and hugs. Getting to know my students, praying for them, encouraging them, holding them when they're crying, seeing their faces every morning, watching their hands shoot up when they know the answer, seeing their enthusiasm...those are some of my favorite parts of my job.
And then there's the grunt work. Depending on the day and the class, I have either 45 minutes or an hour and a half to work with the students. And let me tell you, the time flies! Trying to collect homework, squeeze in spelling, keep everyone engaged and on task, teach, and everything else is definitely enough to fill up my time, no problem. I keep thinking I'd love to do this and that, but there never seems to be enough time to do so. Before I know it, class is over and we're only half way through where I wanted to be. I keep trying to figure out what is the most important and focus on it. But the lack of time to do all I'd love to do is frustrating, yes. I'm trying to figure out as well what I think about the curriculum the school's been using. Much of the time, it seems too hard. But I'm working with it and adapting it as well as I can, adding things to it and teaching things in different contexts sometimes. All of these things make teaching a continual balancing act for me in many ways.
But I'm learning...a lot. I'm learning a lot about God's truth. I am definitely a perfectionist, at least as far as my own self goes. So being imperfect and being in the process of learning is frustrating at times. Just this morning, as I spoke with God, He reminded me to listen to His truth and His voice, not any other voice or any other "truth". That was a powerful reminder. One I needed. I find that I tend to get discouraged with myself before getting encouraged with God. Really, it should be the other way around. No, I'm not perfect, but I'm loved anyway and empowered with God's power. Now that is something to be encouraged about! No matter what, I am still loved unconditionally and He has a purpose in my life.
And I'm learning how to work with my kids. Little by little, I'm getting ideas for fun things to do with them and how to best teach them. I've found that lots of review (to the point where I feel like I'm becoming redundant) is necessary and that going over something only once is a waste of time because they won't remember it.
So yes, I am often frustrated. But I am also often filled with joy and love for my kids as I am in the classroom. They're my kids. They're precious. And through them God is teaching me about His grace.
So that's a little bit of where I'm at right now personally. Blessings to each one of you. Thank you for your prayers! They are much appreciated.

Feliz Cumpleaños!

2008-04-19T17:58:00.006-04:00

So how do they celebrate birthdays in Peru?
Glad you asked. Let me tell you how I celebrated mine. The day began like any other. Wake up at 5, eat breakfast, get ready for school. But from there, it was a little different. I walked in the door at school just in time to see Wendy scurry around the corner, looking guilty. I walked in to the office to use the copier, just in time to see Damaris leave the office, looking guilty. And since everyone else was busy looking guilty, I got to use the copier without standing in line! (The copier is quite a popular place to be at PROMESA at about 7:15 in the morning). Pretty soon, I found out the reason why everyone was looking guilty. They were all waiting around the corner with cupcakes, drink, and other fun surprises. I felt very blessed by each one of my coworkers. They blessed me with a beautiful bag from Cusco that works very nicely as a teacher bag and is a lot easier to take with me on combis (public transportation...that's another blog entry for another day) than my backpack!
As soon as I left the school building to go upstairs to do something, I ran in to Isaac, one of my third graders, who greeted me with a big hug and "Feliz cumpleaños!".
mid-section and many more greetings of "Feliz cumpleaños profe! (teacher)". Kids definitely have a way of making one feel loved... We began the day, as we do every Wednesday morning, with a group devotional time with all the grades. Before going upstairs, Ron called me up front and everyone sang to me (Yes, they have "Happy Birthday" in Spanish). As I was goingI came downstairs again only to have many more enthusiastic sets of little arms thrown around my back to my seat, I got mobbed by most of the third and fourth graders. When I say mobbed, I mean as in I couldn't walk and I was trying not to fall over and squish anybody. Literally.
The day proceeded uneventfully until just before recess/snack time, when Chrisnna, one of my fourth graders, started complaining of a stomachache. So I took her to the office to give her some Pepto-Bismol. On our way back up to fourth grade (after being mobbed again in the hallway en route to find the keys for the office), Alejandra (from third grade) called down to me from the railing at the top of the stairs. "Profe, come to our room!" For a few minutes I became a human tug of war rope as Chrisnna pulled on one arm and Alejandra on the other. Fourth grade eventually won (first come, first serve), but only with the promise that I would be right over to third grade. The fourth grade room doesn't have a door yet, so as I stepped through the curtain that serves as a makeshift door, I was promptly showered with confetti from all directions and shouts of "Feliz cumpleaños!". Again, I was surrounded by fourth graders. Have I mentioned that kids have a way of making one feel very loved? A package was thrust in my hand and immediately the entire fourth grade began chanting "Que lo abre! Que lo abre! Que lo abre! (Open it!)" Inside, I found a ch'ullo (a traditional hat with ear flaps from Cusco, which is actually becoming popular worldwide
) My kids continue to amaze, surprise and bless me. The girls in both grades were way into writing notes to me, so I have lots of little notes on Peruvian notebook paper decorated in gel pens (quite a popular item among the girls in both of my classes) and colored pencils. I have to say...I love my kids. So then I went in to third grade and they all sang to me too and gave me hugs and encouraging words (and more notes). It's been a while since I've gotten that many hugs and felt that loved all in one day!
Side note: then I went back to fourth grade and found out that Chrisnna's "stomachache" was really an excuse to get me to go down to the office...)
After school, I went home for lunch. Lomo saltado....probably my favorite food here. I had invited my friend Juana and my host mom, Mama Zenaida for lunch. Including my friend Marga (who works in our house), my roommates and I, we were 6. I walked in the door and was greeted by my roommate Carrie thrusting a crazy balloon hat on my head. Apparently, one of her friends is from Switzerland and there is a Swiss tradition that single girls celebrating 25 years of life must wear a crazy hat. I happen to live with Carrie, who, for several months of her life, got paid to make balloon animals. So...I got a beautiful balloon hat, complete with a flower! :)
I felt very blessed at lunch by my roommates and my friends. We had fun fellowshipping together and enjoying each other's company. (In the pictures, Mama Zenaida, is in the black, Juana in pink and Marga is wearing blue, in case anyone's curious). I definitely feel like I am surrounded by family here and am very loved.
And after lunch, there came the cake. Chocolate cake with peanut butter icing (yes, we have enough American peanut butter that we can splurge on things such as peanut butter icing at the moment). Very rich, but even yummier! And I was sung to again.
There's this Peruvian tradition involving birthday cakes. After one blows out one's birthday candles, everyone starts chanting "Que muerda la torta! Que muerda la torta! (Bite the cake! Bite the cake!)" If you're unfortunate enough to have anyone behind you, you might get your face shoved in the cake in the process. But if you're lucky, it's a simple process of taking a bite out of the cake with your mouth. Then you get the piece you bit and the cake is cut up and served to everyone. As you can see from the picture, I obviously need more practice. But the cake was ceremoniously bit, cut, served and enjoyed by all.
After lunch, Juana stayed a while and we ended up talking and playing Dutch Blitz with Carrie and Shannon till Juana had to leave to catch the bus back to Huacarpay.
My friend Hilda (Juana's sister) called me later that night, promising to call again on Friday night to set up a time that we could get together today. So this morning I met her and we went downtown for the day. We just had fun walking around, looking at the

Qorikancha museum (I love the fact that I can get in for free with my residence card!) and climbing up the giant statue of Inka Pachakutec that gives you a great view of the city of Cusco. Before we went to get lunch, we stopped at Pukllay Kancha (Quechua for play place) where there is a giant slide that makes you feel like a kid no matter what your age. Great stress reliever and laugh inducer! I have decided that if I ever miss sledding while I am here, I will pay the $0.35 or so entrance fee and slide down the slide a few times. It's really a lot of fun! The last time, Hilda and I went down back to back our arms twisted together, and had quite the laugh when we tipped over and got tangled up at the bottom, laughing too hard to get ourselves untangled for quite a while.
The other great part of my birthday was hearing from many of you over the course of the last few weeks. I felt very blessed by each one of you and greatly enjoyed going to the post office and checking the mailbox there. I have cards hanging on the side of my desk in my room and have filled up the entire side of the desk. Thank you to everyone who helped to make my birthday special. I felt more special, loved, blessed, missed, appreciated and welcomed by people (both here and there) this week than I have in a while.
I seriously think this was one of my favorite birthdays so far. Muchas gracias!
Thank you so much!

Thank you!

2008-04-17T23:22:00.002-04:00

Many thanks to all who remembered my birthday in various ways over the last few weeks - packages, cards, emails, thoughts, prayers... I've greatly enjoyed going to the post office lately! It seems that the box always has something fun in it right now. :) Same for my email inbox.
I felt very loved and appreciated by each one of you. Thank you for helping to make my birthday so special. I don't have time at the moment to post an update about my day, but I will do so hopefully this weekend and I'm working on responding to emails. Blessings to each one of you!

Safety 101

2008-04-15T18:47:00.002-04:00

Fourth grade, in one of their Spanish classes today, was learning about safety and accident prevention. Miss Nancy, the fourth grade teacher, sent them out in groups of about 3 to share with the other grades for a few minutes what they were learning. Andre, Sara and Katy came in to our third grade math class to share some very important and practical tips, such as "Don't run in the hallways" and "Don't slide down the banisters" (a very important one at PROMESA, considering the number of steps and banisters we have!).
My favorite one, however, was Andre's lesson on street crossing. In all seriousness and with a sense of maturity coming from being in fourth grade, he told the third graders: "Before you cross the street you should look both ways. Otherwise a car could come and hit you. Y eso no es muy agradable! (and that's not a very pleasant thing!)"
It was all I could do to contain myself...

The adventure of fourth grade vaccinations

2008-04-08T19:10:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was a day met with great trepidation by the students of PROMESA because, like kids everywhere, they generally hate shots. And the health department of San Jeronimo was scheduled to come yesterday and give mandatory hepatitis B vaccinations to all students who hadn't had them. Unfortunately for me, the fourth grade vaccinations just happened to be during English class, which fell during the last two periods of the day. Translation: the kids had all day to think about their impending vaccinations and let their stress level rise accordingly. Before English class, that was the hot topic of conversation and speculation. And then, just as we started saying the date, the nurse popped her head in and cheerfully announced that she was here to give vaccinations. Any concentration they had had for English class evaporated like water on a hot summer pavement.
The announcement was met with a mixture of tears, indifference, trepidation and bravery. I'm not really sure how much anyone really was concentrating on English, even though they were answering questions. The sight of their classmates coming back into the room holding cotton balls to vaccinated arms was just too enticing, nerve-wracking, and fascinatingly scary. And then, just that quickly, it was over. Finally, I thought, time to do some serious English class work!
This proved to be, however, nothing more than a fleeting dream. The level of relief in the wake of the vaccinations was seemingly just as great as the level of stress in the anticipation of them. Oh my goodness, I don't think I have ever heard that much laughter for that long in a classroom before in my life! They couldn't control themselves and even had me laughing.
I thought I'd impart a little humor into your life by sharing a few of the laugh moments...

Me: Okay, guys, I could understand before the vaccinations why you were all distracted and couldn't concentrate. But now they're over and you're still talking. I don't understand!
Magna: (raises her hand and when I call on her says, in all seriousness) Should I explain it to you?
At this point I lost it!

Andre: I think when they gave us the shot for hepatitis, they gave us a laughing shot too without us even realizing it!
And I lost it again...

For whatever reason, Ada Sol decided to drip a few drops of glue into Josua's hair. Josua raised his hand to ask for permission to go wash it out. As he was leaving, he commented "I'm going gray!", since the glue made his hair a whitish color.

Sometimes, I realized yesterday, you have a choice. You can be grumpy and frustrated, hanging on to your precious plans, and miss out on the joy or you can laugh along with everyone else and then work to get them under control and do part of what needs to be done. I think I can guess what Jesus would choose...

Munani yachay runasimita

2008-04-01T22:36:00.002-04:00

I want to learn Quechua. Munani yachay runasimita. That's been my line the last few months. I'd love to learn enough to understand Pastor Celestino's messages without my friend Juana having to translate everything. I'd love to be able to have a conversation in it, in which I don't sound like a two year old trying to string together words without really knowing what I'm doing. I'd love to actually understand it.
God showed me the other day that He has given me this tremendous blessing in learning Quechua. Quechua classes (after being here a little while) interested me when I got here, but other missionaries told me that maybe it would be better to concentrate on Spanish for a while and then work on Quechua. But I still wanted to learn Quechua. I was a little disappointed that that didn't seem like it was going to work out.
Okay, so I'm officially not taking classes. But unofficially...
My Quechua vocabulary has been growing by leaps and bounds (which is not that impressive because it wasn't that big to start with). I've been learning Quechua in the best way - from the people who God has placed around me. And I've realized that that is a tremendous blessing! Not only am I learning words, but I'm also making memories and building relationships in the process.
Like the other day when our friend Uri came over. The original purpose of his visit was to learn English, but he ended up teaching me instead. End result...I learned three words and the meaning of a suffix (Quechua is a patching together of one word and a bazillion suffixes, creating crazy long words). And I built a memory and my vocabulary.
Or yesterday, when my friend Marga taught me another three words and a suffix as we were drying dishes and hanging out wash together.
And on Sunday, Juana taught me another word as we were walking together after church.
And Saturday, Rene, Ines and I were cracking up as they taught me how to say "I'm full" and
tried to distinguish it from "I'm pregnant" (apparently, one Quechua word for full can also mean pregnant). Don't worry...I won't be using that phrase any time soon!
I've picked up words from so many people as I've built relationships over the past few months. And it's been a huge blessing. So no, my learning of Quechua might not be exactly like I thought it might be, but really, it's even better. God has given me the gift of friends and family around me to help me, to love me and to teach me. And I am reminded again that His ways are higher than mine and His love is deeper than mine.

Just as an interesting side note, here is the Quechua translation of John 3:16, in case you've ever lain awake at night wondering... :)
Diosqa anchatapunin runakunata munakurqan, chaymi sapan Churinta kachamurqan pipas paypi iñiqqa ama wañunanpaq, aswanpas wiñay kawsayniyoq kananpaq.

Third grade to a T

2008-03-25T19:37:00.003-04:00

I borrowed one of the school's cameras tonight because Luz had taken some pictures with it that I wanted to put on my computer. I saw this picture and it made me laugh because it's really a very good look at third grade at any given time. Observe carefully all that is going on in this picture and all the expressions on the kids' faces. Oh yes, they're a really distractible group. I really do enjoy them, though. So I thought I'd share the picture with you so you could see some of my students and what they are like.

Far tables from left: Shally, Caleb, Diana, Sarai, Bethany, Sharith, Jonatan, Yuli
Front table: Ibet, Lucero

Pets with six legs

2008-03-19T18:17:00.007-04:00

I had an experience today that made me laugh and run for my camera, so I thought I'd share it. It was recess time in fourth grade and suddenly, Alicia came back with this bug crawling on her hand, wanting to show it to Miss Nancy (the fourth grade teacher) and I. It was about the size of a ladybug, but sporting stripes instead of spots. She wanted to know what kind it was. Of course, being the great bug aficionado I am, I knew right away. Not! Actually, I didn't really think much of it. I thought she'd found it on the floor. Then I saw someone else with a similar-looking bug and I began to wonder. And then I saw Magna fishing them out of the bottom of her backpack. Upon further investigation, I found out she caught them in her yard, thought they were pretty cool looking, and decided to make pets of them. So she found a small box, put grass in it, and stuck it in her backpack. She spent a few minutes fishing little bugs out of the bottom of her backpack pocket and putting them back in their home. Well, this was just too interesting to resist and pretty soon the vast majority of fourth grade was involved in the unfolding drama of the bugs. These tiny six-legged pets (some even had names!) were definitely the choice entertainment for the half-hour recess time. I think maybe one or two of the students actually went out to recess. Most of the rest of them were sitting watching the antics of Magna's new pets as they crawled around and kicked their little feet in the air when they got flipped on their backs. They were, in fact, so engrossed in watching this miniature entertainment that they didn't even seem to notice when I got out my camera and started taking pictures. The hilarity of the whole situation cracked me up, so I thought I'd share it.
Shannon suggested maybe I bring a box of bugs to school in my backpack as back up in case I need a backup plan in the middle of class. Hmmm...not a bad idea!

Trout with Wings

2008-03-18T21:02:00.006-04:00

Before you think I'm turning all evolutionist on you and thinking I found a winged trout, the missing link, let me explain myself. Saturday was another instance when things didn't turn out the way we expected - something that seems to happen quite frequently. We ended up eating trout with wings.
Several weeks ago, we were invited to go on an outing with some of the youth from Huacarpay. The plan was to hike out beyond Lucre, see some beautiful scenery and catch some fish, fry them, eat them, play some games, eat some capuli, then hike back. But you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men...

We arrived at the house of our friends the Puma sisters in Huacarpay at 8 AM on a sunny Saturday morning, as was planned. We spent some time getting things together for the outing - things like pots and pans, knives and laundry detergent to wash hands and dishes. All the important stuff. 5 of us (Carrie, Shannon and I and Juana and Rosa Puma, who is pictured at left) left around 8:30 in a taxi to go to the place in Lucre where we were all going to meet. The plan was to go to a fish farm owned by Sixto, one of the men from the church in Lucre. We were going to get some fish from him and take them with us, in case we couldn't catch any fish (or not enough to feed all of us). We were also going to meet the other youth from Huacarpay who were planning on coming with us. When we got to the predetermined destination, there was no one there. So we walked to Sixto's house to see if he had seen everyone else and if they had already gotten fish from him. Turns out he had no idea about the goings-on; neither did he have any trout big enough to sell us. He did, however, have some gigantic pears he sold us. On the left, you can see Vilma and I with them. So we were back to square one, still not sure where the rest of the youth were or what we were going to do. Juana, ever organized, took charge and we walked back through Lucre, meeting her sister Vilma and her boyfriend along the way. We were rather in a rush, but, in typical Peruvian fashion, took time to visit the parents of one of the women from the Lucre church. Of course we couldn't leave emptyhanded, so they gave us a bag of capuli (a Peruvian fruit kind of like a cherry) to take with us. By this time, we were thinking that buying some kind of meat other than fish was looking like a pretty good option, but weren't sure where to find it. We were told there was no meat where we were, but only in the market. So Juana and I decided to go get meat and leave everyone else at the meeting place, just in case anyone else should show up. Thankfully, God sent Pastor Eloy of the Lucre church along just in time to show us where there was some chicken very close. We bought chicken and met up with everyone else. We still had no idea where the other youth were, but, assuming they were ahead of us somewhere, hopefully fishing, we started out. On the way, we met up with another one of the women from the church who agreed to sell us some choclo (corn). We sent two of our group with her to get the choclo, then kept going, past the fish farm on the other side of Lucre, where we waited for the choclo-gatherers to rejoin us. While waiting, we suddenly realized we had no matches to start a fire, so even if we did have meat, it didn't really do us much good anyway. So Juana and I went back down to the fish farm, where we asked for matches from the man there. God's grace was great and he gave us about half a box of matches. Now, well-stocked, we continued our hike.
The actual hike part lasted about an hour or so. The weather was beautiful and it was great walking along all together, carrying everything, talking, enjoying the scenery, even if it was really hot. We finally got to the place where we were going to spend the day, sporting jeans wet to the knee from having crossed two small rivers. Upon arriving, my friend Juana and I cut up the chicken and Vilma started the fire, both of which you can see in the pictures. We began cooking lunch, since we were all really hungry by now. Shortly after we arrived, the other group of three youth arrived. We dispatched them to go fishing and some of the others to go find some capuli, while we started boiling the chicken. When we all reconvened, there was still no fish, but there was boiled chicken and a little capuli. We continued looking for capuli while the chicken finished cooking and the choclo got boiled. Another one of the youth from Lucre arrived just in time for lunch, bearing mote (corn off the cob - the kernels are about the size of your thumbnail). So we had chicken - hence the trout with wings - and mote for lunch. We ate at the perfect time, apparently, since right after we were done and were washing off our greasy fingers and dishes with laundry detergent in the stream, the clouds began menacing the sun. Instead of playing games, as we were planning, we decided we didn't want to walk in the rain, so we'd start heading back.
We didn't want to cross the water again and get all wet for our trip back, so Alicia, who is from Lucre, led us on a tiny little deer path along the mountain. After a while, we stopped in the grove of capuli trees below, where, like monkeys, Fredy, Andre, Jean and Alicia scampered up the trunks and we all began to unburden the branches of their load of fruit. Carrie was enjoying a branch full of capuli in the picture below. The clouds decided to leave the sun alone, so we figured it was a good time to stop and play games. The game of choice was spoons, played with sticks in the absence of spoons. After playing for a while, the clouds suddenly decided to make an encore appearance, so we decided it was God telling us that we should probably head back to Lucre before dark. We booked it along the rest of the deer path and arrived back in Lucre just in time to catch a taxi back to Huacarpay, jamming 10 of us in a station wagon for the 10-minute ride.
We arrived home, tired but content, having enjoyed our trout with wings and our time with our friends. It didn't turn out exactly
like we expected, but
we saw God's faithfulness throughout the whole day. It was a good reminder to me to look for His hand in everything, even the very smallest things, to find reasons to praise in every moment. And that is a beautiful thing.