Pets with six legs

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

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.

Cultural experiences in the Peruvian educational system

Well, thanks to God and His amazing grace, school started with all the windows intact and the classrooms done enough to house kids, though the plaster on the walls is still slightly damp and fourth grade has no door and third grade's door doesn't close properly. But all of those things are minor details which will get ironed out over the next few weeks (Lord willing). The last few weeks have been a series of cultural experiences and a tremendous growth spurt of my learning curve. So let me back up about three weeks and start from there. (Translation: this will be a long post!)
The 10 teachers and staff in the school started teacher meetings on February 18, meeting from 9-1 every day. In addition, there are two helpers who work in preschool and kindergarten. This picture shows most of the teachers. We were discussing and figuring out all the details of how to hand in grades and lesson plans and unit plans and everything and what we were going to teach when and all the practical details of running a school. My learning curve began its tremendous growth spurt during that week, as I had never really learned this in English, let alone Spanish. It was an experience that tended to breed some insecurity in me, since I had a million and one questions, trying to make sure I was doing everything correctly.
Last week we were working mostly on getting things ready for our rooms. That in itself was a cultural experience. Let me just say that I will never again take for granted a school supply catalog, in more than one way. We at PROMESA have been blessed in many ways by those who have sent down everything from bulletin board borders to stickers to Ziplock bags to books to sticky notes to index cards to construction paper. Some things are available here, but it's not like the States. I do believe that we have more resources than most schools here, but...well...things are different. I really began to see that when we started working on making decorations for our rooms. Yes, you read that correctly. Everything in the classrooms, except for bulletin board border, is handmade. Sometime in years past, from some unknown source, PROMESA got some pages from a school supply catalog. These served as the inspiration for many projects over the course of the week. Carrie and Damaris chose a zoo theme for their preschool/kindergarten class, so all week, Carrie was painting hippos and giraffes and lions and things, making attendance charts, behavior charts, welcome signs, and room decorations. The first day we were making things, Gwendy sat down and made 5 bugs for classroom decorations, just by looking at a miniscule picture on one of the pages of said school supply catalog. I was very impressed. Luz and I made a quote for our walls in English and in Spanish by printing out all the letters on the computer, cutting them out, and gluing them to heavy paper. That went for pretty much any words we made. Nancy had made a lot of decorations for her other classroom out of Corospun, which is a more durable cousin of those thin little foam sheets you can get in the States. She cut out all the pieces, assembled them, and painted them. Honestly, I had to ask her if she'd made them. I wasn't sure. They are amazing. Nancy and I also made a calendar and I spent several hours one night coloring in the names of the months in English and Spanish, which we printed out on the computer.
And then there's Vinifan, Contact Paper, which is the closest thing we have to lamination. I think I'm addicted to the stuff. Hm...do I want this to last beyond the end of the year? Might this be something that I want to reuse? Do I want to make this stronger? Do I want to be able to write on it and erase it? Cover it with Vinifan! It takes longer and is significantly more frustrating than sticking things in a laminating machine, but it works. I spent a long time cutting things out of Vinifan.
I also spent many hours printing things out on the computer for people. I began to feel as though I were quite computer literate (at least in Microsoft Word), as I kept hearing "Betania, puedes pasarme esto a la computadora, por favor?" (Betania, can you please type this up on the computer and print it out for me?). Apparently, someone sometime somehow got the idea that I was the computer girl. Go figure. I'm glad I've had lots of practice with Word in English, which makes it much easier to learn it in Spanish.
I must say, I am amazed and impressed by the creativity of Peruvian teachers. It seems to be boundless. People here are generally more creative and artistic, I think (maybe it comes from having nothing and needing to make things. I don't know). My artistic skills are sadly lacking. I really like Google Image Search, personally. :) I wish I had the ability to look at something and make it, but God hasn't blessed me with that one yet, unfortunately.
The hours passed rapidly, the table and floor littered with multi-colored scraps of papers: cartulina, cartulina plastificada, Corospun, vinifan, Canson - all of which I was introduced to that week (that was another part of my learning curve). All too soon it was time to actually put things in our rooms (2 days before the beginning of school). No such thing as putting staples in the wall here. I'm not quite sure why, to be honest. But nope. Cinta masking (masking tape) to the rescue. I think I'm addicted to that stuff too. Thanks to my junior block cooperating teacher, who taught me to always use more masking tape than I think I'll need. Maybe we should invest in stock... That was the day when the windows still were not in the third grade room and the walls were still damp, so masking tape didn't stick. Chinches (thumb tacks) to the rescue. Yes, our classroom decorations are currently held together with masking tape, thumb tacks, and a little bit of sticky tack and hot glue (which, interestingly enough, is the same word in Spanish as caulk, causing some mental distress for me too as I tried to figure out how and why we were going to caulk things to the walls).
But when we left that day, there were at least some things on some walls and we felt somewhat ready for the arrival of Monday and bouncy, lively little bodies full of energy and enthusiasm. Monday morning at 5 AM came very quickly and finally it was D-Day. I got to school early to put a quote up on the third grade room wall so the room wasn't totally bare, since the windows didn't get in till after I'd left on Saturday and I couldn't get in to put things on the walls on Sunday after church. All too soon, it felt like, the kids came and there was then no more time to do anything.
I have a total of 31 students in third and fourth grades. The third grade class is very talkative, but I am beginning to know how to work with them and teach them. Fourth grade, though they're talkative to an extent, is much more mature. I enjoy both classes in their own way, though they can both be frustrating as well. It's been weird because I've just, within the last 2 weeks, reached the point of speaking Spanish as my default language and now I'm supposed to be teaching English and speaking English as much as possible. I definitely mix the two, probably more than I should. Sometimes I feel like I'm speaking sign language too because I try to do a lot with my hands to help them understand what I'm saying when I speak English. Normally, it works pretty well. I have kids in both classes who I'm beginning to realize are my trusty translators.
The biggest cultural experience for me this week is the Peruvian style of teaching. Normally, in Peruvian schools, kids don't have textbooks, so their notebooks become the next best thing and are really works of art. The first page is their caratula (which really has no translation and basically is like a title page where they put their name, course, school, teacher, grade, etc and decorate it). Much Peruvian education is in the form of dictation, so the kids get really good at hearing things and writing them down. The teachers also draw a lot on the board (I tell you, they're really artistic!) and the kids are expected to copy it all down, exactly as it's written or drawn. If they don't, or if they make a mistake, they either have to erase it with a pen eraser or use white out. The teachers are really sticklers for all of this and it really takes forever and is not really a good use of time. Plus the fact that they use both red and blue pens. The red pen is for capital letters and punctuation (don't ask me why) and the blue pen is pretty much for everything else. It's interesting to hear a teacher dictating and to hear all the blue pens hit the desks when she says "comma", then to hear the red pens hit the desks after the comma is written. They are expected to do everything perfectly in their notebooks.
And along comes Miss Bethany, who figured that notebooks would be a good idea, so they could write things down and have everything in one place. I didn't count on the fact that these kids are so ingrained in the Peruvian way of doing things that they have no concept of just writing something down on a notebook page. I can't tell you how much time I spent yesterday (the first day I used notebooks) answering questions like "Should I write this in cursive or in print? Should I put it here or here? Should I do it in blue pen or red? Should I draw this? Where should I put this drawing?". I started out the day saying "I don't really care" (wondering, what does it really matter?), but finally decided that for the mental well-being of both students and teacher, it might behoove me to begin to care, or at least to pretend I care. So today I became a little more Peruvian and told them how to do it. That worked better. And it took forever. I'm learning...slowly but surely.
But through it all, despite notebooks and trying to figure out how to teach in another culture and short nights and talkative students, it's so rewarding to see my fourth graders' hands shoot up when I ask for a volunteer to put a bead on our quipu (it's an Incan way of keeping track of numbers and I decided to make my own to keep track of how many days we've been in school). And it was rewarding when the third graders wanted me to be a part of their circle time during Christian Education this morning. Or when Andre comes up and gives me a kiss on the cheek and greets me. Or when Mabelin's hand shoots up because she knows the answer to a question. Or when Ibet figures out what I'm saying and translates it correctly. Or when Noemi is excited to learn English. Yeah, it's hard. Yeah, I get frustrated. Yeah, I've been tired. No, I don't like waking up at 5 AM. Yeah, I'm glad it's the weekend and I have some more time to sleep and to get ready for next week. But it's so good too. And teaching is so rewarding. I'm glad I'm here.

Crunch time!

It is crunch time in Cusco. Friday night. School starts on Monday. There is at least one classroom without windows (to be coming tomorrow). All of them need cleaned. We still need to actually get in the rooms and decorate. There is still a ton of stuff that needs to be done! Tomorrow is a big work day at the school. Please pray for us, that we will all work well together and get everything done that needs to be done. Please also pray that we will continue to bond as a team and that we will be able to sleep these nights before school and enjoy the last few days of summer vacation. I will post more about this week and about tomorrow, but for now, I really need to go get some work done!
Thank you for your prayers!

Headlines from a weekend in Peru

Inside this issue of my blog:
- Peruvian snow day!
- Feliz cumpleaños Marga!
- Chickens in church
- Mud, mud and more mud

Peruvian Snow Day!
There is no snow in Peru, except on the mountains. There are, however, snow days. Commonly, they are known as paros (transportation strikes). Because of the lack of public transportation during these events, no one can go anywhere and stores are generally closed for lack of available business. So they are known throughout the missionary community as Peruvian snow days. Thursday and Friday of last week were paro days, so we stayed in our house both days. So what do you do on a snow day when there's no snow to play in? Well, you get caught up on your emails, newsletter and blog. You enjoy a cup of hot chocolate. You cook and bake things. You can even have an Anne of Green Gables party, like we decided to do. A missionary family that recently left Peru left behind the VHS version of Anne of Green Gables. Several of the younger members of our missionary team wanted to watch them. So we decided to have an Anne of Green Gables pajama party at our house, since we're the only ones with a VCR. It ended up that all the females on our missionary team, plus one of the single Wycliffe missionaries, made it to our house for an enjoyable evening of snacks, fellowship and 4 hours of Anne. My roommate Carrie is the hat queen, so we even had fun hats to wear! It was definitely a fun way to spend a Peruvian snow day.

Feliz cumpleaños Marga!
Saturday was a very special day for us. It was our friend Marga's birthday. Marga has been a huge blessing to us. She helps us out in our house, but is much more of a friend than a maid. She and I have spent a lot of time together the last few weeks and have had many good conversations about anything and everything, from the serious to the hilarious. She invited us to her house for a delicious meal of aji de gallina (rice with a special sauce served with potatoes) and birthday cake. It was fun for us to be able to turn the tables on her and bless her like she has blessed us so many times. We made a Boston cream pie (during the snow day), which turned out really yummy. And then we were able to all pitch in and wash the dishes afterwards. Who knew that washing a lot of dishes with 5 people could go so quickly and be so fun!

Chickens in Church
You never can tell just who might want to come to church. Yesterday I went out to Huacarpay (WAH-car-pie) for the morning service. Getting there in and of itself is an adventure, standing on a packed bus, holding on to whatever I can find to keep my balance, getting squeezed against seats and other people while still others wiggle their way off the bus, wondering how many more people the bus can hold. But I enjoy fellowshipping with my brothers and sisters in Huacarpay. Yesterday we took Communion together. It is a blessing being able to take Communion with brothers and sisters from another place and to know that we are all united in the body of Christ and have all been saved by the very body and blood we are remembering. Yesterday, apparently, two chickens wanted to take part in this blessing too. While Pastor Celestino was reminding us of the significance of Communion, they wandered in the back door of the church. Caleb and Nando were dispatched to catch them and put them back outside. There was some laughter as the chickens tried to outrun and evade the boys but were eventually outsmarted and returned to their accustomed place. And then we took Communion together in peace.

Mud, Mud and More Mud
We seem to frequently do things that cause great amusement for the Peruvians who happen to see us. Yesterday afternoon was a great example. We decided to go for a walk with Carleta, our friend who is here with Wycliffe Bible Translators. There is some beautiful scenery around here, as you can see, and we wanted to enjoy it! Walking for fun, without a destination, is apparently an American thing to do, as the few people we encountered on our walk wanted to know where we were planning on ending up and seemed rather surprised that we were simply walking for the sake of walking. I think they thought we were a little silly. Of course, it may have also been the fact that we were also taking this aimless walk through wet, sticky, squishy, pervasive, weigh-down-your-shoes, make-you-slip-with-every-step mud. It may have also been the fact that we were speaking a mix of Spanish and English while doing all this, walking along like we weren't really used to walking through this kind of mud (which is pretty accurate). I distinctly heard some titters as I passed by one house. They might have thought we were crazy, but people were really friendly. Like the man who kindly helped us remember that the time was getting late and that it would be dark in an hour. Or the family of kids with the little girl who called me Tia (Aunt - a term of endearment in this case) while we were passing by their house. Or the lady who talked to us as we were passing by her chacra (small farm plot) where she and her family were working. We saw lots of God's creation yesterday - animals, mud, clouds, trees, fields, beautiful mountains and flowers and God's beautiful creation of human beings. We may be different, we may fail to understand each other, we may do crazy things like taking a walk through mud just for the fun of it, but we are all God's creation and He loves us just the same, no matter what.

The adventure of a Peruvian wedding

Last night was Gerson and Zaida's wedding, the first Peruvian wedding that I have ever attended. It also happened to be the first Peruvian wedding in which I have ever been involved. Last Sunday after church, I was asked to play violin in the wedding, which sounded like fun, despite the fact that I wasn't given direction on what to play or anything, nor had I ever received an invitation (that came on Monday). I was told to choose a classical piece to play when the flower girl was walking down the aisle. Sounds simple, right? Can it really be that simple?
Practices were scheduled for Wednesday and Thursday evenings. I showed up Wednesday with Canon in D, only to discover that Bany (niece of the groom, who was in charge of coordinating music for the wedding) thought it would be good if I would play for worship as well. Fine with me, except I only knew one of the 4 songs. No problem. They were going to practice all the songs and I could learn and pick out the tune on my violin. I left church on Wednesday night with one song down, two songs half in my head and another one which I was supposed to find on Youtube and see if I could start learning from there. I decided to go the route of looking on the music on my friend's computer to see if by chance the song was on there. Bingo! I put it on my mp3 player and listened to it several times to start learning it.
Thursday night came and we almost didn't have practice because of the paro (transportation strike, also known by missionaries as a Peruvian snow day, since no one can go anywhere or do anything out of the house. I'll have to blog about that too). We finally decided to go ahead and have the practice, though, since some taxis were running. At the end of the night, I still had one song down well, two others pretty well learned and the other one...well, beginning, but still very much in progress.
Thursday I also finally got to talk almost directly to the bride and groom and found out that yes, it was great that I was playing and no, I wasn't playing when the flower girl was entering. I was going to play while they were saying their vows and taking Communion together.
I was listening to the song on my mp3 player various times throughout the weekend. So yesterday morning (the day of the wedding), I stuck the headphones in one ear and played along with the song. Yes! Success! I am ready...I think.
We were going to practice at 5, since the wedding was supposed to start at 6. But, I was told, I could get there any time after 4, since the rest of the musicians would all be there doing sound checks and getting everything electrical figured out before the wedding. I got to the church around 4:30, only to find that decoration of the church was still in progress, the brothers of the groom were the electricians and were finishing up sound and lighting issues, and the sister of the groom (who also happens to be the pastor's wife) was mopping part of the floor. And none of the other musicians were there, let alone anyone else (besides those working). We were, as the other missionary who was there kindly pointed out, a little behind.
Till everyone got there and we figured out the sound and how to make electrical cords stretch all the way across the stage, till the chairs were all set up and the bride and groom were ready to walk down the aisle, it was all of 7:20. And then the processional started with the bridesmaids and groomsmen. I discovered that here, they stand along the aisle and form a sort of canopy with the flowers in their hands under which the bride passes on her way to the altar. They never actually stand with the bride and groom. For that matter, the bride and groom themselves don't even stand much. They mostly sit on chairs in the front of the church. A pastor I didn't know gave the address and then I was supposed to start playing. I ended up playing the entire song 6 or 7 times over a period of 10-15 minutes while rings were being exchanged, vows being said and blessings pronounced.
Finally, the endless repetition was over (I think the monotony of the repetition was more pronounced for me, since I was thinking about it the entire time and everyone else was concentrating on the wedding) and it was time for worship, which went really well. Normally, Peruvian wedding receptions are held at the church as well, but this one was more American in that it was at a separate location, so after cleaning up the church a bit for the service this morning, we headed to the reception, 5 people squeezed in a seat meant for 3, arriving around 10 PM. Upon arriving, we found that we were still ahead of the bride and groom. They arrived shortly after we did and then the party began! The bride and groom danced with their family members and bridesmaids and groomsmen. Then they had games for the single men and women, including the traditional bouquet toss and a Peruvian game in which a number of ribbons with charms on the end are buried in a cup full of rice. Each single woman is given a ribbon and on the count of three, they are all simultaneously pulled out of the cup. Whoever gets the ring on the end of her ribbon is supposedly going to get married soon.
After that, we sat around and waited some more, talking and getting sleepier and sleepier while we waited for our food. Finally, around midnight, the lechon was brought out. Lechon is a typical wedding dish which includes very greasy pork, a baked potato, a stuffed pepper and a tamale. Thankfully, another Peruvian wedding tradition is passing around doggy bags so everyone can take home leftovers. After filling ourselves with lechon, we decided that, seeing as how today was Sunday and we needed to get up for church, it was high time we got home and we really didn't need to dance for another two hours. I crawled between my sheets at almost 1:45 AM, thankful for the gift of sleep.
Felicitaciones Gerson y Zaida and may God bless your marriage!














The musicians for the wedding
Josue, ?, Cesar, Bany, Marco, me

Eres Todopoderoso - You are All-Powerful

Things in Peru don't always happen exactly as they happen in the US. On Sunday after church, I was asked to play violin in a wedding this Saturday. Not only was I asked less than a week before the event, but I was also asked by Bany, the groom's niece, not by either of the people actually getting married. So I asked her what I should play. "Oh, whatever. Something you know." After some more probing, I discovered that classical was the preferred genre. Something classical...hm...
Last night we had practice. I got to the church, toting my violin and sheet music for Canon in D, only to discover that I was one of 6 people either playing or singing in the wedding. Everyone else was there to practice the worship songs (which also apparently were left up to the discretion of the musicians). After finally deciding on some songs, Bany was asking me if I knew them. This was my first clue that I might be in for more than I bargained for. Unfortunately, I didn't know 2 of the songs. However, I learned them fairly well throughout the course of the night as we practiced them several times each. Which was a good thing. So apparently, I'm playing during the worship time too because, according to Bany, it doesn't make sense for me to be up there and then leave the stage in the middle of everything. I hope this is okay...
At the end of our practice, we decided to play a song that I have loved to sing since I was here last time. It's called Eres Todopoderoso. The chorus goes like this:
You are all-powerful
You are great and majestic
You are mighty and unconquerable
And there is no one else like You.
After playing soft, peaceful wedding songs all night, we let loose. And as I was standing there, playing for all I was worth, the voice of my violin mixing with Spanish worship, an electric guitar, a bass and drums, playing for the sheer joy of playing and worshiping, all of a sudden I had a worship moment when I knew that God was truly there and so much bigger than I often realize. I was overwhelmed with the sense of being back here, of worshiping God in San Jeronimo again with my Peruvian family. And I realized that only God could have brought me back here. Only He could have kept the vision alive in my heart. Only He is big and powerful enough to fulfill His purposes in and through us. Only He is great and majestic enough to do all that He has done, not only in my life but in each and every one of our lives. Only God is todopoderoso.
And then I came home and sat out in my backyard on the swingset with my roommates, layered up against the cold, and watched a beautiful lunar eclipse. Never mind that the clouds covered it up partway through. It was still beautiful and a wonderful reminder again of the power and majesty of our God to create something that intricately balanced and amazing.
La unica razon de mi adoracion eres Tu, mi Jesus...
(You are the only reason I worship, Jesus...)

The stuff of life

I was reminded this week that I am here for the ups and downs of life and faith in Peru. I am here for the stuff of life, regardless of what that may be. Two separate experiences throughout the week reminded me of this.
Wednesday night was the closing service and program of the annual leadership school that meets for about a month each January and February. This school includes 2 weeks of intensive discipleship training and then about 2 weeks of outreaches to villages where the national church has church plants. In Peru, communication about event times and the actual starting times of these events isn't always very clear. We decided to be on the safe side and be early, with the end result that I got to help in the kitchen for about an hour or so before the program started. Of course, any good Mennonite event, no matter where it is, needs to include some sort of food. So I got to work with some of my friends from the various churches to make ham and cheese sandwiches and serve a pasta dish to the leadership school participants. Who knew that working in the kitchen could be so fun! :)
It was such a blessing to be at the program that night. The leadership school was very unique this year in that most of the participants were from the churches that have been recently planted in the various villages of the Andes Mountains. Many of these people were quite young, both physically and spiritually. A significant percentage of them have been in the church only a few months. Some were not even baptized when they came to the school. And yet, to see their faith and dedication to God was such a blessing. It was beautiful to hear their testimonies of praying for people and sharing their own newfound faith with them. What a blessing to know that these brothers and sisters in Christ have received this foundational leadership training that will serve them for the rest of their lives! I have been so blessed to hear the stories of Peruvian faith this week on different occasions. The commitment and faith that these people have challenges me. I was reminded as I watched the dramatizations of what had happened during the outreach part of the school of the passage in 1 Corinthians 1:26-29. "Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things - and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him." I enjoyed seeing friends again that night, but more than that, I enjoyed seeing and being blessed and challenged by the faith of Peruvian believers! These pictures are of the skits that the participants put on as well as the worship time we had together.
The second event of the week that reminded me that I am here for the ups and downs of life actually happened today. When our friend Marga came to the house this morning to help us out, she informed me that my friend Ronal's dad had died the day before yesterday and the burial was today. We decided to go together, since both of us wanted to go but neither wanted to go alone. This was my first Peruvian burial. It was, according to the pastor's wife, who we met up with when we got there, different from an evangelical burial service, since Ronal's dad was Catholic. Nevertheless, it was definitely an experience in the stuff of life and the common experience of death. We got there about 45 minutes after it was supposed to start, which didn't seem to be that big of a deal. The funeral procession was on foot. At the head of the group was the casket with about 6 pallbearers. Behind that was an assortment of friends and family and a band which played as we processed up the mountain to the gravesite. At several points during the trek, we paused for some reason which remains unknown to me, as we were closer toward the back of the procession and couldn't really hear well. When I say trek, I mean it really was a trek. Part of the way we were walking through the cemetery, trying not to step on graves, even though at times there was only about a six-inch wide strip of grass on which to walk. The other part we were walking on dirt paths carved into the side of the mountain. But always up. Steeply up. After we had climbed nearly the whole way up the mountain, we reached the gravesite, a hole in the red-brown Peruvian soil. The Catholic minister who was there prayed some ritual prayers, then Pastor Ruben, the head of the Mennonite churches, prayed a prayer for the family as well. Each of the children who wanted to shared some final words in tribute to their father. Then, they were given some time to say a final goodbye before the casket was lowered into the ground with ropes. Shovels and picks were produced from somewhere and the grave was filled in. Many people had brought flowers and threw them into the grave, burying them between the layers of dirt. Various people helped to fill in the grave, including the children. And then we all went back down the mountain, where we were able to give our sympathy to the family (which is hard enough in English, let alone Spanish). There was no set time for anyone to leave. There was soda and chicha (traditional corn beer) and everyone just kind of stood or sat around and talked, leaving when they wanted to.
Death here is definitely a normal part of life. Yes, it's sad. That transcends cultures. But it is recognized as something normal we will all face some day. No need to dress up for a funeral. No way to avoid it and sterilize yourself from human emotion or experience. No neatly going on your way while the funeral director lowers the casket into the grave. And no denying that life goes on after the body is in the ground. We were standing around afterwards talking and laughing about various things that had nothing to do with the funeral whatsoever.
And so I am here. In life, in faith, in joy, in sorrow, for better or for worse. And God is here. He is in the stuff of life. He is in the faith of the Peruvian believers, in the experience of death, in the details of everyday life, in the joyful exuberant smiles of the kids I've begun to get to know, in the relationships that are being formed and strengthened. God is here. And that is beautiful.

Pack mules, chickens and ice cream - a Saturday adventure in Cusco

To do on a Saturday in Cusco:
1) Buy things for ice cream sundaes for the party for the youth retreat we promised to help out with
2) Buy plants for our garden and sad little greenhouse (that's a project for the next few weeks)
3) Buy chickens
4) Make it to the youth retreat in time for the party
So we decided to go to Tupac Amaru, where they sell plants, furniture and any other number of things. Conveniently, right beside Tupac Amaru are several grocery stores where we could get just about anything we'd need for ice cream sundaes. So, under a hot, bright sun, we went to Tupac Amaru. We quickly found the plants we wanted - onions, oregano, cilantro, lettuce and rosemary. Carrie wanted to look for a chest since she doesn't have a whole lot of storage space in her room. She ended up finding one she loved. However, we still had to go to the grocery store, so we decided to carry the chest between two of us and leave one of us behind with it outside the grocery store while the other two went shopping. So Shannon got to sit on the chest while Carrie and I found things for ice cream sundaes. We ended up having to go to several stores and found almost everything. By this time, the chest was getting heavy and we were feeling like pack mules and getting ready for lunch, so we got a taxi home.
While at home, we decided to crush nuts and cookies and get everything ready for the ice cream sundaes before we left to go get chickens. One of the other missionaries had told us of the best place to buy ice cream in bulk (like for 80 people), so we called and found out that they would not be open till 4. The plan was to get the chickens, bring them home, then go get ice cream and leave from there for the retreat.
Things, however, rarely go as planned. The sun was still bright and shiny when we left home, but clouds were looming on the horizon. We had to make one stop to get chocolate syrup for the sundaes. By the time we got to our next bus stop, raindrops were starting to splatter down on the sidewalk. By the time we got off the bus, raindrops were really starting to fall. Huddled under a one-person umbrella, we stood in one place, contemplating the street in front of us, trying to figure out where exactly the little market was where we were supposed to buy our chickens. Finally, we just decided to walk and see where we ended up. Right as it started POURING rain, we stumbled upon the market. Now, I must explain that three gringas (white people) are not that big a deal in Cusco, but three somewhat wet gringas huddled under an umbrella jubilantly exclaiming "Aqui esta!! (here it is!)" as they rush into a poultry and guinea pig market in Cusco in a rainstorm are much more interesting! :) Especially since, as we walked under one of the tarps, it decided to unload its cargo of rainwater on Shannon's head. Now really wet, Shannon abandoned the umbrella. Now that we had made it to our destination, we decided to find what we had come for. The weather, however, had other ideas. All around the perimeter of the market, where there was some sort of roofing, people huddled with their chickens, ducks, turkeys and guinea pigs, trying to keep some semblance of dryness. Within about 2 minutes, the general consensus seemed to be that staying dry and selling animals was a lost cause while the rainstorm continued, so everyone found as much roof as he could and tried to cover up his animals. Since Shannon was wet, she decided to help the woman in the middle of the market put her tarp tents back up when they fell over and then throw her chickens in a plastic crate so they could be put under a drier roof. Carrie and I, meanwhile, huddled under a roof with what eventually became 4 other people as the storm dragged on and it began to hail. We stayed there, getting wetter, muddier, and colder, for about half an hour until the storm began to subside and the sounds that were heard, instead of the crash of raindrops, became more the murmur of human voices and the annoyed squawks of wet and uncomfortable fowl.
At this point, we decided it was sufficiently done raining to buy chickens. So we bought 8 3-week-old chickens, which we carried in a box. Next stop was to buy chicken feed, which went into our backpacks. By this time, it was about half an hour from the time the ice cream factory was supposed to be opening back up, so we decided to just take the chickens with us and head there. After getting some vague directions from the guy at the feed mill, who seemed to be quite amused by the sight of three wet gringas carrying a box of 8 chickens and enjoying petting his cat, we caught the bus we needed and headed out to buy 25 liters of ice cream. Unfortunately, we missed our stop, so we again became pack mules as we trudged back along muddy sidewalks, carrying the chickens and feed, and eventually found the ice cream place. By this time, it was 4:00 and we were supposed to be at the retreat in an hour. So we stood outside the factory waiting for the door to magically open and someone to invite us in to buy our ice cream. This, however, proved to be nothing but a lovely fantasy. 15 minutes passed by as we stood there wondering just when the door was going to open. I finally decided to try knocking to see if I could get any response. Lo and behold, a peephole in the door was opened and the man on the other side told me that this was the incorrect place, that yes, there was service from 4-6, but in another place that was, in his words, lejos (far).
By this time, we wanted nothing more than to get the ice cream, go home to change, and go to the retreat. So we hailed a taxi and went back to the grocery store we were at in the morning to buy the ice cream for a few more soles than we had originally thought it would be.
After getting home, changing, and introducing the chickens to their new home, finally we were able to leave for the retreat. When we arrived, later than we had originally thought, we found that things were, as is typical of events here, running late. So we sat and listened to two of the youth speak. That time was such a blessing to many people, including us. After the two teachings and the ministry time that followed, all the youth were barred from the room and the preparations for the party were begun. Chairs were moved to make room for dancing and funky lights were set up around the room. Supper was a quick meal of soup and tea, then it was back to helping to set up for the party, which started soon after.
The moment it was revealed that we were having a party, the dance floor was open and Shamara grabbed me by the hand, urging me "Bailemos! (Let's dance)." Somehow, she was willing to teach my stubbornly wooden feet how to move to the rhythm and do something that at least approximated what she was doing. I'm not really the most comfortable when I'm dancing, but when I was able to get past the fact that the pastor was there and the feeling that I can't dance and that I should be serving ice cream (even though all the youth were far too interested in dancing to want ice cream until later) and everyone was there and could see me, it was fun! :) Both the ice cream and the party were a big hit and we ended up being there till about 11:30, when the pastor and his wife and another guy decided to head back home to get some sleep. Of course, no sane person drives any kind of public transportation in Papancay where the retreat was at 11:30 at night, so we decided to hoof it in the dark, walking along a dirt road by the light of a keychain flashlight, carrying what was left of our ice cream toppings and things in bags. (It really wasn't bad; it sounds worse than it was.) Half an hour later, we arrived in San Jeronimo again, where Pastor Ruben hailed us a taxi and we were finally able to go home, leave everything where it was, and fall into bed exhausted.
God loves to send us adventures, I am convinced. They teach us to trust Him and go along for the ride, wherever that may lead us. Here are some pictures of this crazy adventure.












Shannon and Carrie with the newest members of our family, right after we got them and while we were waiting for the ice cream store to open.














The chicks in their new home















Some of the youth enjoying the opportunity to dance!













My friend Shamara and I.

Febrero loco - Crazy February

We have been told that there is a saying here about the rain to be expected during the months of the rainy season: enero poco, febrero loco, marzo borracho (January a little, February a lot, March is drunk). If the first three days of February have been any indication, the statement could be true for other things as well as rain...
Yesterday morning we woke up to no water. Not a drop. We have clean water to drink, but none of the precious liquid was pouring out of the faucets at the turn of a handle. This is not necessarily atypical in Peru. It takes some getting used to, but you quickly figure out you just have to wait for the return of the services and get creative in the meantime.
Creativity yesterday required rainwater. Thankfully for us, the Cusquenan rainy season came through and we were able to collect about 8 gallons of runoff water from our roof to at least flush our poor toilet. In addition, the Wycliffe missionaries who live across the street from us collected more rainwater than they could possibly use and shared some with the rest of our little missionary community here. We said we felt like the widow who collected jugs from her neighbors into which to pour oil.
And as if that were not crazy enough, we were playing the entertainers yesterday. There were 6 of us around the table at lunch and about 17 youth jammed into our living room last evening for a game night/Welcome Shannon and Bethany party, which included smores and roasted Peruvian hot dogs (which aren't really your typical fat, artery-clogging American fare). Thankfully, this is Peru, where such utility shortages are part of life. No one seemed to mind dumping water in the back of the toilet to flush it, especially seeing as how most of the rest of Cusco was without water yesterday as well.
We awoke this morning to cloudy skies, restored water services, and a kitchen full of dirty dishes, realizing that God truly is in control and we truly are not.
I also found the first dead mouse under the refrigerator yesterday. Jubilantly I announced victory and recruited Carrie's metal ruler for the job of extricating said rodent from said confined space....only to realize that I had been excited about a piece of garlic adorned with a rather large dust bunny. We still have yet to find the first dead mouse. We are considering a cat.
Today was our Sunday to visit the church in Huacarpay for the first time. I definitely realized that life is simpler in the country and was reminded that church in Huacarpay is quite different from what I have been experiencing for the last 5 years. It was, however, a good morning and I really enjoyed it. After church, we went to the pastor's house for a very large lunch of potatoes - freeze dried, plain, and sweet, corn on the cob, carrots, cabbage, meat, and broth. My stomach is definitely expanding... After lunch, we went to check out the ruins of an ancient Inca military fortress that are close to Pastor Celestino's house. It was quite a hike in church clothes, but very fun. Got to see some black widows (ugh!) and a lot of cool ruins and beautiful scenery. God's creative power is amazing!
Of course, since today is the last day of Carnavales, which means that people are out on the streets armed with buckets of water and water balloons, the trip home could not have been complete without being pegged in the face by a water balloon and becoming quite wet. If you're not quite so lucky, shoe polish and colored flour can also be involved. We were lucky in that regard.
And that has been most of the beginning of our February. Loco? Just a little. But has God been there? Absolutely. And I trust in His faithfulness for whatever craziness awaits us in the next few weeks as well.
One more thought with which to leave you. According to Pastor Celestino of Huacarpay, February is the month in which women talk the least. His explanation for this statement? February only has 28 or 29 days. Some things cross cultures. :)