So, what would you do?

There are supposed to be pictures with this, but they won't load, so you have to imagine. I hope I can maybe get them to load if I do it this evening when less people are on line, so check back later if you can.

You have just spent three or four nights with 50-60 other families crammed in a church building that has one, rather inadequate bathroom. You haven't been able to let your kids outside because the church property is right next to the highway and there isn't a fence. Besides, it's pretty muddy out there. You have one single mattress to share with your whole family, which might include three or four children. You have one change of clothes each, maybe. You probably saved the TV, maybe the stove. Yesterday, the pastor of the church told you that you have to move to a high school because there is a danger that the water will rise again and the church will be flooded. You aren't too happy about it, because you are afraid that it means that the church will stop taking care of you. Not true, but you wonder. So, late in the afternoon, you get on a bus with your kids and a bundle of belongings and find yourself one of four or five families sharing a classroom.

The next morning. You can`t go home yet, if you happen to still have a house to go back to. The sun is shining. There is abundant clean water in the outside faucets. So, what do you do?

You do laundry.

You get cleaned up, not forgetting to play with a friend at any opportunity.

Play checkers--Didn't bring the checkers? Lots of pop bottle caps around.

If you are a member of the church in el Progreso, you:
keep on serving the people from your neighborhood, even though you don't have a house to go home to either.
Get all the kids together to play games.
Have a baby. Have a baby? Well, not one of the ladies who had been at the church, but one lady came in from La Chumbas, a little village tucked in the banana plantation, and gave birth at the school.
On Saturday, John and I spend the day with the church in El Progreso, hoping to encourage and help the helpers. As usual, we came away feeling very blessed.

And the rain came down

It rained all night last night, and all night the night before that. It hasn't affected us all that much, but a lot of places have been devastated by floods and landslides. I saw a picture in the paper the other day that showed how the ground under a roadway had been completely eaten away by the water. From above, I don't suppose you could even tell, until you tried to drive on it. There are a couple of spots like that on the road between here and Siguatepeque. They are well marked, fortunately. In a place we visited not too long ago, the whole side of a mountain has come down, forming a dam of mud and rock, forming, in turn, a lake. If this natural dam suddenly breaks, the water from this new lake could wipe out a town down river. People are comparing the damage in some areas to the damage done by Mitch, the hurricane that devastated Honduras ten years ago. Every day the paper has shown pictures of neighbors helping neighbors, of people reaching out to save somebody else's stuff.

I've been thinking how troubles in general are like this rainy season. A bit of trouble or difficulty, like a night of rain, is something we expect and accept as part of life. When troubles keep coming, like night after night of rain, we really can't handle it without a little help from friends. The difference is that when it comes to a flooded house or a mudslide, the need for help is pretty obvious. People with a flood of troubles sometimes look pretty much like they always do-- kind of like the road surface that looks fine from above, but eaten away underneath. It is a lot easier to hide a mudslide in your heart than a mudslide on a mountain.

We don't always sense the importance of an encouraging word or act of kindness. It is easy to let moments of opportunity pass to build someone up. We shouldn't. We just never know when someone needs a little help from a friend.

I think that was me.

Last week I wrote about the kids in the Saturday afternoon class I am teaching. My sister, Becky, commented "Kids are the same the world over. I heard a story about a SS teacher who asked her class, "Kids, what is small, brown, furry, with a fuzzy tail, that runs around in your back yard." One child said, "It sounds like a squirrel, but I'll say 'Jesus.' " Oh my, yes.
I went back to the kid's class last Saturday with what I thought was an absolutely cool object lesson. It involved a raw egg and a hammer. The egg arrived safely to the class, but somehow got broken before my turn came to teach (a real mess in the basket), so I had to borrow another one. I did the object lesson, gave the application and then asked, "Did you understand?" Expecting these wonderful responses, I got, "No." sigh. Cool isn't always the same as communicating, I guess.
Anyway, during the game time, I was watching a particular boy. He was obviously in a bad mood, but I appreciated the way he kept participating and didn't take his unhappiness out on anyone else. I wanted to congratulate him, but didn't want to single him out, because it was a bad mood I was recognizing and I thought it might embarress him (maybe it wouldn't have, I don't know). So, I explained that I had noticed that someone on one of the teams that didn't win many games that day had really had a good attitude. This person had kept on trying and and participating, even though this person was frustrated. I didn`t want to say the name of the person, but I thought that person would know who he or she was. Not the best way to give a complement maybe, but it was what occurred to me. The boy I had been watching didn't react, but I heard two or three other voices whispering to someone close to them: "I think that was me."

The emergency room

Mirza has lived with us for several months to facilitate her going to high school. She lives too far to commute. One day this week we got a call saying she had gotten sick at school, and was in the emergency room of the hospital. The doctor said it was from the heat, which didn't make sense, since it was cool and rainy, but he had ordered an intravenous something or other and we had to wait until she had finished that treatment before we could take her home. So, we spent an hour or so waiting in the waiting room just outside of emergency.

The room had three wooden benches against the walls. One of the benches was mostly taken up by a very elderly gentlemen who was also getting an intravenous something or other, but since there was no bed available in the emergency room, he was lying on a bench in the waiting room. He didn't move or make a sound the whole time he was there. When a space became available, his sons picked him up and carried him in, ignoring the wheelchair that was sitting right beside them.

The bench across from the elderly gentleman seemed to be occupied by members of one family. There were four adults and an active little girl about two. The little girl kept trying to peel the black plastic that was already coming off of the glass door. They just sat there for a long time. On the same bench was a woman who was complaining of a very sore throat. She kept getting up and pacing and sitting down again. The lady and the family finally left. I didn't see any of them talk to a doctor or nurse.

We sat down on one end of the third bench. At the other end was a very pregnant young woman with a small diaper bag on one side of her and a nervous looking young man on the other. I didn't see them talk to a doctor either. Between John and I and the nervous young man and his wife, a large suggestion box stuck out from the wall. I kept hitting my head on it.

My guess is that it was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room. No sirens, no frantic people, no rushing around. At one point, a young boy about seven years old came in, carried on the shoulders of his father (I suppose). His foot was wrapped in what used to be a white cloth, which was soaked in blood. The blood dripped on the floor of the waiting room. No one mopped it up. The boy was extraordinarily calm, I thought. I think riding on his father's shoulders was a bigger deal than having cut his foot. Mirza said later that it turned out to be less than it looked like. It was just a piece of glass.

Mirza also said later that the doctor on duty had had quite a conversation with one of the patients. The doctor had said, "We can't help you here. You need to go to the hospital in San Pedro."
"I won't go," the woman answered.
.....(continued conversation).....
"Who do you think is in charge here," the doctor demanded, rather irritated.
"I am," the woman responded.
"No," the doctor continued "...I am the doctor, I am in charge."

I don't know which of the two was correct. I was just glad it wasn`t me.

The Blue Team

A few weeks ago, I was asked to give a lesson to kids on Saturday afternoons. I hesitated. I didn't quite understand why there wasn`t someone from the congregation who could do this. For a variety of reasons, I decided to say yes, at least for the next month or so while our schedule doesn't have us traveling weekends.

I decided I wanted to do two things. I wanted to encourage the kids to really think about Spiritual issues and not just parrot answers to me. (kids seem to think the words God, Jesus or the Bible will answer any possible question a teacher asks) and I wanted to find something positive to say every week. Most of the kids tend to play the way they play in the streets--a good deal of pushing, shoving and complaining. This week I congratulated the girl who smiled when she ran.

Last week, I complimented the Blue Team. There are four teams, Red, Yellow, Blue and Green. The Blue team happened to have the very smallest child of all, which meant that they didn't win many of the relay races. This "smallest child" didn't like to lose and would cross his arms and scowl when he came in last. Then, I noticed that the team members started congratulating "the smallest child" everytime he participated, whether they won or lost. High fives, hugs, hoorays...he started smiling, and the whole team seemed to be having a much better time than the other teams. I don't how it happened (except that I saw the leader do it first), it is certainly not the way that I usually see teams of children play together, but it was very beautiful...hooray for the Blue team.

Being distracted

I am taking a break from house cleaning. One room to go (this one) and piles of things to put away. I am not a great housekeeper (I tend to be easily distracted... like now), but I do find that taking the time to give the house a good cleaning also tends to clear my mind to take on the next project. This week I am hoping to make a lot of progress on several projects, so cleaning the house today was a good way to start. I am close to done, so I need to get un-distracted and back to work.

Just to make your having made the effort to look at my blog today worth the effort...

A couple of people asked me to include an update on the kids in the blog, so this seems like a good moment to do it...before I get back to cleaning the house, which I will do....
Luke and Tabitha and still in Ohio. Tabitha should be finished with her seminary studies this December. Luke has changed his major to counseling, which is as close as he could get to studying discipleship. He seems a lot happier going this route. It will take him a while to finish, since he can only go part time, but that's okay. Life is like that. He'll get there.

Nathan is still with the Navy. He has to travel a lot with his job, but he seems to enjoy it.

Hannah is in El Salvador for three months, working as kind of a consultant to an NGO. It is not a paying job, but she seems to be thoroughly enjoying it.

Andrew is studying at BSU in Idaho. Just got a job to help pay expenses, so that is good.

That is just about as brief an update as a person can give, but if you want to know more, let me know.

Back to work. .

Just as I am

I have been feeling quite nostalgic in the last couple of weeks. It all started with some meetings we had with the other CAM missionaries in Honduras and some of the folks from the main office in Dallas. The outcome of the meetings is still a work in progress, but times are changing and missions changes, too.

Among other things, John and I were given a plaque to commemorate our 30 years with the mission. That is what actually got me feeling nostalgic (that, and Wally--see the previous blog). 30 years. I would have thought I would be farther along on the journey by now, in terms of being more Christ-like, more of everything that makes one Christ-like. I still have questions I can't answer, sins that still plague me, things I know I should do that I have trouble being consistent in doing. I guess I am still a work in progress, too. Part of the problem with wanting to be Christ-like is what Christ is like.

The sermon on the mount, for example...incredibly awesome.

The more I understand what He is really like, the more I long to be like that, and the more I realize how far short I come.

Way back, more like 40-50 years than 30, we used to sing "Just as I am" in church... a lot. When I think about walking along the path of life in Christ, as Eugene Peterson puts it, "a long obedience in the same direction," it still expresses very beautifully how I feel...

1. Just as I am, without one plea,
 but that thy blood was shed for me,
 and that thou bidst me come to thee,
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

2. Just as I am, and waiting not
 to rid my soul of one dark blot,
 to thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

3. Just as I am, though tossed about
 with many a conflict, many a doubt,
 fightings and fears within, without,
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

4. Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
 sight, riches, healing of the mind,
 yea, all I need in thee to find,
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

5. Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
 wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
 because thy promise I believe,
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

6. Just as I am, thy love unknown
 hath broken every barrier down;
 now, to be thine, yea thine alone,
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come.