We have had a guest for the last few days. Anthony is a Bible College student from Canada who escaped the -30 temperatures to spend Spring Break in Honduras. It is kind of funny that he ended up with us, since we didn't know him at all. He attends the home church of another missionary who wasn't going to be available, and asked us if we would be willing to have Anthony with us. We agreed, not knowing exactly what was going to happen.
Like just about all of the young people that have passed our way in the last few years, Anthony is just plain delightful. He has been a blessing to everyone he has met, been willing to do what ever we ask and asked thought-filled questions.
I don't know if God has decided to especially bless us in our contacts with the younger generation, or what. The things I read would make me think that young people as a whole are a pretty self-centered, shallow lot (just like a lot of older folks, I guess). That just hasn`t been our experience.
I don't envy at all the challenges young adults face. The economic situation makes it hard for even the best of the best to get their foot in the door for jobs, the declining moral climate makes living for Jesus a tremendous challenge, the violence everywhere makes the world a scarey place to live. And yet, there are Nathans and Anthonys and groups like the one we had last year from Millar that demonstrate the fact that God hasn`t closed up shop and stopped working. There are young people with gifts and hearts dedicated to serving God. I am impressed with the quality I see in the few who have made their way into the "wilds" of Honduras, as well as those who are blessing our own children with their Godly friendships.
The future is certainly uncertain. The challenges are huge, but there are people taking on the challenge in God's Name.
God bless them.
sábado, 14 de marzo de 2009
domingo, 8 de marzo de 2009
The attack of the Tamarindo tree
This morning John and I visited a little church in Tierra Blanca. I took along a Sunday School lesson. We had told there would be maybe 6 or 7 children and about that many adults. They don`t usually have Sunday School for children. They used to, and they would give the children something to drink and maybe a cookie as a treat every Sunday. Then a different church came to town and offered the children toys and clothes and food. So now the only children who come regularly are the seven children of one family.
Since they don`t have a classroom for the children, we took some chairs and a bench outside under a big tree. As I started teaching, two things happened. First, the three year old wandered off across the enclosed yard and second, other children started noticing what we were doing and started arriving, filling the chairs and bench, and then some. I didn`t worry too much about the three-year old, he seemed fine where he was . I could keep half an eye on him while I taught the lesson. I ended up with about 25 children, plus two ladies who came out of the house next door to the church and stood at a distance listening. I got into the story, when all of a sudden four or five little boys got up from their seats, and took off running across the yard.
It turned out that the little three year old had gone across the yard because there was a tamarindo tree full of fruit. (If you don't know what tamarindo is, I don`t know how to explain it exactly--it's a pod with sort of a jelly like stuff inside it. People make a drink out of it that is good for what ails you)
When the other little boys figured out what the three year old was doing--zoom, they were gone. It took a couple of minutes to get them back to their seats, convincing them that the fruit would still be there when the lesson was done.
So, I learned that I am not the most interesting teacher in the world. A tamarindo tree full of fruit can attack the interest level of the average little boy just by being there. They did come back though, and stayed to the end of the lesson. The kids loved coloring the picture I brought along, (the three year old even wandered back over to color), people seemed encouraged by our visit and one little girl brought me three tamarindo pods. It was a good morning.
Since they don`t have a classroom for the children, we took some chairs and a bench outside under a big tree. As I started teaching, two things happened. First, the three year old wandered off across the enclosed yard and second, other children started noticing what we were doing and started arriving, filling the chairs and bench, and then some. I didn`t worry too much about the three-year old, he seemed fine where he was . I could keep half an eye on him while I taught the lesson. I ended up with about 25 children, plus two ladies who came out of the house next door to the church and stood at a distance listening. I got into the story, when all of a sudden four or five little boys got up from their seats, and took off running across the yard.
It turned out that the little three year old had gone across the yard because there was a tamarindo tree full of fruit. (If you don't know what tamarindo is, I don`t know how to explain it exactly--it's a pod with sort of a jelly like stuff inside it. People make a drink out of it that is good for what ails you)
When the other little boys figured out what the three year old was doing--zoom, they were gone. It took a couple of minutes to get them back to their seats, convincing them that the fruit would still be there when the lesson was done.
So, I learned that I am not the most interesting teacher in the world. A tamarindo tree full of fruit can attack the interest level of the average little boy just by being there. They did come back though, and stayed to the end of the lesson. The kids loved coloring the picture I brought along, (the three year old even wandered back over to color), people seemed encouraged by our visit and one little girl brought me three tamarindo pods. It was a good morning.
viernes, 27 de febrero de 2009
Me da rabia
There is a really good word in Spanish for feeling really, really angry about something.
"Me da rabia" means, "it makes me furious." "Rabia" is also the word for, just what it sounds like, "rabies". It's like saying, "it just gives me rabies that such and such a thing happened. In English we might say..."it just makes my blood boil". I am not literally foaming at the mouth, I don't think, but the injustice of some things is just incredible.
The second group of pastors and their wives came on Wednesday. They each come from small towns not too far away from Santa Barbara, the town. They all live in Santa Barbara, the provence. Miriam and Marlen live maybe 45 minutes away, Rosa and Norma closer to an hour and a half.
Miriam has a Bible School education, very well read, good teacher, loves to talk, brings with her, her two "active" little boys of about 7 and 5. The conversation in the second group is a lot livelier because of Miriam. She has a cronic ear problem that causes her a lot of trouble.
Marlen is a really sweet. She brings her 5 year old daughter with her. The daughter is a lot of fun--has a mischevious smile most of the time. Norma is really sharp, too. She doesn`t bring her kids with her, though it is always a question mark if she will come, depending on if she can find someone to stay with them. Both Marlen and Norma are a lot quieter than Miriam, but have good things to share in conversation. They have high school, I think, though I haven`t asked. They are very bright.
Rosa comes from probably the humblest background of the four. She has three very well behaved children, two of whom came with her this time. Her older daughter is in high school, living with a family here in Santa Barbara. They took advantage of the lunch and supper breaks to go see her. She is soft spoken, but love for the Lord shines out from her. Her comments are few, but right on. She has a bacterial infection in her bones that causes her to be in constant pain, unless she keeps up with a treatment that she needs to get once a month. One doctor told her there is no cure, but continual treatment will keep it under control. Another told her that it is cureable, but it takes about 10 years of constantly getting the treatment.
Rosa's situation right now is the one that makes me angry. Not with Rosa, of course. I just can`t imagine anyone ever getting angry with Rosa. A few months ago, the elders of her church decided to look for a different pastor. They found one, but didn`t even bother to tell Rosa's husband that he was going to be out of a job. Rosa and her husband heard it through rumors. When they asked the elders if what they had heard was true, it was confirmed. They were out of a job. No time to make another plan. The church has told them they can stay in the house until they have a place to move to. They were given about $50 as "severence pay". I think Rosa's treatment costs that much. Their daughter has to pay half that much every month in rent in order to stay in high school.
After the meetings were over, Rosa and her family (minus the daughter in high school) came over to our house for lunch, we cut down some coconuts that Rosa will use to make a coconut candy that she sells. I asked her questions about their situation, and she quietly answered them--hurt, concerned, but no bitterness in her tone of voice. The strongest emotion I heard in her was when she mentioned one lady in the church who gives them milk and cheese, and that was gratitude.
I am humbled by the strength of her faith and the grace of her speech. I don`t even have words to express how I felt.
"Rabia" is as close as I can get.
"Me da rabia" means, "it makes me furious." "Rabia" is also the word for, just what it sounds like, "rabies". It's like saying, "it just gives me rabies that such and such a thing happened. In English we might say..."it just makes my blood boil". I am not literally foaming at the mouth, I don't think, but the injustice of some things is just incredible.
The second group of pastors and their wives came on Wednesday. They each come from small towns not too far away from Santa Barbara, the town. They all live in Santa Barbara, the provence. Miriam and Marlen live maybe 45 minutes away, Rosa and Norma closer to an hour and a half.
Miriam has a Bible School education, very well read, good teacher, loves to talk, brings with her, her two "active" little boys of about 7 and 5. The conversation in the second group is a lot livelier because of Miriam. She has a cronic ear problem that causes her a lot of trouble.
Marlen is a really sweet. She brings her 5 year old daughter with her. The daughter is a lot of fun--has a mischevious smile most of the time. Norma is really sharp, too. She doesn`t bring her kids with her, though it is always a question mark if she will come, depending on if she can find someone to stay with them. Both Marlen and Norma are a lot quieter than Miriam, but have good things to share in conversation. They have high school, I think, though I haven`t asked. They are very bright.
Rosa comes from probably the humblest background of the four. She has three very well behaved children, two of whom came with her this time. Her older daughter is in high school, living with a family here in Santa Barbara. They took advantage of the lunch and supper breaks to go see her. She is soft spoken, but love for the Lord shines out from her. Her comments are few, but right on. She has a bacterial infection in her bones that causes her to be in constant pain, unless she keeps up with a treatment that she needs to get once a month. One doctor told her there is no cure, but continual treatment will keep it under control. Another told her that it is cureable, but it takes about 10 years of constantly getting the treatment.
Rosa's situation right now is the one that makes me angry. Not with Rosa, of course. I just can`t imagine anyone ever getting angry with Rosa. A few months ago, the elders of her church decided to look for a different pastor. They found one, but didn`t even bother to tell Rosa's husband that he was going to be out of a job. Rosa and her husband heard it through rumors. When they asked the elders if what they had heard was true, it was confirmed. They were out of a job. No time to make another plan. The church has told them they can stay in the house until they have a place to move to. They were given about $50 as "severence pay". I think Rosa's treatment costs that much. Their daughter has to pay half that much every month in rent in order to stay in high school.
After the meetings were over, Rosa and her family (minus the daughter in high school) came over to our house for lunch, we cut down some coconuts that Rosa will use to make a coconut candy that she sells. I asked her questions about their situation, and she quietly answered them--hurt, concerned, but no bitterness in her tone of voice. The strongest emotion I heard in her was when she mentioned one lady in the church who gives them milk and cheese, and that was gratitude.
I am humbled by the strength of her faith and the grace of her speech. I don`t even have words to express how I felt.
"Rabia" is as close as I can get.
martes, 24 de febrero de 2009
Four ladies
Once a month, a group of pastors come to study with John. The first group comes on Monday and spends the night, and then they go home mid morning on Tuesday. The second group comes on Wednesday and goes home Thursday morning. Three times a year, their wives join them. This time, four of the ladies came in the first group (there are two).--Rosie, Emerita, Esther, and Daisy. We study through a book in the morning, do a craft in the afternoon and a Bible study in the morning of the second day. These ladies are SO different from each other, about the only thing they have in common is that they are pastor's wives.
Rosie is a high school graduate and loves to learn. She is a delight to teach because she finds understanding something new so much fun. She brings her very well behaved 8 year old son with her.
Emerita, on the other hand, didn't go to school long enough to learn to read. She is studious in her own way, though, her husband or one of her kids will help her to do the homework assignments I send home. She is very wise and has a delightful positive attitude.
Esther is very quiet. She can read, though she is obviously sounding out the words very deliberately. Last year I wondered if she really wanted to come or just came to please her husband. This year, she is smiling more and participating more.
Daisy is the youngest of the group--brings her "active" two year old with her and is pretty distracted by him most of the time. She is a good reader and usually has an interesting story that applies pretty well to the lesson. (This week she was telling about the guy in her town who claimed to have a vision concerning where a drowning victim would be found. The whole town believed him and used machinery to dredge where he said to look. They found a huge fish which no one in town would eat because of the "location". Turned out the body wasn`t there at all, but several miles away. Everybody in town got mad at the false prophet and were sorry they hadn`t eaten the fish. It really did fit with the lesson, except the part about the fish.)
It is interesting to me how their personalities come through in the craft we do. This time we were making some pretty paper gift boxes.
Rosie carefully listens to and follows the directions. She loves crafts, like she loves learning everything else, and is thinking how she can use the craft for some project at church.
Emerita enjoys the craft, though she needs a bit of help along the way. Never having had the opportunity to develop her fine motor skills (ever think about the things you learn in grade school besides reading, writing and arithmetic? things like cutting with scissors) she needs a bit of extra help to cut along the lines and see how things fit together. She is thinking of who she can give her box to.
I gave the ladies a couple of different options on how to do the box and Esther chose the simplest possible way. She most always does. Don`t complicate things is her motto. I don`t know what she is thinking, but she actually smiled when she saw how nice her box came out, so I was really thrilled.
Daisy chose two wildly contrasting kinds of paper to make her box, added every possible kind of lace or flower to decorate it that I would let her. I looked at the outcome and thought "Oh my goodness" She loved it.
I just feel so very honored to meet with these ladies once in a while to try to encourage them. God has blessed me with them.
sábado, 21 de febrero de 2009
Written in ink, or penciled in?
Last year, when John and I sat down with a calendar to plan out this year, we left chunks of time open. Nice empty white squares with numbers in the corner and no responsibility written in in blue ink. That was going to be my "writing time".
Famous last words.
Seems like this year is going to be full of penciled-in-at-the-last-minute things. Good things, worth-doing things, just not what I had thought I was going to be doing. My much-loved writing project is getting squeezed into a day or two here and there between penciled-in responsibilities.
That's okay though.
The unscheduled schedule that this year is becoming has a special purpose. Or purposes, I guess I should say--some for me, some for the people whose lives have been crossing with mine.
Learning to relax in God's plan for me has been a life-long project. Always wanting to please everyone and never quite sure that I pleased anyone. Continually questioning myself, never confident that what I was doing was "good enough". Oh my, what a waste of energy!
I am finding that whether, in my mind, something is "written in ink" or "penciled-in," God's plan for me is good. He loves me not for what I accomplish, but because He is Love. He accepts me because I am in Jesus.
For the most part, people appreciate the inked-in things I spend my time preparing, but what they really love is the penciled-in time I spend listening to them. They accept my carefully prepared lesson, but what they really need is a hug and encouraging word.
Famous last words.
Seems like this year is going to be full of penciled-in-at-the-last-minute things. Good things, worth-doing things, just not what I had thought I was going to be doing. My much-loved writing project is getting squeezed into a day or two here and there between penciled-in responsibilities.
That's okay though.
The unscheduled schedule that this year is becoming has a special purpose. Or purposes, I guess I should say--some for me, some for the people whose lives have been crossing with mine.
Learning to relax in God's plan for me has been a life-long project. Always wanting to please everyone and never quite sure that I pleased anyone. Continually questioning myself, never confident that what I was doing was "good enough". Oh my, what a waste of energy!
I am finding that whether, in my mind, something is "written in ink" or "penciled-in," God's plan for me is good. He loves me not for what I accomplish, but because He is Love. He accepts me because I am in Jesus.
For the most part, people appreciate the inked-in things I spend my time preparing, but what they really love is the penciled-in time I spend listening to them. They accept my carefully prepared lesson, but what they really need is a hug and encouraging word.
jueves, 12 de febrero de 2009
The house in Las Rosas
Today we went to look at a little house in Las Rosas, which is a few minutes away from our little hill. We are dreaming about the idea of a place to offer a place where pastors can get away for a couple of days to rest and recharge their batteries. It might not look like much, but it is the seed of an idea.
miércoles, 11 de febrero de 2009
Want to see some joy?
This week, Andrew is working at the International Special Olympics in Idaho--doing filming and editing. I have been trying to log on to see what Andrew is doing, though my slow internet makes it a bit frustrating. So far, I have been able to download parts of the opening ceremony. Tell you what, if you want to see some pure joy, click on www.live.specialolympics.org.
jueves, 5 de febrero de 2009
Feeling groovy
Slow down, you move too fast, gotta make the morning last just
kicking down the cobblestones, looking for fun and
feeling groovy.
I don`t know if I remember the words right. It was one of the few popular songs of my high school days that I remember liking. Almost all the songs in those days had double meanings, which I didn`t always get, being rather clueless, so I hope this one didn`t.
It just describes how I have been feeling the last few days. I was sick last week. This week I feel fine. I have a most wonderful husband who loves much better than I deserve. The weather is nice and cool (though rainy, but who cares). I had a wonderful time teaching teachers in Nicaragua. They even want me to go back and teach some more. Saturday and Sunday I get to present the Gospel to a group of 60 or more children. Most of our work is with pastors and their wives who, it is to be hoped, already understand the Gospel. I am really looking forward to talking about Jesus, who loves me even more than my really wonderful husband.
Life, I love you.....feeling grooooovy.
kicking down the cobblestones, looking for fun and
feeling groovy.
I don`t know if I remember the words right. It was one of the few popular songs of my high school days that I remember liking. Almost all the songs in those days had double meanings, which I didn`t always get, being rather clueless, so I hope this one didn`t.
It just describes how I have been feeling the last few days. I was sick last week. This week I feel fine. I have a most wonderful husband who loves much better than I deserve. The weather is nice and cool (though rainy, but who cares). I had a wonderful time teaching teachers in Nicaragua. They even want me to go back and teach some more. Saturday and Sunday I get to present the Gospel to a group of 60 or more children. Most of our work is with pastors and their wives who, it is to be hoped, already understand the Gospel. I am really looking forward to talking about Jesus, who loves me even more than my really wonderful husband.
Life, I love you.....feeling grooooovy.
domingo, 1 de febrero de 2009
The boy at the border
Border crossings used to be all day affairs. We would drive to whichever border we needed to cross, fully expecting to spend several hours in the heat of the day, waiting for a stamp in a passport. It has become much easier in the last couple of years. The officials seem more friendly, maybe because the system has become more streamlined, and they don`t have to work so hard. One thing that hasn`t changed is little boys asking for money. I used to struggle with my attitude, but in the last few years, I just don`t worry about it anymore. If I have a coin or two handy, they are welcome to it. If I don`t, I don´t feel guilty.
This last trip, a boy about ten grinned at me as I sat waiting in the car for John to get the required car insurance to enter Nicaragua. I didn`t have any money, but I did have a box of granola bars. Would you like one? I asked. Sure, he said.
A few days later we were on our way back through to the Honduran side after our visit to Nicaragua. A grinning boy about ten popped up at the window. You're the lady with the cookie, aren't you? he asked.
Do you have any notebooks? No, I didn`t happen to have any notebooks. I'm going to school and I need five notebooks. Really? That's great! Got any backpacks? Backpacks? No, I didn`t bring any extra backpacks, would you like another cookies? Sure, he grinned. Then I remembered I didn`t have any more of those either. How much does a notebook cost? 10 lempiras. I dug around the front seat to see if I could find any coins. Would Nicaraguan money do you any good? Sure, he said (I wondered to myself if he really was going to school, or if it was his line to get things from travelers. No matter, I said, if I have some coins, he is welcome to them) I found three Nicaraguan coins. Two fives and another I can`t remember what it was. I have enough here for one notebook, I said, holding out the three coins in the palm of my hand. He carefully took the two coins that would buy the notebook and left the other one in my hand. Thanks, he said, running off down the road.
A few minutes later we were ready to cross onto Honduras. I saw a little ten year old boy with a infectious grin..He waved at me as we passed and I waved back.
This last trip, a boy about ten grinned at me as I sat waiting in the car for John to get the required car insurance to enter Nicaragua. I didn`t have any money, but I did have a box of granola bars. Would you like one? I asked. Sure, he said.
A few days later we were on our way back through to the Honduran side after our visit to Nicaragua. A grinning boy about ten popped up at the window. You're the lady with the cookie, aren't you? he asked.
Do you have any notebooks? No, I didn`t happen to have any notebooks. I'm going to school and I need five notebooks. Really? That's great! Got any backpacks? Backpacks? No, I didn`t bring any extra backpacks, would you like another cookies? Sure, he grinned. Then I remembered I didn`t have any more of those either. How much does a notebook cost? 10 lempiras. I dug around the front seat to see if I could find any coins. Would Nicaraguan money do you any good? Sure, he said (I wondered to myself if he really was going to school, or if it was his line to get things from travelers. No matter, I said, if I have some coins, he is welcome to them) I found three Nicaraguan coins. Two fives and another I can`t remember what it was. I have enough here for one notebook, I said, holding out the three coins in the palm of my hand. He carefully took the two coins that would buy the notebook and left the other one in my hand. Thanks, he said, running off down the road.
A few minutes later we were ready to cross onto Honduras. I saw a little ten year old boy with a infectious grin..He waved at me as we passed and I waved back.
a grain of sand
My daughter and several of her friends have a blog in which they write very profound thoughts about very serious subjects. They are good at it. The things they write are well expressed and and well thought out. They obviously love writing, too. They obviously find a great deal of pleasure in doing a good job of putting words together. I love to write too, though I am not as good at it as Hannah and her friends.
I had not read their blog for a while, so did some catching up today, enjoying the really fast connection where we are staying tonight. Of course, I had to wander around the porch, turning circles to find a spot where I could get the signal, but once I got it, it's pretty fast.
Several of the articles I read tonight had to do with their perspectives on war. One article commented on the importance of doing what we can do, where we are, even though we can`t solve the world`s problems overnight by doing that. (said much more eloquently than that, of course) I guess that is why teaching on the subject of peace has become such a passion for me. It seems like something I can do, just a grain of sand maybe, but it is something. I hope, as the economic situation begins to have more and more implications for people, making life more and more difficult and complicated, we don`t stop doing what we can to make a difference where we are. As the world continues to hate and hurt, we can continue to love and forgive. Lots of grains of sand, lots and lots of grains of sand.
I had not read their blog for a while, so did some catching up today, enjoying the really fast connection where we are staying tonight. Of course, I had to wander around the porch, turning circles to find a spot where I could get the signal, but once I got it, it's pretty fast.
Several of the articles I read tonight had to do with their perspectives on war. One article commented on the importance of doing what we can do, where we are, even though we can`t solve the world`s problems overnight by doing that. (said much more eloquently than that, of course) I guess that is why teaching on the subject of peace has become such a passion for me. It seems like something I can do, just a grain of sand maybe, but it is something. I hope, as the economic situation begins to have more and more implications for people, making life more and more difficult and complicated, we don`t stop doing what we can to make a difference where we are. As the world continues to hate and hurt, we can continue to love and forgive. Lots of grains of sand, lots and lots of grains of sand.
sábado, 31 de enero de 2009
Open question....
Ciudad Dario es a medium-sized town in Nicaragua. I just spent three days there doing a seminar on Peacemaking for a group of teachers in a Christian school. Teaching on the subject has become my passion over the last eight years or so. The material itself has changed as I have learned more. My perspective has changed too, from how do you get out of conflict once you are in one, to how to live a life a peace, whether or not you are in a conflict. More recently, I have delved into the subject of bullying. It is interesting that I am yet to find a word in Spanish that is the equivalent (there are lots of bullys who speak Spanish, just not a single word that really expresses the same idea as the English word).
The teachers are supposed to start the school year next week, and I knew that they had lots they still needed to do, so I finished up my seminar at about 2pm on Friday so they could have a couple extra hours to work. While I waited for my hostess, I sat down with one of the books I had brought along in case someone wanted to buy a book (no one had any money to buy books)It was The Wounded Spirit by Frank Perretti. It had impacted me the first time I read it and impacted me again as I re-read it in the light of what I have been studying about bullies. There are some things that a person can and should do alone, there are other things that a person should never have to face alone, and one of them is bullying. Just wondering...what is your experience? Ever been bullied, and had to face it alone? Ever been a bully or watched bullying and done nothing? What would have helped you?
The teachers are supposed to start the school year next week, and I knew that they had lots they still needed to do, so I finished up my seminar at about 2pm on Friday so they could have a couple extra hours to work. While I waited for my hostess, I sat down with one of the books I had brought along in case someone wanted to buy a book (no one had any money to buy books)It was The Wounded Spirit by Frank Perretti. It had impacted me the first time I read it and impacted me again as I re-read it in the light of what I have been studying about bullies. There are some things that a person can and should do alone, there are other things that a person should never have to face alone, and one of them is bullying. Just wondering...what is your experience? Ever been bullied, and had to face it alone? Ever been a bully or watched bullying and done nothing? What would have helped you?
sábado, 24 de enero de 2009
Winter
I keep pictures from Victoria, BC on my screen saver. Just thought a one of them might cheer up some of you who are in the midst of winter. Spring will come!!
Rural Honduras
Yesterday we took Tim and Donna Wright to see some of Santa Barbara. They are going to be coming to live in Santa Barbara toward the end of the year. (Lord willing) We are looking forward to working closer with them. Here they are seeing the little hill top that we are reforesting. We are dreaming about a place where pastors and their wives could come to get away. So far it is just a dream, but who knows...While we were looking around, we saw some pretty typical rural Honduran scenes...
Leaf-cutter ants, which are fascinating critters, if they just wouldn't strip the leaves off of our baby trees.A litter of piglets...mama was behind the fence.
A team of 30 mules that was going to carry materials to a remote area for something to do with an electrical system.
miércoles, 21 de enero de 2009
Influence
We are home for a few days between travel. This week we spent time at the association of churches' annual business meeting. Business meetings are a bit dreary, but I was glad I decided to go with John instead of staying home. John always takes books to sell (at a better price than they can get anywhere else) and serves free coffee, so a lot of people come by his table to talk.
There were a couple of moments that really impressed me. On the last day, a lady came up to John and told him how a Sunday School lesson he taught at their church had encouraged her. She had shared the same lesson in a couple of other contexts, and people had loved it. We had visited her church kind of as an after thought, and John had given one of those "I have a lesson prepared in case I am asked" lessons.
At another point, a young man from the church we had attended in San Pedro when we lived there stopped me. He told me how they were continuing Andrew's ministry with puppets and that it was impacting people. Andrew and I got involved with doing puppets because Andrew needed a way to serve. He had enjoyed working with some of the younger young people in the church, but we figured the ministry would die after he left.
Christina is a wonderful young woman, with three children. Her husband is studying at the seminary. They live in a small apartment above the library. She and her husband often help John sell books. In the course of one conversation she told me that she often remembers how I told her that she should enjoy her children and not worry so much if the house isn`t 100% perfect all the time. I don't remember even saying that (though it sounds like something I would say).
Influence. We influence people all the time by what we say and do and are. We never know what it is that is going to be significant to someone else. That's why it is all important. It matters how we live the ordinary.
There were a couple of moments that really impressed me. On the last day, a lady came up to John and told him how a Sunday School lesson he taught at their church had encouraged her. She had shared the same lesson in a couple of other contexts, and people had loved it. We had visited her church kind of as an after thought, and John had given one of those "I have a lesson prepared in case I am asked" lessons.
At another point, a young man from the church we had attended in San Pedro when we lived there stopped me. He told me how they were continuing Andrew's ministry with puppets and that it was impacting people. Andrew and I got involved with doing puppets because Andrew needed a way to serve. He had enjoyed working with some of the younger young people in the church, but we figured the ministry would die after he left.
Christina is a wonderful young woman, with three children. Her husband is studying at the seminary. They live in a small apartment above the library. She and her husband often help John sell books. In the course of one conversation she told me that she often remembers how I told her that she should enjoy her children and not worry so much if the house isn`t 100% perfect all the time. I don't remember even saying that (though it sounds like something I would say).
Influence. We influence people all the time by what we say and do and are. We never know what it is that is going to be significant to someone else. That's why it is all important. It matters how we live the ordinary.
lunes, 19 de enero de 2009
Problems and Perspective
I thought I had a great idea for a blog. I had had a frustrating morning trying to get some photocopies made. It took me four tries to find a place that could take the information on my memory stick and turn it into an original, then when I finally got to a place that could make the copies, the power went off in the middle of making my copies, so I only got half as many as I needed.
The story I had in mind, of course, was longer than that
and whinier.
Then I sat in a business meeting and heard the story of a group of men who are trying to keep a Christian Radio station on the air in southern Honduras. Here is a synopsis of the report that was given:
November 28, 2007--the station went off the air due to damage to their UHF receptor.
In this lapse of time there were legal problems because someone else wanted their frequency (since they weren't using it).
Six months later, May 8, 2008,the damaged receptor was repaired and they were back on the air.
Two weeks later, some tubes were damaged.
While they were installing the new tubes, there was a lightning strike which burned up several pieces of a transmitter and a condenser.
Resolving these problems, they got back on the air. In September, 2008, strong winds hit the area, breaking a high tension line which hit some kind of connector on the transmitter, breaking it. (I am not sure if it is the transmitter or the connector, but something broke.) It took 40 days to get someone to fix that for a price they could afford to pay.
Meanwhile, the power company cut the power.
As they were re-connecting the power, there was a power surge which burned up some tubes.
They got back on the air.
Then the guard, who left the station for a short time because his wife was having a baby, returned to discover that thieves had stolen 30 meters of copper wire.
The people who want their frequency continued to cause them legal problems. While they were working out these problems, they were hit again by lightning.
At this point, the decision is made to move the tower to a more strategic place, which involved carrying cement in buckets up a mountain to install the base.
I looked at the photocopies in my hand, and decided my morning had gone pretty well after all.
The story I had in mind, of course, was longer than that
and whinier.
Then I sat in a business meeting and heard the story of a group of men who are trying to keep a Christian Radio station on the air in southern Honduras. Here is a synopsis of the report that was given:
November 28, 2007--the station went off the air due to damage to their UHF receptor.
In this lapse of time there were legal problems because someone else wanted their frequency (since they weren't using it).
Six months later, May 8, 2008,the damaged receptor was repaired and they were back on the air.
Two weeks later, some tubes were damaged.
While they were installing the new tubes, there was a lightning strike which burned up several pieces of a transmitter and a condenser.
Resolving these problems, they got back on the air. In September, 2008, strong winds hit the area, breaking a high tension line which hit some kind of connector on the transmitter, breaking it. (I am not sure if it is the transmitter or the connector, but something broke.) It took 40 days to get someone to fix that for a price they could afford to pay.
Meanwhile, the power company cut the power.
As they were re-connecting the power, there was a power surge which burned up some tubes.
They got back on the air.
Then the guard, who left the station for a short time because his wife was having a baby, returned to discover that thieves had stolen 30 meters of copper wire.
The people who want their frequency continued to cause them legal problems. While they were working out these problems, they were hit again by lightning.
At this point, the decision is made to move the tower to a more strategic place, which involved carrying cement in buckets up a mountain to install the base.
I looked at the photocopies in my hand, and decided my morning had gone pretty well after all.
jueves, 15 de enero de 2009
Watching the inauguration
I don't know how many people around the world will watch the presidential inauguration next week. Millions and millions I suppose. We don't have a TV and very slow internet service, so have invited ourselves to a friend's house to watch it with her. My love for my country is probably typical of people who have spent a lot of their lives living outside of it. I can see her flaws with an outsider's eye, and her strengths with an insider's heart.
I know some people who are incredibly excited about the Obama presidency, I know others who are, well, not. I personally am praying that God will protect our new president and give him great wisdom and courage. Who would have thought that one of the most challenging moments of our country's history would intersect with this historic changing of the guard?
I know some people who are incredibly excited about the Obama presidency, I know others who are, well, not. I personally am praying that God will protect our new president and give him great wisdom and courage. Who would have thought that one of the most challenging moments of our country's history would intersect with this historic changing of the guard?
miércoles, 14 de enero de 2009
Playing UNO with Betty
UNO was the first game we learned to play in Spanish. It was easy to play and allowed for simple conversation. That particular set of cards went through a lot of "hands" and eventually we replaced with a new deck.
A couple of days ago, I played UNO with Betty and her kids. Her kids like to come to my house because I have games. Their favorite is the custom made Monopoly game that Andrew received for Christmas one year. (He got to name all the spaces, etc). There wasn´t enough time for Monopoly before dinner, so the three kids and I played a hand of UNO--Betty watched. The second hand, we talked her into playing and the third hand she won.
That might not sound like much to those who have spent countless hours playing a game with siblings, extended family or friends. Lots of people have a regular game night where they play some kind of game. Our friends, the Higers, love to play Cribbage, and even played it on airplanes, I think. But Betty had never played a game before in her life. When she was a girl, any free time she had was spent hauling water for her mother or cooking or whatever other chore her mother had for her. Playing of any kind was way outside her experience.
So many children in the world have childhoods like Betty's. The idea of "fun" isn't part of their lives. Children of war, children of poverty, children whose lives are hard work from the time they can walk on their own. Children who never get a chance to be children.
The amazing thing to me is that people grow up to be beautiful, content, loving people like Betty is. If you were talk to Betty about her childhood you would not hear a hint of bitterness in her voice. The leisure time to sit at the kitchen table and play a game was not so very important to her. Being loved and appreciated was.
I think playing games with kids is a great and important thing to do. Spending time with your kids doing most anything together is an important thing to do. But it's the loving that is expressed in doing those things that matters the most. "Though we play Monopoly and Uno and are experts at Cribbage and have not love..."
A couple of days ago, I played UNO with Betty and her kids. Her kids like to come to my house because I have games. Their favorite is the custom made Monopoly game that Andrew received for Christmas one year. (He got to name all the spaces, etc). There wasn´t enough time for Monopoly before dinner, so the three kids and I played a hand of UNO--Betty watched. The second hand, we talked her into playing and the third hand she won.
That might not sound like much to those who have spent countless hours playing a game with siblings, extended family or friends. Lots of people have a regular game night where they play some kind of game. Our friends, the Higers, love to play Cribbage, and even played it on airplanes, I think. But Betty had never played a game before in her life. When she was a girl, any free time she had was spent hauling water for her mother or cooking or whatever other chore her mother had for her. Playing of any kind was way outside her experience.
So many children in the world have childhoods like Betty's. The idea of "fun" isn't part of their lives. Children of war, children of poverty, children whose lives are hard work from the time they can walk on their own. Children who never get a chance to be children.
The amazing thing to me is that people grow up to be beautiful, content, loving people like Betty is. If you were talk to Betty about her childhood you would not hear a hint of bitterness in her voice. The leisure time to sit at the kitchen table and play a game was not so very important to her. Being loved and appreciated was.
I think playing games with kids is a great and important thing to do. Spending time with your kids doing most anything together is an important thing to do. But it's the loving that is expressed in doing those things that matters the most. "Though we play Monopoly and Uno and are experts at Cribbage and have not love..."
lunes, 12 de enero de 2009
The little old lady who lives on the curve in the road
There is a stretch of road between San Luis and Colinas that we drive with some frequency. Not every week or every month even, but quite a few times in the course of a year. We had been warned that it is a particularly dangerous piece of road--lots of robberies. Part of the road is in pretty good condition and part is not. There are a couple of places on the bad part of the road where a curve requires a driver to slow way down, and thieves have been known to take advantage of that spot to ply their trade. We haven't had any trouble. Our car is not the kind that attracts much attention and we don't travel that road at night.
John was forced to stop there once when a truck blocked the road. The truck driver said he needed a ride up the hill. Scarey moment. It turned out that the truck really had broken down on the worst possible spot on the road and the driver needed a ride back up the hill to where he could get a cell phone signal to call for help.
Like I said, it is a road with a lot of curves and after driving it quite a few times, certain curves have begun to have a particular identity in my mind. The curve with the pretty fence, the curve with the school, the "be careful to not stop there" curve, for example. One curve I think of as "the house of the little old lady." The house is maybe closer to Colinas than San Luis, right before the road gets bad or the road gets better, depending on which direction you are driving. A tiny, elderly lady is almost always standing outside of the house which is part adobe- part stick and mud-part plastic tarp. Invariably, she is waving. Not the kind of wave that says "hello, I'm glad you are driving by my house," but the kind of wave that says, "stop and talk to me." I had always figured she was perhaps a bit senial. "Poor thing¨ I would think as we drove by.
Then, today in the paper, I saw the face of my tiny -little-old -lady -who -lives -on -the -curve- in -the- road. The picture showed an elderly lady like a thousand other elderly country women in Honduras-- short, thin, stocking cap on her head, face lined with a hundred wrinkles, a bundle of fire wood on her head, yet I knew it was her. A glance at the article proved me right. As it turns out, Doña Telma Angelina, 82, is the sole support of her invalid daughter, who has not walked for ten years. The article in the paper began like this: "Every time she hears a car coming by, she rushes out of her humble house to ask for money."--not because her mind has gone, not to entertain herself on a sunny day, but because she has no other recourse.
A nurse had become aware of Doña Telma's situation and called the newspaper. They sent a reporter, who told her story with the hope that people would respond to her need. I think people will. There are a lot of very generous Hondurans.
I don't tell the story because I feel guilty for not stopping to talk to Doña Telma. There was no particular reason that I should have understood just by seeing her wave. The story impresses me because it emphasizes the fact that everyone has a story. No one is just, "the little old lady who lives on the curve of the road." That is her place in my story, but it is not her story. Her own story is ever so much more eloquent than that.
John was forced to stop there once when a truck blocked the road. The truck driver said he needed a ride up the hill. Scarey moment. It turned out that the truck really had broken down on the worst possible spot on the road and the driver needed a ride back up the hill to where he could get a cell phone signal to call for help.
Like I said, it is a road with a lot of curves and after driving it quite a few times, certain curves have begun to have a particular identity in my mind. The curve with the pretty fence, the curve with the school, the "be careful to not stop there" curve, for example. One curve I think of as "the house of the little old lady." The house is maybe closer to Colinas than San Luis, right before the road gets bad or the road gets better, depending on which direction you are driving. A tiny, elderly lady is almost always standing outside of the house which is part adobe- part stick and mud-part plastic tarp. Invariably, she is waving. Not the kind of wave that says "hello, I'm glad you are driving by my house," but the kind of wave that says, "stop and talk to me." I had always figured she was perhaps a bit senial. "Poor thing¨ I would think as we drove by.
Then, today in the paper, I saw the face of my tiny -little-old -lady -who -lives -on -the -curve- in -the- road. The picture showed an elderly lady like a thousand other elderly country women in Honduras-- short, thin, stocking cap on her head, face lined with a hundred wrinkles, a bundle of fire wood on her head, yet I knew it was her. A glance at the article proved me right. As it turns out, Doña Telma Angelina, 82, is the sole support of her invalid daughter, who has not walked for ten years. The article in the paper began like this: "Every time she hears a car coming by, she rushes out of her humble house to ask for money."--not because her mind has gone, not to entertain herself on a sunny day, but because she has no other recourse.
A nurse had become aware of Doña Telma's situation and called the newspaper. They sent a reporter, who told her story with the hope that people would respond to her need. I think people will. There are a lot of very generous Hondurans.
I don't tell the story because I feel guilty for not stopping to talk to Doña Telma. There was no particular reason that I should have understood just by seeing her wave. The story impresses me because it emphasizes the fact that everyone has a story. No one is just, "the little old lady who lives on the curve of the road." That is her place in my story, but it is not her story. Her own story is ever so much more eloquent than that.
sábado, 10 de enero de 2009
Pictures 2
One of things I've been doing lately is going through old picture albums. We are trying to downsize in order to get our library of books into a much smaller space and that has included trying to get rid of duplicate or not so good pictures. Pictures on the computer don`t count, of course. I quite easily got rid of my offending "fat" Christmas picture with a click of a mouse, but it didn`t free up any space on a bookshelf. I have managed to eliminate about four albums worth of pictures, which is great, and have relived a lot of my kids' childhoods, which has been even greater. They are four very fine people. I can't think of a stage of life when they weren't a delight to my heart. Not perfect people, of course, but people of integrity and courage. I love my kids.
Pictures 1
The first day of the seminars we do for couples in ministry, we take a picture of each couple. Then the ladies make a pretty frame to put it in and they take it home as a remembrance of the days we have had together. Some couples are quick to put an arm around each other and smile for the camera, other couples have to be reminded that they are supposed to at least look like friends. Almost always there is someone who isn't satisfied with the first picture and ask me to take another one. Since it is often the only picture they will have as a couple, I don`t mind redoing one or two, even though I can rarely see what was wrong with the first one. Its a fun activity that means a lot to them. I enjoy doing it. Digital cameras make it even more fun when I can crop the picture or brighten up the colors and things like that.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) going through pictures on the computer when we got home to Santa Barbara I came across one taken at Christmas-- face to face with a picture of myself. Oh my goodness! Where did all those extra pounds come from? There was no cropping or brightening that was going to fix it! There I was in all my chubby glory (and no, I am not going to put the picture on the blog so you can see for yourself).
I have never been much for New Year's resolutions, particularly ones related to weight, but me thinks the time has come. I have the disadvantage of not having anyone who is really going to hold me accountable. (John loves me like I am, bless his heart.) So, will you. my blog reader friend?
Happy New Year
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) going through pictures on the computer when we got home to Santa Barbara I came across one taken at Christmas-- face to face with a picture of myself. Oh my goodness! Where did all those extra pounds come from? There was no cropping or brightening that was going to fix it! There I was in all my chubby glory (and no, I am not going to put the picture on the blog so you can see for yourself).
I have never been much for New Year's resolutions, particularly ones related to weight, but me thinks the time has come. I have the disadvantage of not having anyone who is really going to hold me accountable. (John loves me like I am, bless his heart.) So, will you. my blog reader friend?
Happy New Year
jueves, 8 de enero de 2009
solar ovens
We just got back from most of a week in Choluteca, in southern Honduras. The weather there is hot like in Panama, except that it is a dry heat. The days we were there were really nice, as far as I was concerned. Reminded me of Panama a lot, at least Panama when it was "cool."
We went to do a pastor/wives seminar with another couple. They did a lot of the teaching, so it was a much easier week than the last time we did a seminar and had to do it all ourselves. Besides the teaching, John took a long a solar oven and each day we cooked something different in it.(chicken and rice the first day, meat and potatoes the second and a pot of beans the third)
John has been interested in sun ovens for a long time, and Choluteca just seemed like a perfect place to promote them. Lots and lots of sunshine. the second day was just a bit cloudy, but even so the food was cooked by lunch time. Everyone was fascinated and they were all willing to "help us out" with our solar oven project. We left the oven we with a young couple who live in an area that is Mongrove swamp. No cutting of trees is allowed, so wood for cooking is scarce, expensive and sometimes illegal. They were really pleased and I think they will really give a go at using it. We have about 8 more ovens at home we will get to some of the other couples and have a source of several more. It was exciting to me because this has been one of John's dreams for a long time. To actually have people excited about using it is really special.
We went to do a pastor/wives seminar with another couple. They did a lot of the teaching, so it was a much easier week than the last time we did a seminar and had to do it all ourselves. Besides the teaching, John took a long a solar oven and each day we cooked something different in it.(chicken and rice the first day, meat and potatoes the second and a pot of beans the third)
John has been interested in sun ovens for a long time, and Choluteca just seemed like a perfect place to promote them. Lots and lots of sunshine. the second day was just a bit cloudy, but even so the food was cooked by lunch time. Everyone was fascinated and they were all willing to "help us out" with our solar oven project. We left the oven we with a young couple who live in an area that is Mongrove swamp. No cutting of trees is allowed, so wood for cooking is scarce, expensive and sometimes illegal. They were really pleased and I think they will really give a go at using it. We have about 8 more ovens at home we will get to some of the other couples and have a source of several more. It was exciting to me because this has been one of John's dreams for a long time. To actually have people excited about using it is really special.
viernes, 2 de enero de 2009
Living in a library
It is a long standing family joke that we live in a library. John's extensive study library has been his answer to seminary, our many children's books the answer to living where there was no public library to speak of and books on spirituality, family issues and peacemaking my answer to an unquenchable thirst to learn in those areas. Browsing bookstores is a family tradition, buying a book a treat, reading a book a delight, getting rid of a book really hard.
Since moving to Santa Barbara, we have been renting office space, which we have used as classroom, dorm room for pastors at the post grado and library. Unfortunately, the office has flooded several times (books and water are not a good combination). That, and the several other factors convinced us that it is time to give up the office, and bring "everything" to the house.
Actually bringing "everything" to the house would have meant that we wouldn`t have had room to live in the house, so we have started the process of sorting out what we really need and what we could send on to a new home. We've done everything from getting rid of an extra bed to getting rid of extra tupperware. Little by little, the library is getting weeded out. Every box of books sent to a new home has meant saying goodbye to old friends. With bookshelves on just about every available wall, our house does still, indeed, look like a library. A more streamlined library, perhaps, but still pretty significant in an age when a lot of people don`t seem to read much at all.
One of my favorite quotes on reading is from Mark Twain who said, "he who does not read has no advantage or he who cannot read." Books have challenged me to keep thinking and learning. Books have helped me see beyond the boundaries of my somewhat limited experience to understand the world beyond my vision. Books have made me laugh and cry. They have made me angry, filled me with awe, put me to sleep, wakened me to something new. I like turning the pages. I like reading in the house, in the car, under a tree, at the beach, in waiting rooms. I especially like reading with children. I do not mind at all living in a library.
Since moving to Santa Barbara, we have been renting office space, which we have used as classroom, dorm room for pastors at the post grado and library. Unfortunately, the office has flooded several times (books and water are not a good combination). That, and the several other factors convinced us that it is time to give up the office, and bring "everything" to the house.
Actually bringing "everything" to the house would have meant that we wouldn`t have had room to live in the house, so we have started the process of sorting out what we really need and what we could send on to a new home. We've done everything from getting rid of an extra bed to getting rid of extra tupperware. Little by little, the library is getting weeded out. Every box of books sent to a new home has meant saying goodbye to old friends. With bookshelves on just about every available wall, our house does still, indeed, look like a library. A more streamlined library, perhaps, but still pretty significant in an age when a lot of people don`t seem to read much at all.
One of my favorite quotes on reading is from Mark Twain who said, "he who does not read has no advantage or he who cannot read." Books have challenged me to keep thinking and learning. Books have helped me see beyond the boundaries of my somewhat limited experience to understand the world beyond my vision. Books have made me laugh and cry. They have made me angry, filled me with awe, put me to sleep, wakened me to something new. I like turning the pages. I like reading in the house, in the car, under a tree, at the beach, in waiting rooms. I especially like reading with children. I do not mind at all living in a library.
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