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.

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.  

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.