Ticket for Iguazu has been bought. We found a deal for 107 dollar tickets. Not bad at all. I'll have to wait till I get there to buy my return ticket since I have to go to Buenos Aires to leave the country (Uruguay) since it's been six months since I last left. Crazy how time flies. The point though, is I'm excited to share one of Sarah's final weeks here with her and to see Niagra Falls on steroids. Should be fun!
Youth group didn't happen when I went to Jujuy, BUT apparently around 30 youth came for the Sunday event our church held in the local plaza. Carol, who is one of the faithful members brought ALL her friends. How fun is that?
I've paid a couple visits to Betania and Florencia's house lately. They are a couple of our young adults who live nearby and attend the church. It has been a blessing to encourage, be encouraged, and just enjoy maté together.
There is a possibility to help with a camp ministry from August to December. Specifically, to teach juggling. While speaking English. Some coincidences seem too perfect to be called thus. I'm a fan of God's coordination.
Chau for now.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Compilation of diary notes, etc. on Jujuy
"You're going to Jujuy?" Marcos asked me. "You know that's the second best province in Argentina?"
"Oh yeah? What's the first?" I asked. "Buenos Aires?"
"First is Salta, you salt-a, and then you say Jujuy!" (Obviously better translated in Spanish, but I enjoyed the pun. Saltar means "to jump", and Jujuy is pronounced as "hoo-hoo-ey". Sort of like "Wee!")
Roadtrip to Jujuy: Sitting next to two boys who truly do not know the meaning of enough. At least they are small and I had much more space to sleep compared to the trip to Chaco. (But honestly, not so bad being next to them. They're still growing, and brothers fight. That's life.)
Riding with a family also means stopping. Stopping to make our initials in the salt plains; stopping for a 2 hour lunch with an old acquaintance; almost stopping to see a momma pig and her chanchitas on the side of the road.
Thoughts on Jujuy: I have a strange sense of calm here. My dreams are tranquil and vivid. When we drove down the main street I kept thinking about how much it reminds me of Krasnodar, Russia. Why don't more main streets have a central walking zone? And of course, a seasoning of 1960s Sanz Peña with every Warhol-color-palette inspired store sign.
The ministry is volunteer-based. I came to share my life with those I meet, and to serve Raúl and Andrea with whatever they might lack. I call this old school missionary time. Look for the needs of the church and put your hands to the wheel. Sometimes you need a plan, sometimes you bring just enough money to get you where you're going then start praying to God to get you (safely) back.
Have I mentioned that I gave all I had brought with me to help pay for gas?
Moments from Saturday: Antonio (momentary father figure for the weekend) made toast for me and even brought out goat cheese, from a family friend's farm, to share.
I have been asked on more than 7 occasions whether or not I am the daughter of Andrea. She makes it clear with everyone that it's because I look so young and not that she looks so old. hehe.
Right after the morning worship my name was called twice. Once, by Luis, who comically would call me "Semilla" (means "seed") when he didn't feel like saying my name correctly. The next, by Jor, who was playing "In the Light" and wanted to make sure that he got the English words correct. This was followed by "Cuan Grande es Dios" which we sang together--I in English, he in Spanish until the final chorus sung in Spanish. Pretty cool. Then he played another song which I recognized but could not remember until the very end. Everyone by this time was singing along and that's when it clicked: "Because He lives... I can face tomorrow..."
Instead of utilizing my only free time to nap, I taught Daniel the basics of "Heart and Soul" on the old house piano. How he made me laugh as he would talk so rapidly to gain the courage to continue. Praying to the Lord, even leaving his place from the piano to fall to his knees and raise his arms, "Dios. Por favor! Ayudanos a hacer tres veces. Sólo tres veces te pido!" We had a routine to touch a small cross, touch a heart and swan decor sitting atop the piano. I kept thinking about how beautiful was this shared moment that I could have missed.
The nights have been what I've always imagined for revivals. We perform short evangelical dramas followed by Raúl's sermonettes. An invitation calls up a small group forward and they pray. A line forms to receive blessings from the pastor; people share their hearts with the rest of us.
I was surprised by a small attack of pre-adolescents when I entered the nightly meeting. They all wanted to sit with me and give me their jewelry. "Now you have to remember me," said Priscilla. They make me smile on the inside as well--knowing how I can just be a servant to them during the youth group meeting during the early afternoon--then set an example of listening to the good news in the evening.
Then comes Sunday: LOCRO!!!!! Locro is a typical South American dish made especially for the winter months. It's a corn soup with meat. And well, Lent is over, so let the carne begin!!! hehe. Actually, the meat is what got me into trouble. We had an all-church Easter lunch (as seen to the left) of locro, and my plate lacked meat. I asked for a little more, but specified that I just wanted la carne. Instead, she plopped another bowlful into my already overflowing bowl. When I couldn't eat it all, everyone looked at me, jokingly, "You know, a good missionary will eat all the food in front of her." So I joked back and switched plates with someone else.
That evening was one in which I was overwhelmed with joy. The music was just the right mix: Te Pertenezco, Al Rey Hosanna and From the Inside Out (of course in Spanish), that I had a great urge to dance. So I got my ahem.. posse.. to join me in some basic moves while we sang. They all laughed at goofy me, but I didn't mind.
We enjoyed more locro for dinner. Regrouping at the church to say our goodbyes and praise God for a great three evenings. I was blessed to walk with Quuime and we sang all the way: Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest... It was fun to hear her accent, she did not necessarily know the words, but the sounds the words make.
Back home: I enjoyed Jujuy because of the people. One evening in the plaza with Marisel. All the days with the Iriartes enjoying conversation. Plenty of laughter during the drama rehearsals. An afternoon with around 50 preteens playing crazy games.
Then again, I also thoroughly enjoyed the landscape.
Seeing the mountains every day (and not just in certain parts of town) brought back the Colorado views I loved most. The town is small enough to see the stars at night too--something I utilized during an evening run.
To the right is a typical road trip picture with the Huertas. You've got your bag of criollos, your very necessary yerba for on-the-road mate, and a buena vista. Tropical covered mountains. Mmm.. I look forward to coming back, Lord willing!
Chau.
"Oh yeah? What's the first?" I asked. "Buenos Aires?"
"First is Salta, you salt-a, and then you say Jujuy!" (Obviously better translated in Spanish, but I enjoyed the pun. Saltar means "to jump", and Jujuy is pronounced as "hoo-hoo-ey". Sort of like "Wee!")
Roadtrip to Jujuy: Sitting next to two boys who truly do not know the meaning of enough. At least they are small and I had much more space to sleep compared to the trip to Chaco. (But honestly, not so bad being next to them. They're still growing, and brothers fight. That's life.)
 |
| Saw it on the way back, too. Bazinga. |
Thoughts on Jujuy: I have a strange sense of calm here. My dreams are tranquil and vivid. When we drove down the main street I kept thinking about how much it reminds me of Krasnodar, Russia. Why don't more main streets have a central walking zone? And of course, a seasoning of 1960s Sanz Peña with every Warhol-color-palette inspired store sign.
The ministry is volunteer-based. I came to share my life with those I meet, and to serve Raúl and Andrea with whatever they might lack. I call this old school missionary time. Look for the needs of the church and put your hands to the wheel. Sometimes you need a plan, sometimes you bring just enough money to get you where you're going then start praying to God to get you (safely) back.
Have I mentioned that I gave all I had brought with me to help pay for gas?
Moments from Saturday: Antonio (momentary father figure for the weekend) made toast for me and even brought out goat cheese, from a family friend's farm, to share.
I have been asked on more than 7 occasions whether or not I am the daughter of Andrea. She makes it clear with everyone that it's because I look so young and not that she looks so old. hehe.
Right after the morning worship my name was called twice. Once, by Luis, who comically would call me "Semilla" (means "seed") when he didn't feel like saying my name correctly. The next, by Jor, who was playing "In the Light" and wanted to make sure that he got the English words correct. This was followed by "Cuan Grande es Dios" which we sang together--I in English, he in Spanish until the final chorus sung in Spanish. Pretty cool. Then he played another song which I recognized but could not remember until the very end. Everyone by this time was singing along and that's when it clicked: "Because He lives... I can face tomorrow..."
 |
| Who wouldn't love hanging out with this kid? |
The nights have been what I've always imagined for revivals. We perform short evangelical dramas followed by Raúl's sermonettes. An invitation calls up a small group forward and they pray. A line forms to receive blessings from the pastor; people share their hearts with the rest of us.
I was surprised by a small attack of pre-adolescents when I entered the nightly meeting. They all wanted to sit with me and give me their jewelry. "Now you have to remember me," said Priscilla. They make me smile on the inside as well--knowing how I can just be a servant to them during the youth group meeting during the early afternoon--then set an example of listening to the good news in the evening.
That evening was one in which I was overwhelmed with joy. The music was just the right mix: Te Pertenezco, Al Rey Hosanna and From the Inside Out (of course in Spanish), that I had a great urge to dance. So I got my ahem.. posse.. to join me in some basic moves while we sang. They all laughed at goofy me, but I didn't mind.
We enjoyed more locro for dinner. Regrouping at the church to say our goodbyes and praise God for a great three evenings. I was blessed to walk with Quuime and we sang all the way: Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest... It was fun to hear her accent, she did not necessarily know the words, but the sounds the words make.
Back home: I enjoyed Jujuy because of the people. One evening in the plaza with Marisel. All the days with the Iriartes enjoying conversation. Plenty of laughter during the drama rehearsals. An afternoon with around 50 preteens playing crazy games.
 |
| Los Iriartes |
Then again, I also thoroughly enjoyed the landscape.Seeing the mountains every day (and not just in certain parts of town) brought back the Colorado views I loved most. The town is small enough to see the stars at night too--something I utilized during an evening run.
To the right is a typical road trip picture with the Huertas. You've got your bag of criollos, your very necessary yerba for on-the-road mate, and a buena vista. Tropical covered mountains. Mmm.. I look forward to coming back, Lord willing!
Chau.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Feeling Argentinian
 |
| 30 pesos = 7.50 USD |
It was such a happy atmosphere too. Sarah and I walking up to get the "missionary" discount, and joining literally thousands of people looking for something creative (not hard to find).
I got all sorts of treats, mainly for family or friends (so I can't tell you what I got until I get back), but I did get one thing for me. Another maté. This one is made of metal, so that means I don't have to prepare it like one made of a gourd (more traditional) or one made of wood (which I have from Puerto Madryn).
So while I did my Monday morning cooking routine, I decided to prepare myself some Yerba. Oh I'm soooooo Argentinian now! hehe. Excuse me, jeje.
 |
| yummy yummy Orange flavored yerba!! |
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Saving the planet one small child at a time
Today for Escuelita we decided to get everyone together to help clean the plaza in which we play. Naturally, we started with the games just to make sure they still had some fun (wink). Then we also had to entice them with some sort of prize for filling up a plastic bag with trash.
Aside: so thankful that this plaza is not as full of gross trash as the other.
Any way, I got to cleaning, purposefully setting myself by Juancito, a son of one of our church goers. Being one of the youngest at Escuelita, he often just plays on the swings the whole time until his momma comes to pick him up.
"Juancito," I said, "You wanna get a prize?"
"No."
"Ok then." I keep cleaning for a minute or two.
He was pensive, and I pretended not to notice. "Well.. what's the prize?" he inquired.
"I won't say. It's a surprise!"
"A surprise?! What's the surprise?!"
"The prize," I chuckled.
Another minute passes by while Juancito continues to watch me.
"What do I have to do to win the prize?"
I smile. "Oh it's so easy! All you have to do is fill up a bag with trash that makes this plaza so dirty."
He grabbed a bag and immediately got to work, grabbing a handful of grass. "Can I just stuff the bag with pasto?" (pronounced pah-stow)
"No... but things like this," I show him an example of torn newspaper.
I worked by his side and kept saying how great he was doing. "And look!" he would shout. "I found more over here!!"
Aside: it's just got to be a competition...
At one point he stopped and looked at me. We had encouraged another young boy about his age to help us too, and this one was very enthusiastic about finding more trash to throw away. Juancito commented, "We need to clean up the trash to take care of our planet, don't we?"
"You are absolutely right," I replied. "Because we only have one earth that God gave us."
"We need to clean up the planet that God gave us," he reassured himself. The other boy said it too.
My hope is to teach the young ones to set an example for the rest of us. Though slightly discouraged to see a giant plume of smoke rise from the Las Violetas area as a sign of burning trash (what timing), I told myself that things can change. If we keep up this pattern of cleaning up the plaza every few weeks, perhaps the kids will be more adamant about keeping it clean. Perhaps they'll turn in disgust the way I do as I walk the neighborhoods and see trash everywhere. Saddened when someone unwraps their candy or what-have-you and just tosses the wrapper to the ground.
Perhaps they'll want to make a difference by putting things in their proper place... chau.
-----
UPDATE: Just talked with a parent of another kid who had helped clean up. Apparently he had come home on Saturday and proudly said, "Mom! I helped put order to the plaza today!" She told me about how excited he was to put hands to the things he is learning about at school.
"They teach the kids to take care of the planet, but they don't always get opportunities to do so," she told me.
We continued to discuss how dangerous some of the plazas are that are full of broken glass and needles. I have had other conversations about the plastic bag regulation some stores are instilling, and the new recycle bins in some of the more popular areas of the city. I have higher hopes for the cleanliness of Cordoba, but I must remember that it's something that will take time.
Aside: so thankful that this plaza is not as full of gross trash as the other.
Any way, I got to cleaning, purposefully setting myself by Juancito, a son of one of our church goers. Being one of the youngest at Escuelita, he often just plays on the swings the whole time until his momma comes to pick him up.
"Juancito," I said, "You wanna get a prize?"
"No."
"Ok then." I keep cleaning for a minute or two.
He was pensive, and I pretended not to notice. "Well.. what's the prize?" he inquired.
"I won't say. It's a surprise!"
"A surprise?! What's the surprise?!"
"The prize," I chuckled.
Another minute passes by while Juancito continues to watch me.
"What do I have to do to win the prize?"
I smile. "Oh it's so easy! All you have to do is fill up a bag with trash that makes this plaza so dirty."
He grabbed a bag and immediately got to work, grabbing a handful of grass. "Can I just stuff the bag with pasto?" (pronounced pah-stow)
"No... but things like this," I show him an example of torn newspaper.
I worked by his side and kept saying how great he was doing. "And look!" he would shout. "I found more over here!!"
Aside: it's just got to be a competition...
At one point he stopped and looked at me. We had encouraged another young boy about his age to help us too, and this one was very enthusiastic about finding more trash to throw away. Juancito commented, "We need to clean up the trash to take care of our planet, don't we?"
"You are absolutely right," I replied. "Because we only have one earth that God gave us."
"We need to clean up the planet that God gave us," he reassured himself. The other boy said it too.
My hope is to teach the young ones to set an example for the rest of us. Though slightly discouraged to see a giant plume of smoke rise from the Las Violetas area as a sign of burning trash (what timing), I told myself that things can change. If we keep up this pattern of cleaning up the plaza every few weeks, perhaps the kids will be more adamant about keeping it clean. Perhaps they'll turn in disgust the way I do as I walk the neighborhoods and see trash everywhere. Saddened when someone unwraps their candy or what-have-you and just tosses the wrapper to the ground.
Perhaps they'll want to make a difference by putting things in their proper place... chau.
-----
UPDATE: Just talked with a parent of another kid who had helped clean up. Apparently he had come home on Saturday and proudly said, "Mom! I helped put order to the plaza today!" She told me about how excited he was to put hands to the things he is learning about at school.
"They teach the kids to take care of the planet, but they don't always get opportunities to do so," she told me.
We continued to discuss how dangerous some of the plazas are that are full of broken glass and needles. I have had other conversations about the plastic bag regulation some stores are instilling, and the new recycle bins in some of the more popular areas of the city. I have higher hopes for the cleanliness of Cordoba, but I must remember that it's something that will take time.
Friday, April 15, 2011
The morning after
If you haven’t read the blog about three birthday parties, I suggest you do so here.
Otherwise, you're just going to get a few more details. Like this morning's. I woke up to my alarm. I always keep my alarm set for either 7am or 8:30am. I gave myself some grace, but also knew that I needed to get back to the house to insure no one would worry about me.
I had received a facebook invite to a friend's mom's birthday party. Later, I found out it was also another friend's birthday and they would be celebrating together. But that's normal. Normal to share parties for economic sake, and normal to be invited when you only sort-of know someone (but also okay if you're just a stranger as well).
When I joined the crowd, I recognized most of the faces. I still struggle to meet every single person upon arrival with an air kiss on the right cheek. It's an expectation that makes me wish I arrived earlier so I wouldn't have to go up to as many people. 'It's nicer when they come to me,' I think selfishly. But I'm getting used to it.
Typically there's chorizo, empanadas and hamburgers to go around. Coca cola, Pritty/Suitty (rivals in the carbonated beverage industry), as well as Fernet (an alcoholic beverage you add to Coke).
We sit around and chat about all sorts of things. Many people that I meet for the first time like to converse about my strange name, and often take several minutes trying to figure it out. They often give up, "Ah! No me sale bien!" I just reassure them that I know who they're talking to when they try.
Fer and I started a game of naming mammals, and everyone to my surprise joined us. The one rule was there were no repeats, and it was funny to see everyone get excited about remembering another mammal.
I find myself getting to parties, but not always knowing how I get home. The bus isn't always reliable, and sometimes out of the way. I've hitched rides when necessary. It's just whatever you choose, you don't leave early. Last night no one would let me walk to the bus stop alone (and had the typical five minute argument about whether it's still running that late any way), so my new friend Fany offered me her bed. We had a mini-sleepover as another girl who lives near me stayed too.
We giggled till about 3am and I felt like a teenager again. Tired, but happy. Home, but no quite. I especially loved the fresh morning air as I sleepily headed back to the bus stop. Yawning, I crawled back into bed with every intention of sleeping till noon (I was successful I might add).
Otherwise, you're just going to get a few more details. Like this morning's. I woke up to my alarm. I always keep my alarm set for either 7am or 8:30am. I gave myself some grace, but also knew that I needed to get back to the house to insure no one would worry about me.
I had received a facebook invite to a friend's mom's birthday party. Later, I found out it was also another friend's birthday and they would be celebrating together. But that's normal. Normal to share parties for economic sake, and normal to be invited when you only sort-of know someone (but also okay if you're just a stranger as well).
When I joined the crowd, I recognized most of the faces. I still struggle to meet every single person upon arrival with an air kiss on the right cheek. It's an expectation that makes me wish I arrived earlier so I wouldn't have to go up to as many people. 'It's nicer when they come to me,' I think selfishly. But I'm getting used to it.
Typically there's chorizo, empanadas and hamburgers to go around. Coca cola, Pritty/Suitty (rivals in the carbonated beverage industry), as well as Fernet (an alcoholic beverage you add to Coke).
We sit around and chat about all sorts of things. Many people that I meet for the first time like to converse about my strange name, and often take several minutes trying to figure it out. They often give up, "Ah! No me sale bien!" I just reassure them that I know who they're talking to when they try.
Fer and I started a game of naming mammals, and everyone to my surprise joined us. The one rule was there were no repeats, and it was funny to see everyone get excited about remembering another mammal.
I find myself getting to parties, but not always knowing how I get home. The bus isn't always reliable, and sometimes out of the way. I've hitched rides when necessary. It's just whatever you choose, you don't leave early. Last night no one would let me walk to the bus stop alone (and had the typical five minute argument about whether it's still running that late any way), so my new friend Fany offered me her bed. We had a mini-sleepover as another girl who lives near me stayed too.
We giggled till about 3am and I felt like a teenager again. Tired, but happy. Home, but no quite. I especially loved the fresh morning air as I sleepily headed back to the bus stop. Yawning, I crawled back into bed with every intention of sleeping till noon (I was successful I might add).
To the point of no return
I began this post in the middle of March. Currently reading another book of the Bible, but needed to get this out there...
As I continue to read Jeremiah, I come face to face with the reality of how much God desires and requires justice for His people. His eyes are always on the oppressed (you can see this trend in Psalms as well); he always asks for us to take care of widows and orphans. These ideas broaden my perspective on what it means to be a missionary as well.
Why are we here? We are here to give our lives. The best phrase I know that sums it up is "To know Him and make Him known." Who are we, and where is here is something worth mentioning. We generally refers to Christians. Here includes wherever you are with the opportunity to serve for the sake of Christ. This last sentence should help us realize that it's not always a particular place, but exactly where we've been planted. However, no one ever said it was going to be easy. Just take a look at the life of most of the prophets with books named after them to know this.
In particular, Jeremiah reaches a point in which he says, "I wish I had never been born!"
Immediately the life of Job came to mind. I'm pretty sure he had said something about wishing he'd never escaped from his mother's womb too. Or something of that graphic nature... What I'm trying to say is both had really great relationships with God, and yet both regret being alive.
These terse paragraphs are weak descriptions of something bigger. To summarize, we are small. We are called by God in the midst of our smallness to serve Him around the world. At first, most of us (see Moses) think it has to do with who we are (or if we're wise like Jeremiah, we realize He's crazy for picking us when He can do the job so much better!). After awhile, we start to see the bigger picture of what God is talking about.
Namely, to love justice, show mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
It's not until we see the world (which includes a lot of our carnal nature) for what she truly is that we too become angry at the despicable nature of sin. That's the point at which we wish we had never come to be in the first place. When we see sin for what it is, it's something we realize we don't want anything to do with any more.
Paul talks about this in Philippians. He knows that to just get the death thing over with and be with Christ is so much better, but for the sake of the church he remains. Job, Jeremiah, Paul... showing that one can long for death, yet live in glorious expectation. After all, once you come this far, there's no turning back.
Chau.
As I continue to read Jeremiah, I come face to face with the reality of how much God desires and requires justice for His people. His eyes are always on the oppressed (you can see this trend in Psalms as well); he always asks for us to take care of widows and orphans. These ideas broaden my perspective on what it means to be a missionary as well.
Why are we here? We are here to give our lives. The best phrase I know that sums it up is "To know Him and make Him known." Who are we, and where is here is something worth mentioning. We generally refers to Christians. Here includes wherever you are with the opportunity to serve for the sake of Christ. This last sentence should help us realize that it's not always a particular place, but exactly where we've been planted. However, no one ever said it was going to be easy. Just take a look at the life of most of the prophets with books named after them to know this.
In particular, Jeremiah reaches a point in which he says, "I wish I had never been born!"
Immediately the life of Job came to mind. I'm pretty sure he had said something about wishing he'd never escaped from his mother's womb too. Or something of that graphic nature... What I'm trying to say is both had really great relationships with God, and yet both regret being alive.
These terse paragraphs are weak descriptions of something bigger. To summarize, we are small. We are called by God in the midst of our smallness to serve Him around the world. At first, most of us (see Moses) think it has to do with who we are (or if we're wise like Jeremiah, we realize He's crazy for picking us when He can do the job so much better!). After awhile, we start to see the bigger picture of what God is talking about.
Namely, to love justice, show mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
It's not until we see the world (which includes a lot of our carnal nature) for what she truly is that we too become angry at the despicable nature of sin. That's the point at which we wish we had never come to be in the first place. When we see sin for what it is, it's something we realize we don't want anything to do with any more.
Paul talks about this in Philippians. He knows that to just get the death thing over with and be with Christ is so much better, but for the sake of the church he remains. Job, Jeremiah, Paul... showing that one can long for death, yet live in glorious expectation. After all, once you come this far, there's no turning back.
Chau.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Just another day in L.V.
Mondays, I've been assisting in Las Violetas. Namely, helping out with Maria Sol in el Refugio, who teaches basic handcrafts. It's a great way for kids to spend some time after school away from some of the more dark pockets of that neighborhood, and to learn a little bit about the Bible.
Work in el Refugio is not easy. Similar to the boys institute work, you have children who don't know what it's liked to be loved. Most of these children come from bigger families living in homes built for 2 (according to standards in the States); parents engulfed in drugs or drinking; older brothers and sisters already starting families around the ages of 15 or 16 if not sooner. They lack attention, and very much lack discipline.
You'll have some sweet kids in there--the Santis and the Katis that just want to show you their talents. Today Santi talked up a storm and was very helpful throughout the time of pasting the newspaper onto the small rectangles of cardboard. "Enseño, mira!"
But as I've said before and say again, Las Violetas is hard. I pray on my walk over there. Pray for safety, pray for a desire to clean up. Trash is tossed nonchalantly to the ground, and the smell of sewage is pungent. I prayed hard when a group of teenagers much bigger than I passed close by (we all walk in the middle of the street) because I could smell the marijuana and was on the brink of gagging. I know these kids need Jesus, and it is heartbreaking to think about a dim future for children who are loved by God full of grace. It reminds me of a verse in Philippians that begins much like this paragraph:
For as I have told you often before and now say again with great tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, the god is their stomach, their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.
It seems to me that the need is to help them look up. In the U.S., we are all taught that dreams are possible. That whatever the obstacle, we can attain it as long as we put our mind to it. Here, they do not have the same luxury of thinking further than the present. How could we teach them to stop looking at what everyone else is doing, and start dreaming? Taking that a step further, to set their eyes on Christ, who by the power that enables him, will put all things under his control and transform us!
Chau.
Work in el Refugio is not easy. Similar to the boys institute work, you have children who don't know what it's liked to be loved. Most of these children come from bigger families living in homes built for 2 (according to standards in the States); parents engulfed in drugs or drinking; older brothers and sisters already starting families around the ages of 15 or 16 if not sooner. They lack attention, and very much lack discipline.
You'll have some sweet kids in there--the Santis and the Katis that just want to show you their talents. Today Santi talked up a storm and was very helpful throughout the time of pasting the newspaper onto the small rectangles of cardboard. "Enseño, mira!"
But as I've said before and say again, Las Violetas is hard. I pray on my walk over there. Pray for safety, pray for a desire to clean up. Trash is tossed nonchalantly to the ground, and the smell of sewage is pungent. I prayed hard when a group of teenagers much bigger than I passed close by (we all walk in the middle of the street) because I could smell the marijuana and was on the brink of gagging. I know these kids need Jesus, and it is heartbreaking to think about a dim future for children who are loved by God full of grace. It reminds me of a verse in Philippians that begins much like this paragraph:
For as I have told you often before and now say again with great tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, the god is their stomach, their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.
It seems to me that the need is to help them look up. In the U.S., we are all taught that dreams are possible. That whatever the obstacle, we can attain it as long as we put our mind to it. Here, they do not have the same luxury of thinking further than the present. How could we teach them to stop looking at what everyone else is doing, and start dreaming? Taking that a step further, to set their eyes on Christ, who by the power that enables him, will put all things under his control and transform us!
Chau.
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