older boys' home pics

Tony helping the boys write their memory verses...

Some of the other boys helping, too...

They were really into it... (some of the boys can barely read and write so need a lot of help).

See our projector on the table?


Tony projects movies on the green wall in the background while Facundo works crowd control. I can't remember which one he showed this day, but this week he showed them Fireproof (dubbed over in Spanish). They LOVED it and cheered and clapped at the end asking, "Can you bring more movies like that?".

unexpected open doors, unplanned evangelism

Missions isn't all salt and tears. There are unexpected blessings for following Christ overseas. In our specific case, one of those for us here has been free sports for our offspring. We didn't know about this particular benefit when we sensed it was Patagonia that God had placed on our hearts. We were completely prepared for bare bones living - meaning, in part, nothing extra for the kids. For all I knew we'd be living high up in the mountains, far from civilization, my kids whittling toys out of sticks because there was nothing to do. That has not been the case. God surprisingly brought us to a city, and, even though I neither like cities nor city living, we have been really blessed by all it has to offer.

The province we live in in Argentina is unique in that it offers free sports for all kids. There are clubs all over town that offer swimming, basketball, gymnastics, volleyball, handball, racquetball, and many others I can't remember. All you have to do is sign up.

We are so thankful for these classes. It's a great way to get our homeschooled kids out of the house, around other kids, speaking Spanish, and run their energy off at the same time. It's a good stretch for them physically, culturally, socially, and linguistically.

But even though it's a great blessing, this is still the Third World. The gyms are built and subsidized by the city and province, but funds are limited. [EDITORIAL: Tony says because the corrupt politicians pocket all the money and don't give it to the programs that serve the public. I guess he would know. He's Argentinian.] They are often unable to buy new equipment because they are just not given any money to do so. The equipment is sparse and often in ill repair. But the teachers are great, and we are really impressed with them and all they do.

Because of the severe lack of funds, the coaches and parents have to raise the money on their own to buy any equipment they may need for the gym. Interesting, when we remember the fully stocked, shiny YMCA's back home.

Somehow Tony was nominated to be the money collector guy for all the funds this year. The coach's excuse was because "he was at every single practice". My incredibly supportive response when I found out was, "How did you get sucked into that? That's all we need, something else to do. Great."

But sometimes these unexpected things are really a blessing in disguise. Most of these kids are not Christians and have probably never heard the gospel. I know this because of all the interesting words the girls teach my girl in class. Words she's never heard before in her life. The boys actually seem a bit calmer. Or maybe my boy is just so spacey he's completely unaware of what they're saying. I don't think he cares much what they talk about, he's just there to play ball. And he still pretty much refuses to speak Spanish, too (I wonder where he got his stubbornness from....}. We don't worry much about negative influences with him. He's so head-strong we can hardly influence him, let alone someone who speaks a language he barely cares to understand. Hardly any worries there.

Anyway, so - big fundraising event this past month. Bake sale, lottery-type money-raising thingy, activities for the kidlings, snack - and a movie! When Tony asked if we could show one of our movies, they said yes. He made it clear it was a movie that talks about God yadda yadda, but they were okay with it and said sure that would be great.

(I wonder if that would happen in the States. Probably not...)

So, after their bake sale, lottery, fun activities, and snacks, all these kids sat down and watch The Gladys Aylward story. Completely unexpected open door. Completely unplanned evangelism. Completely awesome. And they raised all the funds they needed for the new equipment! Score and score.

kids

Some of the cuties we were with in the mountains, on the first day of our recent outreach...

Pablo, on the right, is my new boyfriend, only he doesn't know it yet. :)

mountain movie magic

At a recent outreach, we showed some movies.


It was a village of about 100 families; Day 1 of our return trip to Chos Malal.

At these events (well, most events we show movies at), the two and a half hour JESUS film is often times too long. The kids usually don't make it past a half an hour - any more and they will begin to wander off. The Torchlighters series work well in these situations, especially since we have many other activities going on and a program to follow. The movies are evangelistic, animated, and only 30 minutes in duration - very kid friendly. A nice fit after the kids (and watching adults) have sung, played, heard the Good News, and had a snack.


the garage, lent to us from a family in the village, converted into a makeshift movie theatre



setting up the projector





aren't they adorable?!?





notice our make shift projector stand: a rusty barrel, an old rack, and some planks 



Fun stuff. Hard work. Worth it.

mime gospel part I

I've had a bit of a rough week. The busyness and emotional strain of it has kept me from posting pictures of our truly amazing trip to the mountains.

Here are some starters: Jonathan and Keren, university students from church, and their amazing mime act of the gospel. The kids (and adults) ALWAYS love it.

Now, to see if I can upload the video of it...so amazing. Here's hoping it works.

:)

back from the mountains

We just got back from a whirlwind 3-Day Mission Trip to the mountains.

I have much to do this week, but once I get caught up, I have enough pictures and stories for about a month's worth of posts...!

beautiful

living here

Living here is like living on an emotional, daily, roller coaster. One minute we are flying high because we see God is so in this, the very next we are thrown down deep into a pit because of something that has happened. Third World missions, especially when your focus is the unreached poor, is really tough stuff. Believe me.

Most days we know why we are here, and we believe in what we are doing. We know that it is GOD who has called us here, not we ourselves.

But other days we wonder out loud, "Lord, Why did you bring us here?!". To think that we could be living the good life in America - man!

I mean, seriously, I miss my dryer. I miss my dishwasher. I miss my big, comfy house and tranquil life. I miss my culture. Yeah, isn't that weird? My culture. The one that doesn't expect me to explain myself because it already understands me. I miss my family. It hurts me when my kids ask, "When are we going to see Mom-mom again?", and all I can say is, "Well, God knows when we'll be able to go back and see her."

We miss snow. Tony misses the organization and safety in the US. Me, too. It is not easy for us to live here. It is a sacrifice in every way. In every way.

Tonight we were talking at the table, a late dinner, 9 o'clock or so.


Bam!

Did you hear that?

Yeah, I heard somethin'.

Sounded like a gunshot.

Nah.... I don't know. I think it was a firecracker.

Hm (head cocked, listening).

Bam!

There it is again!

Firecracker.

Yeah. Firecracker.

Well... that's good, then.

(conversation resumes)


It's hard not being able to talk to anyone here about things we find to be strange or difficult. Sharing our difficulties with our native friends, we run the risk of offending them or making them feel as if we are criticizing their home country. So we don't, because we aren't. We like it here in many ways; it's just difficult on a lot of fronts.

Gunshots, or even the possibility of gunshots, are not normal for us.

And shouldn't be.

In a perfect world.

But, at the end of the day, it's the small things that make it worth it - living here: the people we are reaching. The ones who have never heard before. Yes, that makes it worth it. I don't worry about the nuances of the future - will they get saved, will there be anyone to disciple them, is there a church in their location they can attend. I really don't worry about that sort of thing. God is faithful. This is His Business. The details are for Him to work out. Mostly, I'm just trying to get through today.

I find it hard enough to be faithful today.

I know God is able to not only save Camila, but He is also able to send help her way. Maybe we're it, maybe we're not. I do know He promises to give us the wisdom to know what to do if we ask.

He sends us the Holy Spirit at salvation to teach us all things. He promises to send her a Comforter, too. I often remember getting saved at my kitchen table in downtown Buenos Aires, all alone. I was lucky if I got to church a half a dozen times that first year. And yet, here I am. God has kept me.

He will keep the work of His hands.

I have no doubt about that.

So no, I'm not worried about Camila. God's got His eye on her. She is a sweet, sincere little girl that has a genuine hunger for God. I consider it a privilege and a pleasure to sit and read with her, explaining and helping her to understand God's Word. Even if her little brothers are climbing all over piles of scrap wood, pulling down their pants to pee as the urge dictates, who chase my own son with scraps of wood nailed into makeshift play swords.

I'm not worried at all. Mostly I stand in awe that we are here at all and God would chose to use us at all.

Lord, you are Good.

"not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." -2 Peter 3:9



Camila, and my favorite picture of all time

I think this is my all-time favorite picture taken in Patagonia. Ever.

"I want to read the Bible, but I can't understand it. I need someone to help me. Can you help me?" she said.

Camila is one of our little friends. She lives deep in the slums. She is nine years old. She lives in a wood slat house with a dirt floor. Her dad is a drug addict and former pai de santo. But she wants to read the Bible. She wants to learn about it, but doesn't know how to begin. So she asked Tony.

And you know you don't have to ask us twice.

:)

older boys' home

Tony took this picture last night on his visit to the children's home for older boys (13+) - a ministry he's started here recently.

(blurry on purpose, all the kids have cases in court)

Isn't that weird? A ministry he's started here.

But it's so easy to start ministries here. We have started several so far: a slums ministry, a movie ministry, a children's home ministry. It's really not that hard; so much easier than in the United States. You don't need a degree, seminary, or an FBI background check.

We have found that all you need is a desire to actually do something and the gumption to go ahead and just do it.

You don't have to be super spiritual or exceptionally talented. God uses ordinary people. Peter was a fisherman. The differentiating factor?  He was recognized to have been with Jesus.

Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus.

Acts 4:13

Not that I'm poo-pooing degrees, or seminary, or FBI checks. These are all good and helpful things. But they are not a requirement to do God's will or His work. God can't wait on possessors of these things in say poor, rural, mountainous Tibet. The Bible shows us time and again that Jesus doesn't need these things to use us. He used Peter and John, and Andrew his lowly fisherman brother, and many, many others - who were all just ordinary people.

Blue-collar Joes.

Tony and Facundo went last evening to the home together. Facundo is one of the youth from church who plays the drums.

We are enjoying working with the young adults from church. Some are not involved in any kind of outreach or ministry - they're just kind of there. Tony is working hard at encouraging them to get out there and we often invite them to various different things we have going on. It's so sweet to see their eagerness to do something for the Lord.

This was their second visit to the home. The boys were looking forward to their return, and asked them last time if and when they were coming back. Tony projected the John Bunyan Torchlighters movie onto the pale, green, smudged wall of the inside of the home. As usual, there was dead silence when the movie was over. The movies are powerful, and they have that effect on just about everyone - believers and non-believers alike.

Afterwards, they did a little reflection and discussion of the movie. They are slowly introducing the study of God's Word. The boys are very open and receptive and thankful for the notebooks Tony brought for each one. In them they write down their memory verses to study, questions, notes, and prayers. He is teaching them to pray, to think about eternal things, to open up about their lives, and pointing them to Hope, to the One who longs to rescue them from the pit. The church we attend also gave us eight small, pocket-sized Bibles for each one. After their visit of course they played a round of soccer. Because what's ministry and evangelism in South America without a game of soccer?

Truly, we can say, God is richly blessing us in all things. It is our one, main, sustaining grace, all this that we see the Lord doing. 

Some days we ourselves fall into a pit, despairing when we look at all the challenges and difficulty of our journey in the Way - but as Christian in The Pilgrim's Progress, we often find ourselves climbing the Hill Difficulty only to happen upon, midway to the top of the hill, a pleasant Arbour, made by the Lord of the Hill, for the refreshment of weary Travellers.

We continue to be so amazed at all the doors that have opened up for us here. Tony found this particular place walking home one day - back when we didn't have a car. He was walking down our dirt road and walked up along side an older man, also walking. And, of course, Tony can not not start talking to everyone he meets, so they struck up a conversation. Pedro loves to talk almost as much as Tony. Turns out Pedro worked for 20 years in homes for troubled youth. When Tony shared that that is something he would like to do as well, Pedro took Tony to this nearby home for troubled youth. Pedro now comes to our weekly Bible study, has from the first day we opened up our home. Pedro lives in a tiny, three-room house nearby. He has been a Christian his entire life, and we enjoy listening to his observations and the wealth of knowledge that only years of living and years of Bible reading can impart.



Pedro welding a wheelbarrow for us in his back yard



The Big 4-0!

^3-6 It is only when we obey God’s laws that we can be quite sure that we really know him. The man who claims to know God but does not obey his laws is not only a liar but lives in self-delusion. In practice, the more a man learns to obey God’s laws the more truly and fully does he express his love for him. Obedience is the test of whether we really live “in God” or not. The life of a man who professes to be living in God must bear the stamp of Christ. ~1 John 2:3-6 



Marcela's house





I recently became a member of the 40 Club. Officially Over the Hill. It should be easy from here on out, since it's all downhill from now on, right? I should rejoice that I'm still alive - and that I still fit into my jeans from High School (ha, don't hate). These are both miracles.

For my birthday weekend I wanted breakfast in bed, and to not wash a single dish or pick up a single toy. I'm really not that hard to please, really. I mean, really. How hard is that? You don't even have to spend money on me! I also wanted to go visit our friends in the slums, then visit our little friends in the children's home. Somewhere in between there my daughter and I tried to catch a meteor shower. We laid out under the stars in lawn chairs {in our winter jackets and scarves, boots, and gloves} well after midnight in search of shooting stars. It was partially cloudy, so we didn't see any of this spectacular meteor shower they had told us about. Tony came out for a bit and we searched the skies for the Southern Cross and the Three Mary's [aka Orion's Belt].

Good memories.

It was a birthday I will always remember. We spent most of it visiting: Saturday, the slums. Sunday, the children's home.

I don't like birthday parties. I just don't. Don't ask me why, I still haven't figured that out. I don't like going to them, I don't like throwing them, and I don't want one on my birthday. I prefer the quiet life, I guess - or to do something that is actually fun, instead of standing around small talking over cake. I'm not anti-social, just selectively social. B-day parties are not my gig... although I always get sucked into about a dozen a year or so.

So I managed to keep my birthday fairly secret, and off we went. I am often amazed how open people are to the gospel here. This weekend was no exception. When we arrived up in the slums, I sat in the car waiting for the okay to get out. We have a little thing we do: Tony pulls up, looks around, gets out, and says hi. He goes in, chats, and gets a feel for whether it is safe and whether we are welcome. As we pulled up Saturday, Cefe and his brother-in-law were just walking back to their shack. They were returning from buying beer. Tony talked with them for a bit, saw that they weren't drunk or on drugs at the moment, and then waved that it was okay to come in. We spilled out of the van, locked it, and went it.

It really is depressing how they live. It was chilly outside when we walked into their one room shack. The heat and claustrophobia hit me as I ducked in the place where the door should have been. It was so crowded with people and kids and animals that I couldn't even fully come inside. Tony said good thing I had a cold because it smelled like rotten food and animals. Little Sophia was sitting on the dirt floor in her filthy bare feet, her older brother Mishel was only in his underwear at the little table, Marcela and Cefe were there with her niece, her brother, and three or four of her kids, plus one nephew, several cats, and a dog. In a one-room shack. The wood stove was inches from the kids, blasting heat. Marcela says it get very cold at night when the stove burns out. I'm sure - it's getting down into the 30s right now at night. Brrrr...

Since I could barely stand in there, I went outside to watch the kids. Marcela's kids' bare feet are calloused over and they miraculously don't get cut up, but my kids, even with shoes, always seem to get hurt somehow. Marcela followed me out and we stood in her small, dirt front yard, just a patch of desert sand littered with trash and fruit peels and scrap metal and wood with nails sticking out of it. We talked. I really like Marcela, she is very friendly, warm,  and open with me. She began telling me how she can no longer take her brother and niece living with them, her husband's drug addiction, the kids home all day with her, or this emptiness in her heart. I told her it was normal to want to have some privacy, all families should have their own space. I shared how Tony and I used to have problems, big problems, in our marriage. She looked at me in disbelief with that, "Oh, not you" look. Oh, yes, me. I have a quite colorful past. There's a lot I don't tell people. Been there, done that. When she talks to Tony she thinks, "How does he do it? How is he okay all the time? Where does this peace come from that he seems to have?".

It's only God. That's all. That's the only difference.

I was able to share with her that that peace we have comes only from Jesus. We have just as many problems as they do, just different ones perhaps. I told her my story, I told her Tony's story. It was a blessed moment. A holy moment. God was there with us in the slums. Right there with us. She just looked at me. Like she understood. Like she wants that, too.

We talked for a while. She said she doesn't find purpose in life, no reason to get out of bed in the morning, she thinks of suicide often. No, don't do it, I said. Think of your kids. If Cefe has a drug problem, who would take care of them if she killed herself? I reminded her that Tony is more than willing to come up and help them finish raising the walls of their new house. Winter is coming. It's already very cold at night. Once the house is up, she could move into it with her own family, leaving the shack to her relatives. Think of how nice that would be! She's too depressed though it seems to find the motivation to raise the walls herself. I understand that. I probably would be too if I were her, living in that place, with no Hope. We left, telling her we are praying for her and will see her soon.

The next day, my birthday, we headed down to the children's home.




cakes!

 I don't like cake that much and I never want cake for my birthday, I even get somewhat annoyed if anyone wastes money on one I don't want to eat anyway (I know, such a party pooper. Tony says 'no fun'.). So I thought if we took my cake, the one I didn't want anyway but they always seem to buy no matter what, down to the kids' home, it would make the useless cake okay. Kids like cake. Our kids like cake. I like the children's home, but don't like cake. Problem solved.

We met some of the youth at church (they brought more cake), all piled into our van, and headed downtown. Played soccer, ate cake, talked to and hugged the kids. The kids all sang happy birthday to me. To me? I brought my cake for them, not for me. It was the sweetest. What a birthday present, these kids singing to me... it's so sad to think that their parents don't want them, or can't take care of them, or abused them. One of the girls ended up crying in a corner by herself. When we asked her what was wrong, she said she feels invisible. No one comes to visit her, no one loves her, she's so sad. It made me cry, too. My daughter came over and asked what was wrong. They know each other outside of the home - they both go to the same gym class (sports are free here in the city - one of God's many blessings). I explained to my daughter why her friend was crying, that she doesn't have a mom or dad that love her or take care of her. She looked at me like she didn't even understand that concept - no mom or dad, no love?? So, honey, Why don't you hug her and tell her you love her and you are her friend?

So she did. And we all cried some more.

Even though our time was up and we were supposed to leave, we continued talking to her, reminding her of God's promise, "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up." Psalm 27:10.

We shared the good news of God's love for her, and explained that although He does love her, God is gentleman. He wants to make her happy and to give her everything, but He will wait until she is ready, until she accepts what He wants to give her. We talked some more, and then she said she was ready. Keren prayed, she repeated. It was hard for her to get the words out, but she did it.


"...we are not to save souls, but to disciple them. Salvation and sanctification are the work of God’s sovereign grace" ~ Oswald Chambers

sunset on the way home from the children's home

 Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did. -1 John 2:6 NIV

A blessed birthday weekend. In more ways than one.



Tony and I have talked a lot lately about how long we will be here. We have been going through a rough time. He always says don't worry, God will provide. I pray he is right, I pray for faith like his. We have talked about the possibility of having to return to the States because we can't afford to be here. We have accepted that as a possibility, but we hope it doesn't happen anytime soon. We are too busy. We are just getting started.

This week he went for the first time to a home for juvenile boys and showed the William Tyndale Torchlighters movie. {Sorry, they don't let you take pictures}. It was amazing and he was very well received. He'll be going back every other Tuesday night. With the gospel and Bible studies and love and hugs and more movies. To visit these kids that nobody wants in a place where no one is going right now. In talking to the director we have discovered that the kids are pretty bitter about the church. They say churches come once or twice to visit them and never come back. One boy's grandfather is a pastor. But, for whatever reason, they have left their grandson in a home for boys. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you say you are. It is what you do.


If you haven't seen the William Tyndale flick (it's only 30 minutes long) WATCH THE FULL MOVIE HERE! You won't regret it.


Some quotes from the movie I like...

"The Word of God is a light unto our path. It is for all the people to understand, and not for the church only.

I can not see how we can take it upon ourselves to withhold something that God has so freely

and intentionally given to us all?

By God's grace, I am as much a servant of the church, as the church serves God."

~ William Tyndale

If you need a good laugh...

... watch this. We laughed until we cried.



A song by parents to their daughter as she gets ready to leave for college after growing up in Haiti as an MK [from the Livesays ].

kids walking down street

It's normal to see kids walking down the street all by themselves here. It's a lot like life was back in the 70s and 80s in the States. Parents are much more relaxed with their kids here than we are, certainly than we are used to seeing. The youngest in this group was maybe 5 or 6. One of my daughter's friends, who is 8 years old, rides the bus by herself back and forth every day to her sports activities after school. No one seems to watch their kids very much here. We do. So that puts us in the slightly neurotic, over-protective crowd. Oh well. We don't do sleepovers either. Which makes us... something. Not sure what. But we feel it. Today we were driving out of our neighborhood and there was a little kid, just out of diapers, out in the street by the curb trying to ride his tricycle. This particular road is very well traveled with constant traffic. Grandpa was standing in the doorway just watching, none too concerned for the little boy's safety. We cringe and shake our heads in unbelief. God really protects a lot of these kids. Thank God for that.

Life is so different here.

busyness, drunkeness, and other general weirdness

Life is busy here. And sometimes a whole lot of weird. I feel like my head's going to explode trying to process it all sometimes.

Good Friday, Tony spent all day in the slums while I took the kids on a nature walk - our first "official" nature walk in Patagonia - complete with list of things to look for. Since I had spent the entire week with visions of public school dancing in my head, I figured it was time to get out before somebody {Mommy} lost it.

Tony came home from a draining day, hoping to rest and eat something before we quickly headed out again to a meeting then a movie showing, only to get a call from the slums about an altercation with a drunk. Someone (we know) had shown up to "help" one of the families rebuild, but he showed up so drunk he could barely talk. He claims he's a Christian, he was insisting he was there to help, proceeded to walk around the site "praying" in a loud voice, continuing to insist he was there to help and to "do the Lord's work". All he succeeded in doing was making the families really, really mad. One of the dads called Tony asking him to come back and remove the guy before he killed him. We didn't put it past him, so back Tony went. One incident like that, someone showing up wearing the name "Christian" but acting really not, could completely ruin everything we've been trying to build for months.



drunk guy {in the red hat} - sometimes he's sober, like here


That's another new thing for us... flagrantly alcoholic church-goers. Slaves to alcohol who have no self control, but claim to know and love Jesus while getting rip-roaring drunk, all the while not seeming to think this is anything to really be alarmed about. The next day after a binge, they are "doing well, all is well, I'm well, God is good, and Praise the Lord!". It's kinda weird, definately new. At least people in the States who go to church and claim to know Christ but who are really raging drunks know better than to shout it from the mountaintops, at least in my experience. A certain level of shame is a good thing - it means you might have a clue that something is not. quite. right.

We have not-so-infrequent run-ins with inebriated people. It's the nature of the beast. I'm nobody's judge, but I am certainly learning to not answer my cell phone depending on who it is - and definately not after midnight {always bad news}, because then I can never get off the phone. Drunk people just go on and on and on in usually beligerent drunken stupors. There's no reasoning with them. I have better things to do with my time than to talk to someone who isn't listening anyway. Tony's really good with drunks, though. He keeps his calm and is able to take control of the situation; I just get annoyed and kick myself for answering the phone, vowing not to next time I see the number. The last time Pedro called I just told him the truth - You are a slave to alcohol and you need Jesus to set you free. He's the only One who can help you. I must have said goodbye and told him Tony would call him at least ten times. All he wanted to do was ask me how I was doing over and over again and put me on the phone with his grandmother (sweet lady that she is). Six months ago that would have been really awkward. I still think it's weird. But now, it's just kinda normal.

Pedro, Tony, Raul, and Alberto [Pedro was let go for drinking on the job, so returned to his little town up north. He still calls us.]

Fast forward Easter morning. As I was in the bathroom getting ready for church, I heard a gunshot. I heard Tony from the other room, "Did you just hear that?" Uh, yeah. Sure did. The weird thing is, everyone here says we live in a "nice" neighborhood. That wasn't my impression when we first arrived here. But, all things being relative, it is a "nice" neighborhood. For here. A nice neighborhood with gunshots. Yeah... 

Gunshots were just never on my radar, but hey, I guess they are now.

Easter afternoon we spent at the children's home.

But let me preface this with a little rant first- may I? Just humor me.

PARENTS: Don't leave your kids with anybody. Let me repeat myself... DON'T LEAVE YOUR CHILDREN WITH ANYONE. If you heard some of these stories we hear, if you knew... REALLY KNEW... that 90% of sexual abuse cases are perpetrated by someone who knows the victim... you wouldn't ever leave your kids with anyone. Family, friends, your trusted church friends. An.y.one.

Okay, I'm done. Ignore me if you want. It's just some statistics with a suggestion. I'm sure there are people in the world we can trust, surely.

So, I was finally able to go to the Children's Home {where all the kids have a story like above}, now that visitations are up and running again after summer break. We had a great time with the kids - we played Duck, Duck, Goose; Red Light, Green Light; and Freeze Tag - Argentinian versions, of course. Some of the young adults from church shared the Resurrection story as we sat around an outside table talking with the kids. I was amazed that most of the kids had never even heard of the Resurrection before. They thought Easter was about eggs. I took my daughter with me on our visit; she loved it and asks me all the time when we are going back.

my friend Keren with one of the sweeties from the children's home

There's more that's been going on, some that makes me nervous. Like Tony beginning a new ministry in another home for older kids... 13 and up. Kids aging out of the other home with nowhere to go. No one visiting them. No one sharing love and the gospel with them. I asked Tony if he really thinks this is a good idea. I mean, people get knifed in homes for older kids; they are bigger and they have bigger problems. Kids are extremely street smart here, more than most adults I know. A guy that used to work in one of these homes recently showed Tony his scars. So, really, Tony... don't you think maybe we should just forget this one? He doesn't think so.

And there are other things that are happening that are weird, well, more like extremely disturbing. Things that are just unbloggable. Things that remind me why I don't like having neighbors, and why I don't trust anyone. Things that make me shudder and remember that this is a yucky, fallen world. Things that remind me that yes, indeed, this is a battle. A WAR (Ephesians 6). Things that remind me of the very reason we are here. Things that, once you begin to fight them, wake up the someone who doesn't want to lose any ground. Not an inch.

I've been reminded, uncomfortably, this Resurrection week of the Truth in 1 Peter 5:8...

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion,

seeking whom he may devour."

Feelin' it. Hoping next week is better.

living the dream

Living the Dream Part I

Saturday night my boyz showed the JESUS film and a few Torchlighters movies in the rough neighborhood next door (this one). I am so proud of them. We're actually doing what we set out to do. God has really brought it to pass. I feel like Francis Chan who said, upon leaving the States to pursue missions in the third world, "Living the dream!".

Setting up. The screen hung on a wire between two posts of a soccer goal.

 Tony with some of the neighborhood kids

 The boy in the camoflage shirt's dad is in prison for double homicide. It's that kind of neighborhood.

 watching a Torchlighters movie

the JESUS film

Some of the kids scoffed at the movies to be shown, saying they had better movies at home. Action movies, horror movies. Some threatened to go home and watch their movies which were "better". They were riveted, of course, watching the Torchlighters series. Everybody always is. They later didn't want to leave and asked when we were coming back to show more movies.

Living the Dream Part II

In other somewhat selfish news, I finally started zampoÑa [sahm-pohn-nyah] lessons. [My computer is being weird about ALT commands - they're not working for me here. The least of my problems.]. I finally made it to the weekly practice of a group of Christian guys that play Andean music. It was heaven. It was even more wonderful because my kids didn't come with me. Translation: it was relaxing. I almost felt young again: childless, able to finish adult conversations, glorious. If God is merciful, maybe I'll even learn to play.

Miguel teaching me how to play the zampoÑa

Living the Dream: The Flip Side

But, life isn't all rosey here. Not at all. There is another side (as another soldier on the forefront has noted) - "the inevitable spiritual attack that meets the coming of the Kingdom". It is ever present. We have had bad dreams, nightmares, all of us, since we've been here, often. Impatience, tension, pressures, trials, misunderstandings, criticism, fightings, tears.

But there is grace, the same grace that we all have access to through Christ. The same grace that upholds us who hope and believe in Him. Being here, fighting dirt, has brought all our dirt to the surface like nothing else. Missions is messy. Daily we come face to face with our failings, our weakness, our filth. It's ugly. The only thing that separates us from those we are trying to reach is forgiveness, nothing else. Because of Christ, we are forgiven. Because of the forgiveness he has extended to us, we are able to extend forgiveness, be forgiven. So we forgive, we kiss and make up and hug and talk, and we move on, praying we get it someday. Sometimes limping, sometimes swiftly and with strength, daily reminded that we are not qualified for this. For any of this.

Which is exactly why we are qualified for this.