6.21.12

"I sought the Lord, and He heard me, And delivered me from all my fears...."

I sat in the hall with all the other patients and their drips. We line the wall in the ER. IV analgesics I could not understand the names of tapped into my right arm at the elbow; the worst rebound migraine in the history of migraines. One man in a neck brace on a stretcher, a boy in a wheelchair peeking out of the next room, a woman in labor sitting next to me; she had been there for hours, still waiting... Waiting, waiting, waiting. That's what we do here.

It is well past midnight, this first day of winter. I sit, the drugs beginning to work their magic and ease the pain, and put me to sleep in a sitting position. My eyes fling open, slower than usual, as I hear the commotion - a man being brought in on a stretcher. He collapsed outside, the men who drove him to the hospital unable to hold him up. Blood is streaming from his chest: a gunshot wound.

I think that because I am in hospital he will be saved.

He dies several minutes later. I watch as the doctor comes out, his body language says everything. He points to his chest, He received a shot HERE. He shakes his head, takes off his glasses. We did everything we could...

It was like a horrible movie, the next scene predictable. The son buries his head in his hands and starts to sob, "My father, my father..."

The eyes of the LORD are upon the righteous,

and his ears are open unto their cry.

The face of the Lord is against those who do evil,

To cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.

Was he a bad man?, I think to myself. Are these the consequences of a life lived wrongly??

I wonder.

Sometimes I feel as desolate as things appear.

{...none of them that trust in him shall be desolate...}

Perhaps it is good that we are here, I try to console myself. Yes, very good that we are here, I tell myself again. I squint at the scene, breathe out, shake my head slow.

No, a voice says, Go home.

Why are you here? - the voice whispers. You could be next, you know... It's dangerous here. Don't you know that?

Fear, a constant companion, comes to visit again. Why can't fear just leave me alone?

 The angel of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him, And delivers them.

Death. Need. Loss. It is too much to bear some days, many days, most days. Nine months and I feel like I already need a big, long, stress-free furlough.

 

Many are the afflictions of the righteous.
The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears.

Today there is no gas in town. No gas at the gas stations. There's just no gas. Lines of cars are three blocks long. Tony says, I'll go after midnight tonight, maybe there won't be any lines then. He tells me of the strike that is supposed to last into next week, which probably means no trucks making deliveries. I say we should go to the store today and stock up just in case.

We are on our knees, praying for peace. The anxiety overwhelms, driving us down. Tony gets ready to go to the older boy's home, the opposition begins.

I need to pray, he says standing at the kitchen sink. I don't want to go. I can feel it.

Sometimes I get tired of these desparate prayers.

It's the first day of winter, June 21. My mom's 65th birthday. Sixty-five. Where has the time gone?

She buries her father. He died on Father's Day.

Death, like a Gypsy, comes to steal what I love.  Again.

Sometimes I feel grey. As grey as these winter skies. I cry. Cry until three in the morning and I just can't stop.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good;

Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!

Oh, fear the Lord, you His saints!

There is no want to those who fear Him.

I think of regret. Pain so deep, sorrow so great, I will never be the same again. I have an epiphany. And I'm mad it takes me forty years to come to it. I will never allow anyone to influence me again when I know what God is telling me to do. When I know what is right. But I don't do it. It's too late, it's too late. I can't go back.

Only ahead.

I think of this forgiveness that I have been given. This wonderful, unbelievable, undeserved forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. I know it now more than ever. Do any of us deserve it? 

I think of him, lying in the ICU, the ventilator pushing air into his lungs, the phone up to his ear. Is he under the wrath of God or under His wings? He can hear me, but he can't speak. I grope to speak words of Truth, of Love. Something. Lord, give me something - the right words to say.

You need to get ready. Are you ready? I love you.

At my words he begins to flail his arms wildly. Fiesty, strong, German stock. Whether in agreement or in anger I do not know - I will never know, not in this life. We have to hang up. They call the nurse. He dies five days later.

The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart;

and saves such as be of a contrite spirit.

This poor man cried out, and the Lord heard him,

And saved him out of all his troubles....

The Lord redeems the soul of his servants.

I groan within myself, waiting for this redemption.

~Scripture quoted from Psalm 34

my little friends

I'm so behind on this blog. I feel like we have so, so many things to post and write about, but just no time. So, so many pictures to share, but no time to upload them.

The other night we were visiting with fellow missionary friends and I was commenting on the fact that I have, it seems, no free time. I used to have free time. I know this because I used to read. I used to have time to read. I rarely read anymore, I just don't have time. It's been an adjustment for me, because I love to read. But all my free time now, once eaten up by a deliciously good book (or some other selfish pleasure), is eaten up by socializing. Or cleaning. I have never cleaned so much in my entire life. My kids are always filthy, and so is my house. I have never seen so much dirt in all my blessed life. I can't keep up. With the dirt. Or the people. We're too busy being with them to have time for much else. Argentines are very social people. And that is, in fact, how you reach people. You have to actually spend time with them.

(duh)

So here is a picture of my new little friends.

Marcela's kids. I love them.

Marcela came to church yesterday for the first time. I sat next to her and helped her find her way through the Bible as the pastor preached. She got teary-eyed and went forward for prayer at the end. Her two sweet daughters, Camila (9) and Sofia (2), came with her to church. They kept looking shyly at me all throughout the service. So, of course, I fed them cookies. Later Camila took off with the 6-12 year olds on a three-day camp retreat with the kids from church. Just like that. She is there now, learning about God and Jesus and the Bible.

Today we went up to the slums to visit Marcela and her family. As we were heading out at 6pm, I thought of how many times our plans had changed in just one day. The morning started with Tony doing our taxes. Then he was going to fix our van (it's broken - radiator and power steering leaks), and then head out an hour south to continue work on a new church plant bathroom. But that fell through - post-poned until tomorrow - so it was off to the slums. But, wait, Juan was going to come over for a Bible study at 5 - what to do? So we called Juan to reschedule. No problem, Juan would go with us to the slums instead. Okay. But when the time came to go, no one could get a hold of Juan. So on the way out, we took a major detour and stopped by Juan's house. He was there. We all piled in the church's pickup and headed out.

Not two months ago this would have driven me crazy. Annoyed me at the very least. I barely noticed today. This is life here. Make plans, but roll with it. You never know how a day will unfold. And after we came home and stripped our dirty clothes for much needed baths, leaving piles of desert sand on the bathroom floor, the kids seemed to think dinner at 9:30 at night was perfectly normal, as well. I don't hear much of a peep out of them anymore over it (well, except the high-maintenance one, we always hear a peep or two or a trillion from her). They had too much fun running through dry river gorges up in the desert mesa with their new little friends. Throwing rocks at tin cans, kicking a ball around, and avoiding scorpions. Oh yes, scorpions. (No pictures, Denise, I promised.). Marcela said they've found them in their bed and crawling up the kids' legs. But no worries, the sting is nothing, she assured me. Her kids have been stung - "no big deal"....

The Shower

We recently took a short trip to Bariloche, 6 hours southwest of here. I can't seem to get myself together to write anything coherent about it yet, so until I can find my mind (it's small, and sometimes wanders off by itself) - here is a picture of: The Shower.

I've showered in some interesting showers before, this one wasn't a shock or a stretch for me. But I can assure you it was for my kids. One refused to shower altogether, the other cried the whole torturous five minutes I dragged her in with me. Only one was a bit more open and was actually getting into my mini step-by-step lecture on the science behind showering in showers such as these. She did really well, and emerged clean and tear-free, feeling refreshed and happy. The others are still traumatized. They'll get over it someday.

My Mini, Step-by-Step Lecture on How to Shower in Showers Like These:

First, turn on the water so your little white shower tank fills with precious bathing water.
Then, plug the shower in. That's right, electricity in your shower.
Wait 30-40 minutes until the electricity heats your shower water to the desired temperature.
VERY IMPORTANT NEXT STEP: Unplug your shower. This will keep you from electricuting yourself.
Next, get in (with flip-flops, because water and gritty volcanic ash is a yucky mix to stand in in bare feet).
Manually open shower valve; get your hair and whole body wet.
Turn off valve so you can have water to rinse with.
Suds up, fast. It's nippy with that mountain wind whipping in through the cracks in the wall.
Turn water back on, rinsing hair and entire body.


If you do it right, 2-4 more people can take a shower with remaining water. We only bathed three of us with about 5 gallons of water, but that's because we're novice first-worlders who shamed ourselves by our lack of ability to rough it. We've been told 6 construction guys have bathed, one after another, in this very shower. We are obviously lame and not cut out for the mission field.