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.

:)

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.



Day 4 in Chos

To finally wrap up the series on our trip to Chos Malal, here's a final post on Day 4.

[Day 1, 2, 3]

Since I deleted the only pictures I took our last day from my cell phone (it was just lunch, a talk and travel really), I'll just have to tell you what a great last day it was.

We found Nutella in a local supermarket. Need I say more? It was the sign of a good day. It doesn't take much to make us happy. I think we bought their whole supply. We realize the Hand of God when we see it, you know? We had Nutella on bread for breakfast. And for lunch. And for about the entire week thereafter. We even left a jar for the native missionaries there - they had never tried it before and liked it! Why we can't find it in our city of 300,000 - but in a random small town six hours from anywhere close to Chile... well, that will remain a mystery. Either way, God is good.

Highlight #2 was planning a return trip to this area that we loved so much.

Day 4 We sat down over a bowl of pasta with missionaries and church planters Damian and Marta and organized an evangelistic event for May. They need help, we want to help, so let's do it, was the consensus. They pulled out their hand-drawn map of the area with the mountain families they still have yet to reach, we talked about the needs of the area, and together we wrote up a plan for the weekend. So far we have volleyball, soccer, preaching for kids and adults, the JESUS film, and a used clothes fair on the books. All of this in a little village an hour's drive outside of town, many kilometers out a gravel road, very near where the conference was held. But you'll have to wait til May to see how it went. Praying God brings all the details together.

Damian, Tony, and Daniel

Lately I feel I've been posting too many pictures of poverty, wondering if people get bored with seeing it, post after post. I guess it can be depressing, although - strangely - I don't find it to be. It just is. It's a lot of what we do and why we are here. But, just in case you're tired of seeing pictures of rough neighborhoods and the slums, here are some nice pictures to wrap up our long weekend in Chos Malal, northern Neuquén Province, Patagonia, Argentina. Enjoy.

Day 2: Somewhere, Patagonia

"There are no safe paths in this part of the world.
Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now,

and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go." 
-The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

After meeting up with everyone who was attending the conference, we left Chos Malal in caravan for the place where the conference actually was - 70 more kilometers up in the mountains. 20 on paved roads...

...then 50km more on gravel.

We turned off the paved road onto the gravel, kicking up a trail of dirt.

We continued across the valley...

and when we lost the caravan , we just followed the trail of dust.

  crossing rickety bridges...

(respecting the plethora of traffic signs and lights and lines painted down the middle of the road, of course - that's a joke.)

We turned at the sanitation post in downtown Cancha Huinganco...

my kind of downtown :) lol

more downtown

saw some parakeets...

 (they are very noisy and social and make all sorts of racket flying around in their little noisy social groups)

stopped to rest at the church...

then continued on down a hill towards the river...

and a into grove of poplars to a rural school.

A little place not on the map, but which the locals call Cajon de Curileuvu. That's Mapuche for something. One day I will know what.

No Internet. No cell phone signal. No TV. No land line. Remote is the perfect word. People communicate by radio if they need a doctor, the police, or the fire department. Or they get on their horse and ride.

Fortunately we did have electricity, running water, flushing toilets, and showers where we stayed. I kept thinking the entire weekend of the Christian conferences back in the States, with their comfy climate-controlled hotels, fun engaging activities, high tech light and sound and video technology, and readily available food and convenience stores to meet your every need. Ah, now that's a retreat!, I thought. This was not like that. If you didn't bring it in, you didn't have it. Even if you did bring it in, it might still be useless. It was about being with those who are doing hard work in hard places, seeking God together, worshipping, learning from His Word, and being reminded that the gospel is about sacrifice, not comfort. I was reminded of that the entire time, then we all were when we lost electricity right at dusk. The testimonies and preaching just kept going, though, even though we could barely see each other. (It did come back on a few hours later.)



The sign says: "Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them." ~Psalm 126:6

Chos Malal

We just came back from a Pastors/Leaders/Missionaries Conference in the little town of Chos Malal, population 11,000. It was great, and hard, all at the same time. The four-day trip was chocked full of so many different things that I'll have to post about it in several different enstallments.

Day 1 was taken up in travel: six hours across the desert and up along the Andean foothills. The rest of the day was taken up in delays: a flat tire, a run-in with the police, some confusion over our paperwork, and almost getting the car impounded. Much prayer as we waited for Tony to emerge from the road-side check point - thirty minutes later he did. It all worked out in the end, and we traveled on.

Sweet geologic formations along the way. Patagonia is a geologist's dream.

A church in the middle of nowhere.

Approaching the Precordillera, or Andean foothills



arriving in Chos Malal



It was hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. So much for needing the winter jackets. I packed way wrong, and the kids sweltered in their winter pajamas in a room that was at least 85 degrees at 11pm. We are learning by our mistakes. To visit the Andes in the summer means taking clothing for all four seasons, because you just never know.

Driving in Patagonia is not like road-tripping in the States. There is no shoulder whatsoever. You have to pay attention at all times. People pass you going 80-100mph, trucks come at you doing the same, the wind can whip pretty hard, and in several places there is no nice white line marking the shoulder (which doesn't exist anyway), nor yellow line marking the middle of the road, and often no guard rails with nice little drop-offs. Makes for a relaxing, good time.

But we made it, there and back again, safe and sound. And the sunsets here, no matter where, never disappoint.


Sunset over Chos Malal



We returned refreshed spiritually, tired but content, and looking forward to being able to return to do evangelism there in May.

we're back

....from the middle of nowhere. It was amazing.

When I'm done playing catch up, I'll get a decent post, or two or three (pictures at the very least), up.