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.

what i've learned so far...

downtown Los Menucos, aka Curi Leuvú


We've only been here eight months. We are by no means experts. On anything. We only know our own experience, what we are living. What I will tell you is that we've learned a few things since we've been here in Argentina, on the mission field.

There is nothing like missions to bring it all to the surface. I am amazed at the junk that God is revealing in us. Ew.

God has sifted and shaken and pruned and cut, cut, cut, and opened eyes and brought conviction and has made us see things I know would have taken years, not months, back home. I want to say I am thankful, because that would be the correct "Christian" response. I guess I am.

Yes.

I am.

But it's been ugly. Sin likes to hide. It likes the dark. Kicks and screams when dragged into the light.

That's pleasant for no one.

There is nothing like missions to bring what is hidden and dark to the light.

There is nothing like missions to bring you to your knees and make you cry like a baby.

There is nothing like missions to show you that YOU are the worst sinner in need of salvation, God help your soul.

There is nothing like it.

There is nothing like living on the edge, and still feeling like you take up too much space.

There is nothing like leaving it all for Christ and feeling like most people don't think you are sacrificing all that much, and the rest seem to have forgotten you.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing, so hard as simply trying to do what is right, and being criticized or misunderstood for it. {The Christian Condition, right?}

There is nothing like doing what is right, and not getting the same thing in return. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year?

There is nothing like feeling like the very people that should love and support you, don't. Won't.

There is nothing like sitting at the computer at one in the morning, pouring your heart out to cyberspace, because that's all there is.

There is nothing like missions to teach you, really teach you, all about grace. Not the grace thrown around in Christian circles - but REAL grace.

grace noun \ˈgrās\

unmerited divine assistance given humans, approval, favor, mercy, pardon, a special favor, privilege, clemency, a temporary exemption, reprieve... {ah, reprieve}

~ Merriam-Webster

Oh, if people only knew!, I sometimes think to myself. 

Really, there is nothing like missions. There is nothing like being in a foreign country, having left all you know and love and that is familiar, to do what is good and right where no one particularly makes one iota of a big deal about all your "sacrifice".  The consensus seems to be, "Yeah, whatever spoiled, first-world people. You're really suffering living here. WE live here, WE know suffering. You can go back to your first-world country, WE live here. WE know."

Really, there is NOTHING like having only the Lord, and no. one. else.

You know what I've learned since being here?

Missions means nothing.

Following the Lord means SOMEthing.

We are not called to follow a cause. We are called to follow a Person.

Truth. Love. That's all that matters.

Do that and you fulfill the Law.

It's official!

the Mission Mobile with a friend

After seven months and at. least. 50 appointments and paperwork errands, plus untold numbers of phone calls to find out what on earth is taking so long - the Mission Mobile is finally registered!

She used to be American, but she decided to give up her American citizenship and become a nationalized Argentine automotor. It was hard - leaving her home country, being knocked around in a container on the open ocean for months, then driven over thousands of kilometers of rough terrain until her screws literally began to come loose.

working hard

she doesn't forget to help her neighbor in need,
even if it's 1am in the middle of nowhere

Sometimes she feels depressed, longing for the smooth roads of home - but, alas, she's given her body for Christ. Missions is for life for her. She knows she will never return to her homeland. But she really likes the attention she gets here in her new country. People stare at her when she strolls down the street, a foreigner they can tell, a real beauty. She is even slightly flattered when complete strangers pull up to her, roll down their window, and ask if she's for sale. She knows she's special here. When people climb in, they ooh and ahh, their eyes widening as they gaze up, down, and all around her luxurious interior. Back home she was a nobody, nothing special. Here she's a real gem, and they let her know it.



she visits the less fortunate, but sometimes feels like she doesn't fit in -
she thinks they view her as a snob, a rich girl. it's not true.



Her owners? Oh, they are now enjoying a glass of wine and talking of taking her on vacation. She deserves it. She works hard and they know hers is a sacrificial life, so they treat her really nice, like a queen. She gets regular sponge baths, manicures and pedicures, and the full interior treatment, complete with special products and lotions - something she never got back home. She knows here in her new home she will not likely be viewed as less valuable to society as she ages, and her owners know it, too. They treat her as she deserves, and even pray for her health and safety, almost daily.

sometimes she gets to see some really pretty places

Her owners are just glad - celebrating, really - that they no longer have to fear being pulled over by the police, having her {perfectly legal} temp papers questioned, along with her honor; threats of having her taken from them and detained or impounded; or insults of bribery money thrown their way for her. She is not for sale, and no, she can't be bought. How degrading!

 
She knows where she stands now. She knows her status. She's a legal resident now, with all the rights. Finally validated, finally accepted, a nationalized citizen.


ching! ching!



mime gospel part II

The nine-second test video never uploaded here for me. Welcome to my life. So... sorry. No amazing five-minute mime gospel video. You'll just have to believe me, it and they were amazing.

A couple of these kids accepted Christ. :)

The first day's event of our three days in the mountains was well-received. Now the native missionaries can go back in and continue working with the people. We are very pleased with how it went!

"Let all the nations be gather together, and let the people be assembled... let them hear, and say, It is truth." - Isaiah 43:9

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.

:)

new header

I love the picture.

My photoediting skillz...

Meh.

I think I like the first one. Opinions?

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...!

Is it all we thought it would be?

My blog friend, Annie, submitted a comment recently and asked several questions, 

".... Is it like you imagined? Do you find joy often? Do you feel like you are doing what you thought you'd be doing? I am so curious as I often imagine living the life of a missionary."

I thought I would just answer these questions here, as maybe there are others who wonder this, too. These are certainly questions we ask ourselves often.

Is it like you imagined?

Yes.

And no.

Yes, overseas missions is exactly as I imagined. Or should I say, as I've read it to be in all those missionary biographies. We've done several overseas short term mission trips before, but living it long term is completely different. Short term, you know you are going home. Long term, you know you're not. At least, not for a while. It changes everything when the going gets tough because there are no quick fixes, few comforts, little respite. It is what I imagined in that it is : Hard. Crazy. Unpredictable. Messy. Scary. Dirty. Uncertain. Busy. Challenging. A lot of work. Rewarding. Not for everybody. A calling. A sacrifice.

But worth it. Every time we have stepped out into the unknown, sometimes right off a cliff, we have found Jesus to be there, waiting for us, his arms full of grace.

And no, it's not what I imagined: It is not exotic. It is only sometimes exciting. Fascinating, yes. Fun and super cool at times, sure. An adventure, most definitely. But mostly it's hard, frustrating, lonely, annoying. It's upsetting when people misunderstand you when you're just trying to do good and follow Jesus. Upsetting when you are just being yourself and truly have sincere intentions, but the cultural filter and lens others see you through sometimes says something you are not saying, nor doing. It is an ever-present downer to see so much poverty and suffering.

Tony and I are here in obedience. We don't love living here like perhaps some missionaries love where they are living. I envy missionaries that can say that that is true for them, I really do. I wish those were my feelings, it would make things easier. I pray for that kind of love and joy. For us, it comes in smaller windows. But that's okay.

God calls different people in different ways. I am called to two things that I know of: faith and obedience. Right now that means having the faith to obey to live here and do this. Sometimes emotions follow, sometimes they don't. I try not to follow emotions or feelings because I have found them to be fickle and unreliable, often getting me into trouble. God's Word, on the other hand, I can rely on.

Do you find joy often?

I had a hard time answering this one. So I asked Tony. He had a hard time answering it, too.

"Sometimes" I guess would be our answer. There has been joy in the journey for sure, but I don't know that that is always the case.

Did Richard Wurmbrand always find joy in prison? He after all was an obedient, faith-filled Christian.

Did William Tyndale find joy living on the run in Germany? He was doing God's work.

I wonder how Martin Luther felt nailing his thesis to the church doors. Joy? Fear?

Did Paul always find joy in persecution? I can't imagine he felt great when he was shipwrecked, cold, hungry, beaten, and in chains. But He was doing what God asked of him. And that was enough for him.

Is there joy all day, every day, as a Christian? As a missionary?

There are too many hardships in missions - in following Christ period - to have joy ALL the time, at least for us, here. What we find is deep satisfaction that we are reaching others in need. That's what we feel most often: satisfaction. Joy is an overwhelming happy feeling that can elude us in the face of all we see and do here. Yes, I find joy in my position in Christ. But frequent difficulties, stress, and trials can snatch it away pretty quickly.

Like when I was standing on the kitchen counter spraying Raid at the spider that had made its home way up in the corner, watching it twitch and fall to its much deserved death... I was not feeling joy as I hyperventilated many prays that it wouldn't be a black widow. (It wasn't.) But that run-in with, even if it was imagined danger, was kind of a killjoy for me. Every time my kids get sick I think it's Hepatitis, or Scarlet Fever, or a strange disease they picked up in the slums. Yeah, I'm a worrywart, but I never thought these things back home.  

Neither one of us loves it here. But we like it, and we enjoy doing missions; we find joy in each other, in our kids, in Jesus, in obeying his commands. We are satisfied sitting in a dirt house sharing the gospel. We are content sitting with kids in children's homes and talking to them, hugging them, teaching them the Bible.

The other day when I was at the children's home, sitting at the table, listening to the lesson and the gospel being shared, we were asking the kids about their siblings. One little boy, about 8 or 9, said yeah I have some. He pointed up and then drew his finger across his throat. Yeah, I have some: they're dead. They're up there *pointing up with his finger*.

It's hard to hold onto the joy when things like that happen. That kind of stuff leaves me feeling sad, and a far cry from joyous. Joy would be an inappropriate feeling at a moment like that.


Do you feel like you are doing what you thought you'd be doing?

Yes. Absolutely. We are doing almost EVERYTHING that we set out to do. We are evangelizing, working with the poor, reaching the unreached.

This is, I think, our one greatest sustaining joy: that we are doing exactly what we thought we'd be doing. And so much more. A lot of the stuff I don't even have time to post here on the blog. Going on mission trips, organizing mission trips, evangelizing at events (some put on by others, some put on by us), sharing the gospel one-on-one, helping native missionaries, visiting orphans, discipling youth, starting ministries, hosting Bible studies, working with the native church, building houses, doing church construction, and so much more - yes, we are definitely doing what we thought we'd be doing. The only thing we are waiting on is an open door to work with the Mapuche. God will open that door if and when He chooses. After the little we've learned about their culture since being here, I don't doubt that it would be our hardest field yet.

But there are things that have happened here along our mission journey that we were never prepared for, things we never expected we would be doing or even thought of doing.

Following Christ, really following him with our lives, has ruined us for so many things.

I confess, it has ruined us to mere Churchianity forever. Sometimes we wonder if it has ruined us for organized church, as well. We honestly prefer at this point to be out evangelizing or visiting or helping those in need, than sitting in church on a Sunday morning. It fills us so much more to be out there.

Missions has ruined us for the mediocre Christian life. I don't think we could ever go back. We may return to the States some day, but I don't think we could ever go back to some of the pointless things we used to do. Sitting around and talking about God is boring to us when we're not also doing something for Him. We're so done with that. I'd rather not call myself a Christian at all, let alone walk around calling myself a missionary, if I'm not doing anything that makes it clear that I am. What good is my faith if it is without works? Can it save me?

When you see so much poverty, so much abuse, so much spiritual and physical need, when you read the Bible and the words of Jesus and examine what it is that we are we are doing in the church - it just kind of ruins you for all the fluff. I think that's a good thing.

So, yes, Annie, thanks for asking. It is pretty much is all we thought it would be. And then some.

funky medicines for back pain, Argentina style

There are some funky medicines here. Every country has their own. Argentina has some pretty funky ones.

Today I threw out my back - leaning over my son's chair helping him with a math problem. Imagine that - how lame. I'm standing there, leaning over a chair - in the standing position, mind you - talking fractions and common denominators [envy me now] and bam! Ow.

How utterly lame of my body to do that to me. I've never been the same since pregnancy. Really, I haven't. I mean, pulling my back out in the standing position is what happens to old people. How utterly dumb.

So Tony came home with these azufre things to rescue me from my pain:

So I do my thankful wifey thing and say, "Oh, honey - thank you! Go ahead. Roll the strange yellow bars of sulfur chalk over my back. Maybe it'll work!" (Note: trying to be positive.)

It didn't. 


my BIL demonstrating - roll on, roll off

 

Now, maybe it works for other people of the Argentinian persuasion, but my back still hurts. And the dumb things didn't crack and split in half in some remarkable "crack! you're cured!" moment, like they're supposed to.

It's been 14 years since I first heard about this amazing native treatment for neck or back pain, and I STILL have yet to receive a good, detailed, lucid, and scientifically verifiable explanation as to how this works. No one seems to really know. The most common explanation is that, "it takes the air out of your muscles."

Um, okay. That helps. Thanks.

Anybody care to enlighten me?

Bueller? Bueller?


In the meantime, I guess it's back to things I know: Ibuprofen. Bed rest.

Taking other over-the-counter meds here I have NO idea what they are, is also status quo. Googling doesn't help all that much with that either. I still don't know what I'm putting into my person most of the time. I see the irony here. God has a sense of humor. He does. I'm a spazz, I hate meds, I have call-911 reactions to a lot of them, and here I am in a foreign country with no idea what on earth I am taking, but I'm forced to take it anyway because pain sucks. Haha. Funny, God, funny.

Fortunately I'm still alive. God is good, after all. Thank you, Jesus.

So for now: Telling my kids to hang up the laundry, and absolutely loving the husband making dinner and serving it to me rocks. Milking the being waited on thing.

Yeah, back pain's good for something!

:)

packing

We are getting ready for our third mission trip to the mountains - and 3 day evangelistic event in a few remote mountain villages in the northeastern corner Patagonia.

This is a sample of some of the things on our packing list:

projector
movies
portable DVD player
all necessary cables and battery rechargers
220v-120V converters
tent
sleeping bags
extra blankets
pillows with dark pillowcases (so I don't notice how dirty they get)
warm, dark colored clothes (same reason as above)
boots
winter jackets
gloves and hats
baby wipes (there's no shower where we are staying)
long-life milk in a box
instant coffee and tea
box of snacks
camera
chocolate

UPDATE: portable shower - Tony just called to tell me he bought one [it looks exactly like this. fill it with water, plug in to heat. very important next step: UNPLUG].

We're so lame. But, it was only 89 pesos (20 bucks!). We're only buying it for the Boy (...that's what we're telling ourselves. He gets his Fruit of the Loomers in a bunch if he can't shower before bed. He's a strange boy, I hear...). But I'm sure we'll all be fighting over it. I'm going to be laughing when all the young'uns quickly forget their proclamations of, "But, we're MISSIONARIES!" and meekly ask if they can use our shower. LOL yeah, I'm getting pictures of that. Well, not action pictures, that is...

:)

the not Mother's Day post

{written Mother's Day... finally finishing up and adding pics four days later...}

I am sitting in bed blogging on my laptop. What a treat - Wifi!

My boy found a random open Wifi signal here in the 'hood. It beats sitting hunched over at the regular computer. We don't have Wifi here at our house, I don't know why. Life is just more complicated here. So much so that you just shrug when they finally come to install your internet after six weeks only to discover that Wifi isn't part of the package, so you learn to live without: one of the many first world luxuries we live without. But it is a luxury, and no one has ever been known to die without Wifi. I mean, really.

We are going on eight months here in Argentina. Soon it will be a year. It feels like a lifetime. I remember my old life in the States as a vague recollection of hazy mental snapshots accompanied with feelings of warm fuzzies. I do remember that it was clean and neat and organized, predictable and boring and I had a lot of control over it. That I remember.

It is the EXACT OPPOSITE here.

Normal now is so vastly different than what it used to be.

Now normal is no TV (well, we have a TV, just no reception), no landline, no dishwasher, no (working) microwave, no dryer (whine), dogs that bark incessantly ev.er.y.where, bars on our windows to keep out the bad people, a water filter on our tap to keep out the bad critters, only one car, and little money.

Normal is seeing babies (or entire families) on motorcycles.


Today we went to visit a rural church plant south of here, out in the middle of the desert. Today was Mother's Day in the US. I only knew that because of Facebook. {Thank you, Facebook. Whatever would I do without you? Oh yeah, probably have a cleaner bathroom and all the clothes would be folded so, no loss there.}

This is not a Mother's Day post, because I have nothing deep or though-provoking to say about today. Every day is Mother's Day to me. And Christmas, and birthdays... we should celebrate every day. But I read quite a few Mother's Day posts; this was my favorite, I guess because I agree with her sentiments pretty much exactly.

I spent my Mother's Day getting dirty. It was a day like any other here.

When we arrived in time for lunch at the rural church (meat on the grill), my daughter took one look and said to me [fortunately in English], "Ew. I am not eating that meat. Do you see all the flies on it?".

I did.

I have never seen so many flies in all my life (this is not an exaggeration). Fortunately, there were only a few on the meat. The other thousands were swarming nearby.

We ended up eating it, of course. It was fantastic and delicious. It's hard to get a bad piece of meat in Argentina. The smoke and heat from the fire eventually scared the flies off so they were at least no longer sitting on the grilling meat, just hovering and buzzing nearby. Hundreds of them hung out on the hood of our car, where it sat warm in the autumn sun.

the bathroom

When nature called and it could no longer be ignored, I asked where the bathroom was. I was not surprised when they indicated the outhouse behind the tiny house. I took my toddler's hand and we headed back there, and continued walking right on past the outhouse, down the country lane. With all those flies outside, I felt a flicker of momentary missionary weakness and just didn't feel like braving the inside. Some days I opt out of roughing it. In this case, there was a more appealing second option. The Great Outdoors.

We found a few waist high desert bushes and squatted there. I am teaching my girls how to properly pee outside - something previously unknown to them. The prep and logistics are a learned skill, after all. So far they think it's funny and get a kick out of seeing me demonstrate. I have actual "after" pictures of me with my pants unzipped because I often forget to close my fly. Squatting and unzipped pants are the norm now. I have also relaxed to the point where I don't care too very much if a car zooming past several hundred yards away happens to see my bare white butt gleaming in the desert sun. Oh well, sorry, hope you enjoyed the view.

My kids got filthy today, as usual. Sometimes it bothers me, sometimes I handle it just fine. Today it bothered me. Sometimes I just get so tired of all the dirt. It's inside my house, it's outside, it gets dumped in the car, on the seats, and on the bathroom floor. It brings out the dirt inside of me, too. Because I HATE DIRT!



unzipped fly at potty break on field trip somewhere in the desert


Recently we went on a field trip (the one above. Dino museum and excavation in the middle of the desert - pretty neat). When I had my kids fill out a one page Field Trip Report because I'm such a slave-driving homeschooling mother, my daughter put this as the answer to one of the things she saw and learned about on the trip,

"Dirt and dirt and dirt and dirt."

Later, as I threw the kids' thoroughly soiled sneakers and clothes into my small washer, and as I washed the dirt and sand out of my socks and rinsed it off my battered and worn Mary Janes, I thought of Jesus.

He washed the dirty, dusty feet of His followers. He kneeled before them and washed filthy feet. Desert dust encrusted feet. He washed them.

And He said,

"Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. ¹⁵ I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you."

Sometimes I wonder if I do this - wash feet the way Jesus did. Wash them at all. As we drove home, I felt like the day had been a failure, mostly pointless. Like, what good did it do, us being there in this rural, dirty place full of really great, humble people? More humble than I am, for sure... What good did it do, me being there? In situations like today's, I am just babysitting - following my adventurous three year old around, keeping her from stepping on rusty nails, in dog poop, and playing with trash. Probably looking like an overly-preoccupied mother who just needs to sit down and let her kid wander around unsupervised like everyone else does. But I can't. I'm just not like them. I never will be. And it shows more than I like it to. It exhausts me, and I feel like I just take up space at times, helping no one, reaching no one, unable to finish conversations, and what's the point? Tony is able to sit at the table and talk, but I rarely sit in these situations. After several hours in places like this, I just want to leave.  

Oftentimes I find out later that it really was a good day. God did show up, in spite of my shortcomings (many) and my personal feelings on how the day went. This little church plant of new believers, very humble country folk, needs visitors. The pastor works mostly alone. He's doing a great job, but I'm sure he could use some help. He asked for it in a certain way. He actually told Tony that it would be great if he could come back and disciple the youth there. 

It's hard to say no to something like that, and I don't know that Tony will. He loved it there. I can't see him saying no. But we are getting to the point now that we have to actually pray for wisdom to know what to start saying no to. There is just so much to do here and so much that we are already doing, we have to begin to put on the brakes and really seek God as to where to focus. I can see us spreading ourselves very thin, then burning out.

Every little thing we do counts. In spite of fickle emotions that may fluctuate on any given day, the ups and downs of being here, the hard things, the dirt, I have to remember that in all labor there is profit. What I have to offer may not be much, and even on days like this when I may even feel that I don't do it well, that it's pointless, I have to remember that God is working out his purposes.

the church - an old, abandoned trailer



grilling behind the church building



inside the church - this is as big as it is



Isaiah 60:1

 

José and Daniela

 

their daughter Luzmila



“Arise, shine, for your light has come”   ~Isaiah 60:1