Welcoming Winter

As I scroll through Facebook, I am reminded of summer. Teachers are finishing end of year cleaning. Parents are proud of their graduating students. Students are enjoying their new freedom at the pool/river/beach. People are traveling. Even the people that are officially adults and don’t get to do anything fun are complaining about the heat while enjoying beautiful popsicles with a summery background.

But this isn’t a blog about the danger of comparing my life to others, or the dangers of Facebook. Even without the benefit of social media to see all the best filtered moments of other people’s lives, my own heart tells me what I should expect at this time of year. Summer is typically a time of newness. Warmth. Freedom. Exciting things. Traveling. Visitors.

So as I watch others begin their summers from afar, I watch the leaves fall off the trees in my yard. I put on (another) jacket before walking to the store. I put off showering (again) because it is too cold. And I wish it could be summer in Bolivia.

But during summer in Bolivia, I wished for winter. As I put up our Christmas tree in shorts, I listened to Christmas music and dreamed of a white Christmas (as if we have white Christmas’ in Texas). I got a sunburn while I went Christmas shopping. I sweated during Christmas dinner with a scarf on in 95 degree weather because it felt more festive.

All of the seasons are reversed in Bolivia, and I often find myself wishing for the season of the Northern Hemisphere. And as a result, I don’t enjoy any of the seasons.

Rather than buying some pumpkin, lighting some candles, and enjoying the leaves in the yard, I wish for summer. Rather than enjoying summer-time at Christmas, I trick myself into believing it’s actually really cold and festive.

And in the process, I miss out on the season I am in.

How often do we do that with seasons of life as well?

We think that this time in our life should look a certain way, and then we are disappointed when it turns out differently.

We think God should have done a certain thing at a certain time, and try to make our life look the way we think it should.

And in the process, we miss out on the season that He has us in.

In Ecclesiastes 3:1, God promises that there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

We can trust Him to be good even in the seasons that we don’t want. We can trust that He is all-knowing and all-powerful, even when we would rather be in someone else’s season.

We can trust Him in the summer, winter, spring, and fall because of Jesus. Hebrews 4:15-16 says,

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

Jesus came to live among men. He knows what it is to be cold, and what it is to be hot. But more than that, He knows what it is to suffer, to be hungry, to hurt. And yet, He was without sin.

Because of Jesus, we can be joyful in the season we’re in. Not because it might be a good season disguised as a bad one. Not even necessarily because of what great things God might do because of this hard season (although He might).

We can be joyful because Jesus sympathizes with us in our weakness. And because He does, we have the promise of forgiveness of sins and eternal life with Him. We can draw near to Him in every season to receive grace and find mercy.

Waiting in Line.. For the Glory of God

I tapped my foot impatiently as I checked the time. Again. The line behind me was beginning to grumble impatiently as well. After waiting for two hours for the legal assessor to show up, I was all grumbled out.

I had been in this office the day before to submit my paperwork to annul my foreigner’s ID, and request a Bolivian ID. The day before, the man told me I was missing my marriage certificate, and a bank deposit of $2.50. “You can come back tomorrow.” He said. “I’ll be here from 7:00am – 3:00pm.”

So with that in mind, I had called Franco and asked him to meet me at the civil registry where we got married. I got on the bus to meet Franco, and mentally chided myself. I just requested this same form three days ago, and turned it in when I requested my Bolivian birth certificate. I should have asked for two…just in case.

When I arrived at the civil registry, I checked the time again. They should have opened at 3:00, but at 3:10 there was still a line outside of the closed door. I took my place in line, and waited. Soon, the notary arrived and warned the crowd that there were no birth certificates available today. Several people grumbled and left. I confirmed, “But there are marriage certificates?” She assured me there were.

As I waited inside, I watched as the notary ran back and forth between the internet router and her computer. After about 30 minutes she announced that there was no internet, and that we would need to return in the morning at 8:30.

A little discouraged, Franco and I got a bus back home and made a plan. We would go early in the morning to get the marriage certificate, then to the bank, and then back to Segip (the government office) to turn in all of the paperwork.

The next morning we got a bus back into the city and arrived at the civil registry at 8:28. Two minutes early! We took our place in line, and waited. And waited. At 9:05, the doors were opened, and the line became a mob. Not wanting to experience personal injury, we became the last in line. When it was finally our turn, a family rushed in needing a death certificate for their father. They needed it urgently so that they could take his body to the funeral home. How can you say no to that??

 Thirty minutes later it was our turn again, and another bereaved man urgently needed a death certificate. But this time, after seeing how long it took, I became assertive. “I’m sorry, but we have been waiting since 8:30. It will only take 5 minutes.” The man was not happy, but the notary felt sorry for us at this point, and let us go.

At 11:05, we walked out of the office with our marriage certificate in hand! We rushed to the bank, and waited in line for our number to be called. When it was my turn, I told the teller that I needed to make a deposit to Segip for 17 bolivianos. ($2.50) He was very confused, because I was a foreigner, and foreigners have to pay more. I managed to convince him I knew what I was doing (kind of), and walked out with my receipts.

At this point, it was almost 11:30, and we decided to rush to Segip to make sure we had time to submit my documents and take my fingerprints before they closed. When we arrived, the legal assessor's door was closed. We asked the secretary, and she instructed us to take a seat. “He should be back in an hour… give or take.” I wanted to cry. An hour? What happened to “I’ll be here from 7:00- 3:00?!”

We decided to eat lunch and come back. When we came back, after an hour, the door was still closed. So we sat and waited. And waited. I began to think of all the things I could have done with the last two hours. I began to list all of the things wrong with the system. How unjust it was. The line began to grow behind us, and after 45 minutes the line was restless. A lady walked by with a nametag, and an older man in line asked when the legal assessor would be in. She replied, “Oh, I don’t think he’s coming back today. He had to go to court.” The line erupted in complaints. I wanted to cry again. The line continued to complain, and we walked away. With smoke coming out of my ears.

I was so angry that we had wasted so much time. Almost an entire day wasted waiting in lines. I questioned the system. Why did no one seem to be able to do their job? Was it actually their fault, or was it the way things were set up? What if people did their jobs to the best of their ability? What if people did their jobs for the glory of God?

And then I felt the conviction in my heart that comes from the Holy Spirit. What about me? Am I waiting in lines for the glory of God? Not very well. I tend to see waiting in line as a waste of my time. A distraction from things that are actually important.

How different would my waiting be if I saw it as an opportunity to talk to the people in line with me? To show meekness and humility and patience? To not grumble?  How would God be glorified in that?

So although I’m hopeful that the waiting in lines and paperwork necessary to become a Bolivian citizen are almost over, I know that my days of waiting in lines are not. This is Bolivia – there will always be lines (or at least mobs of people) waiting for something. My prayer is that the Lord would teach me to glorify Him in the mundane things like waiting in lines. And may He continue to show you and I areas of our lives that He wants to work in. For His glory, and our good.

Have You Ever?

Have you ever seen someone pour beer on their car? Sprinkle beer around their house? Shoot innocent strangers with a water gun from their car? Burn fake money and incense in charcoal on their sidewalk? Come to Cochabamba today and you can!

Today is a holiday known in Bolivia as Martes de Challa. On the Tuesday following Carnaval (Mardi Gras) weekend, each family offers “sacrifice” to the PachaMama (the god of mother earth). Franco estimates that around 80% of families participate, and judging by the smoke in the air, he must be right. A charcoal fire is lit, and incense is burned. Street vendors also sell miniature items such as money, houses, cars, etc. that can be burned in the fire. The idea is that by burning these items, the PachaMama will bless you by giving you the things you burned. Sprinkling beer on your possessions is a way of blessing the items you already have. It is a dark time in Bolivia, and is a reminder of how many people around us are living without Jesus, in fear and superstition. I don’t have any pictures I took myself, because I didn’t think that would go over very well, but I borrowed some from google to give you an idea.

Blessing of the bus

Miniature items to burn as sacrifice to Mother Earth - Pachamama

The burning of the items

The entire weekend is considered a holiday in Bolivia, and many celebrate by drinking heavily. It is a dangerous weekend for many. This year it is estimated that over 20 people were killed in accidents related to the celebration of Carnaval. Being out in public can be dangerous even if you are not celebrating. Today on our way to the corner store we were sprayed by a stranger passing by with a water gun. Often though, the water guns are filled with other liquids that are more harmful and or smelly.

For this reason, our church puts on a camp for young adults during this weekend every year as an alternative to celebrating in the traditional ways. This year Franco was invited to teach! The camp was located about two hours outside of the city in the mountains – and it was cold! There were about 60 people from the church in all, and it was a great weekend.

Franco taught about Ephesians 5, imitating God by walking in love, light, wisdom and purity. I was able to spend time with some of the young girls from church, and enjoyed getting to know them better. Bolivian youth camps are MUCH different than any camp I ever went to. The idea of sleep is just that – an idea. I think I was the only one who slept more than 5 hours a night… I felt old! The games are also extreme. One game included eating 20 olives in as little time as possible. Another included team work- three people worked together to eat a raw onion, bell pepper, and tomato in as little time as possible. And the worst, two volunteers from each team were required to take off their (dirty) sock, place it over a bottle of water, and drink the water through the sock. I couldn’t (and wouldn’t!) have done it, but the boys didn’t seem to mind! It was an exhausting weekend, but it was a good time to spend with the youth of our church.

Franco teaching about God's will

Can you imagine eating these raw in under two minutes???

Time for lunch!

The power went out one night, so we had a nice candle light, fire hazard dinner.

Worship Time - Franco is hiding behind the guitar

When we made it back to Cochabamba around 9:30 last night, we discovered that there was flooding on the road to our house. You can see a short video here: https://www.facebook.com/sallen507/videos/10155679284064079/

None of the public transportation was working, and the taxi’s didn’t want to risk it either. Thankfully, friends from church generously took us to their house and let us stay with them. This morning we were able to get home safely. The roads are still a mess, and in many places it is filled with debris. We are very grateful that there was no flooding in our house. Water did get into the living room, but the rug was the only casualty.

We will be visiting some of the families tomorrow from Happy Hour that live in the more affected areas to see how we can help. Please be praying for those whose lives have been disrupted by the flooding. Please pray that the Lord would give us opportunities to love and serve those around us that have been affected, and that people might come to know Jesus through these floods.

SIX MONTHS

Grieving is a strange thing. In some ways, it seems like it should be a very private and personal process. In other ways, it seems like it needs to be public and shared.

Public grief is a tricky thing though. Although I want to be open about how God is working in our lives, and what He is teaching us, I want to be careful in how I portray our grief.

I don’t want to ever pretend like grieving the loss of a child is easier than it is.

God is good. He is faithful. He has walked with us, comforted us, provided for us, and continually reminds us of who He is. But that hasn’t taken away the pain and the tears.

 In the last six months I have found myself crying in food courts, walking through Hobby Lobby, during Christmas toasts, and on airplanes. I have walked out of baby dedications, wedding ceremonies, and restaurants. I have been angry, impatient, and bitter with people that didn’t deserve my frustration. So when I write about what God’s teaching me, I want to avoid appearing overly spiritual or optimistic, because that isn’t realistic.

I don’t want to write about all the hard things either, begging for sympathy or for my own praise.

There are a lot of tears and fits before I get to the lesson learned in the blog. Although it is therapeutic for me to write about what God’s teaching me, my desire is for God to be glorified in my weakness.

With that in mind, today would have been Ezekiel’s six month birthday. Before I was pregnant, I made fun of the monthly pictures that new moms would post. Let’s be honest, I still do. It’s just a little more somber now. I appreciate the concept of celebrating milestones, I just think it’s a little cheesy. (Sorry to anyone who does this…) While I was pregnant with Ezekiel, I told my sister, “I will never do that.”

And, I won’t. But I do wonder. What milestones would we have had? I see babies around me growing, and wonder what our son would be doing now. Would he be teething, rolling over, sitting up on his own, eating real food, sleeping through the night?

A few months ago, I was putting some of the baby clothes and things away, when I came across a gift from a sweet friend in Denton. It was a calligraphy print I was given the week before Ezekiel was born as a decoration for the nursery.  It was kindly put away in the week following his burial, but it was uncovered as I was organizing.

It says, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” 3 John 1:4

At first it seemed like a slap in the face. I felt my stomach sink, and the familiar burn of my eyes before the tears start. But then I felt the peace of the Lord reminding me of just how true that is. And although the tears still came, I smiled too.

I don’t know what milestone Ezekiel would have reached at six months, but he certainly wouldn’t be walking, and he definitely would not have a relationship with the Lord. I don’t know how things work in heaven, so who knows if he is walking, but he is definitely in the Truth, in the presence of our God. And I couldn’t ask for a joy greater than that. A bittersweet joy – yes. But joy nonetheless.

So today, at six months, I am taking time to grieve privately, and also publicly. The state is on civil strike today, so everything is closed. It would be easier to make the day busy and distract myself, but the Lord in His goodness forced me to rest today. I am reading through prayers and journals from the last six months to remember what God has done.

I have met many women over the last six months that know what it is to burry a child. And many more that have lost babies that were too small to burry. So I think it is important to share what God is teaching me so that He might be glorified through it.

Today I am thankful for the God that knows what it is to suffer. The God that knows what it is to give His son. The God that understands our suffering because He suffered. The God that is good in all He does. The God that on my hardest days, reminds me of His promises and truth. The God that shows His love through sacrificial love.

Thank you for sharing in our grief. Our prayer is that the Lord is His goodness and mercy would comfort you today with Himself. That you would trust Him with your questions, anger, bitterness, and impatience, knowing that He is good, even when life is hard.

Adventures in Shoe Shopping

This weekend we were invited to a wedding for one of Franco's friends from Camiri. We quickly realized that we were going to need something a little nicer than our "Sunday best", since that usually involves our nicest jeans. :)

As we were contemplating how expensive this was going to be, Franco got a call from one of the elders at church. They just happened to have some suits they wanted to GIVE Franco! That afternoon we went, and it was as if the suit had been made for him. God's provision is so neat sometimes.

Then I went through my dresses (all three of them) and found one that would work... except that one of the straps was broken.

I decided it would have to do and brought it anyway. When we mentioned the dress to Franco's mom she suggested we go visit her friend, the seamstress.

The seamstress fixed the strap in five minutes and wouldn't let me pay!

SO, with money ($20) still in the budget, I went shoe shopping.

As I've mentioned before, shopping in Bolivia is never a relaxing endeavor. But, flip flops and tennis shoes are not appropriate wedding attire, so I was left with no alternatives.

We set out in the 90 degree heat to the market. When I found shoes I liked at the first stand, I was ready to buy them and be done. However, there were none available in my size... according to the lady who glanced confidently back at her pile of merchandise to confirm.

So we moved on. The next stand also had shoes that were less my style, but convenient and well priced. The young girl assured me she had them in my size, and came back with a different style of shoes, that yes, were in my size.

Feeling defeated, I followed my mother-in-law across the busy street. (The government is on strike since May and there are no police in town. Franco calls Camiri the Wild Wild West of Bolivia.)

Inside the market, we found a stand with a lady that Franco's mom seemed to know. She was very patient and showed me at least ten different shoes. I liked the first pair, but couldn't convince her to let me try them on. When I did, I realized they were sized differently because they are a Brazilian brand. So she brought me the next size.

 OF A DIFFERENT STYLE.

They fit, but now they were a different style that I didn't like. So she brought the same style, in a different color. That didn't go with my dress. After about ten minutes of feeling like the biggest most demanding drama queen in Bolivia, the lady brought out a different pair of shoes, in a different color, that I DID like!

So now we both have nice clothes to wear to the wedding and a fun story to tell.

The moral of this story is "Buy your shoes at Ross and save yourself the trouble of international shoe shopping".

And that God provides, even in mundane things like dress clothes for a wedding. :)

Of course the shoes don't appear in any of the photos....

~MERRY CHRISTMAS~

Merry Christmas from Bolivia! The temperature has been in the 90's this last week, so it feels more like the 4th of July, but our decorations are up, and activities are in full swing! Here is a picture update of our last few weeks......

One of the boys from Happy Hour- the first time his art work was put on a refrigerator.

Election Day on December 3rd. No cars are allowed on the streets so it was a peaceful day!

Christmas Shopping in the market for Happy Hour snacks

The ride back from the market....SO MANY SNACKS!

Gifts for the mom's and children!





The twins that needed premature formula are growing well!

Evelyn, the girl in pink, with her bible! (The green bag under her arm.)

Our three weekly/daily visitors! (Bible is in green bag on the left.)

Our neighbors down the street!

THANK YOU -THANK YOU- THANK YOU
for giving to provide bibles and Christmas gifts for the families in our community.

Life's Not Fair...And Other Lessons Learned on Public Transportation

Friday afternoon, Franco and I needed to go into the city for a meeting at church. It was about the time of rush hour traffic, and as we climbed onto the bus, we quickly realized there were no available seats.

Although I would always prefer a seat, I am perfectly capable of standing. I might have sighed just a little though as the 8 young men close to us remained seated. Chivalry in not a common virtue here.

After a few minutes, a lady sitting on the bus engine got off the bus, and I sat down with the other three women sitting there. ( I couldn't find a good picture of a bus engine, but it is a box next to the driver. Actually I did, but the pictures of women hanging in the bus were not appropriate for this blog. It can function as a seat, and also a seat warmer. Great on a cold day, not so great in 90 degree weather.)  As I was enjoying my relative comfort, an elderly woman struggled to climb up the steps of the bus. She paid her fare, and looked in vain for a seat.  When she realized that all the seats were full, she reached for the rail, and remained standing.

 I looked around, shocked, but not really, as all of the young men around us pretended they didn’t see her. Even though chivalry is not common, respect for the elderly generally is.

Translation:
Woman: It seems like there are no gentlemen anymore.
Man: There are gentlemen, the problem is a lack of seats....

I counted to ten, sure that one of the men around us would offer her a spot. I didn’t mind offering her mine, but it was on the bus engine, so it wasn’t ideal. Finally, when I realized that no offer was coming, I stood up and offered her my less than accommodating spot. (Not out of selfless-ness or joy, but out of frustration with the people around me.)

I wedged myself into a corner holding onto the rail, and Franco told me in English, “It isn’t fair.” I agreed. But then I started to think about my mom’s response to that complaint when I was younger.

“Life is not fair.”

It’s so true. And I think it is a lesson that we will probably never stop learning.

And for Christians, especially, I think fairness is a difficult thing to get our minds around.

We believe in, and serve a just God. A God that hates evil. A God that is good. A God that is gracious. A God that is merciful. And while all of those things are true, they can be hard to squeeze into our idea of a God that we can understand.

I have struggled with God’s fairness over the last few months. I have talked with women that had absolutely no prenatal care, and they have healthy babies. I have talked with women as they pour a mixture of cornstarch and water into their baby’s bottle, because they can’t afford milk. I have welcomed children into our home for lunch, because their mom left them without food for the day.

And in my pride, and desire for control, I don’t like that I did everything I knew how to do and my son still didn’t live. It doesn’t seem fair.

But then I think about Jesus. Jesus did everything right. He lived a perfect, sinless life, and was stilled killed. Brutally, and unfairly.

Because God is just, but He is also gracious and merciful.

And although I feel like my son's death is tragic, it really is not tragic that he was spared all of the pain of this world to be with Jesus. It is gracious and merciful.

This morning, I read a passage in Ephesians 3:14-19. It has always been one of my favorites, but this morning as I read, the Lord showed me something different.

“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be STRENGTHENED with power through HIS Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts though faith-that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have STRENGTH to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth,  and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with the fullness of God.”

Apart from being the longest run on sentence in the bible, the idea of being strengthened in order to know God’s love had never occurred to me before. The more I learn about God’s character and suffering, the more I am realizing that being strengthened by the Spirit is NECESSARY in order to even try to understand God’s love.

It is so wide, so long, so deep, so high, that of course it doesn’t make sense to me. It often doesn’t look fair. It doesn’t look like my idea of what love should be. It doesn’t in my life, or probably your life, and definitely didn’t as Christ suffered on the cross.

Because God is just, but He is also gracious and merciful.

God’s love surpasses knowledge. God’s love can’t be understood apart from the strengthening of the Spirit.

May our suffering and the strengthening of the Spirit allow us to be filled with the fullness of God.

Because God is just, but He is also gracious and merciful. Even when life is not fair.