Water is Life

World Water Day occurred a little over a month ago, March 22, 2015.   I am not sure about you, but I often forget about water.  I don’t forget to drink it on a daily basis, I instead forget about its importance.  I forget how precious it is.  So many things are connected to this resource – health, growth, development, survival.  When I arrived on the field the week of March 21, water decided to remind me of its importance.

At the beginning of the week, I experienced life without water.  Due to some community construction, our field home did not have water for about a week.  Thankfully, I brought drinking water with me from the city, but no access to water = no showers, no flushing the toilet, no boiling water for tea (I must admit I did not receive many hugs that week).   There were days when we traveled uphill to the other field house with buckets to carry water back to our living quarters.  This small inconvenience is nothing to what other people experience on a daily basis.  While I trudged uphill, I remembered Samaritan’s Purse tweets from different offices during World Water Day: teams fixing hand pumps, children learning about water, and the post “On average, women in developing countries spend 25% of their day collecting water for their families.” There are women spending ¼ of their day collecting water.  And here I was huffing and puffing at the slight inconvenience of less than an hour’s work. 

"It was a way for me to serve, but it all happened because of God."

In the middle of the week, I witnessed life blooming because of water.  I jumped on the back of a motorcycle and travelled down mountain curves with Samaritan’s Purse Bolivia’s agricultural and livestock team.   After about 45 minutes, we reached a small mountain community of 10 farmers near the town of Chuma.  We hiked further down the mountain to reach an adobe house of one of the farmer beneficiaries.  We all gathered in a circle around our agricultural team member Freddy as he summarized the irrigation system he helped implement.  Freddy, or construction guru as I call him, presented the final part of his project to the farmers.  The irrigation project has been going on for the past 6 months and will provide water for a community of 10 different farmers.  Using the water from a nearby waterfall, he and the farmers were able to create an irrigation system that will run to each farm.  This access to water will enable crops to grow.

"Thank you brother Freddy.  Thank you Samaritan's Purse."

After hearing the success of the irrigation system, I trekked around the property to see the fruit of the labor.  We climbed the side of the mountain and found land full of papaya, avocado, lemons, and other scrumptious fruit.  As I walked across the farmland, I saw growth.  And water helped make that happen. 

"Now, our crops will grow."

I thank God for the work Samaritan’s Purse is doing with this resource. We often forget that there are some who do not have access to water.   Water provides life.  And I hope that now whenever I use it I will remember the life it brings and the way it points to the ultimate giver of everlasting life. 

“Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” 

John 4:14

Device with Words

I pull my rain jacket hood tight as I walk through the mud to Las Asemblas de Dios, a small church in the mountains of Chuma.   But even the gloomy weather cannot put a damper on tonight.  Tonight is a night of celebration.  Samaritan’s Purse Bolivia is partnering with Las Asemblas de Dios in order to establish a Christian radio station in the town.  RADIO PESCADOR 97.1 FM will be controlled by Pastor Jose Luis who works with Samaritan’s Purse.  

I walk into the small, but cozy church building.  The evening begins with worship and praise,  

“The radio will be a powerful tool.  We need to thank God for it.”

The words almost throw themselves at my face and cause me to question, “Am I a grateful individual? How often do I actually thank God for things in my life: tools, people, events,etc?” Before my thoughts become bogged down by my selfishness, my mind returns to the service.  Various pastors speak in front of a congregation describing their hopes to reach over 31,000 listeners.   They pray for wisdom.  

“We have a device to give these people more than words – we have the chance to give them words of LIFE.”

As the service ends, Pastor Jose Luis invites us to see the radio.  We climb up the hills of grass and mud to reach the home where the radio is stationed.  My deep breathing is a clear indicator that the 15 minute hike is no walk in the park, but the trek does not hinder this congregation.  As I try to catch my breath, anxious church members scurry into a room to see the transmitter.  

Long trek uphill. 

From afar, I can see teenagers giggle and beg family members to take photos.  Children’s eyes light up as they look at the red lights on the alien looking machine.  We filter up the stairs  into the area where Jose Luis’ voice should echo.  But before my ears hear his words, rain drops showers on my head.  I immediately look around and expect to see people racing towards their homes.  Buckets of water pour from clouds, but the congregation does not flee.  Instead, feet run to any forms of shelter - overhangs, random door spaces- all around the radio.  These people are still eager to listen.  

Everyone is excited about this radio.

Listening to the radio live.

Groups congregate around phones and the radio room to hear the slight echoes of the Pastor Jose Luis on 97.1 FM.  “We want to reach every corner of our village, so that our people will know Jesus.”  The faces of the congregation glow with excitement. I look at the radio and again see lights blinking on a piece of metal. But this time, I see it not as a machine working properly. I see it as a tool coming to life.

May we all learn to use the tools around us to impact our own cities. And may we remember to thank Him who has given us such tools.

-kc

“There will be fruit.  Much fruit.  And it all will be for God’s glory.” 

– Enrique

I managed to snag a photo with some of the ladies!

Fields of Faith

What does it look like to stand firm?  These past few days, I have traveled by motorcycle to different communities visiting some agricultural and ministry projects with Samaritan’s Purse Bolivia.  Some rides were 30 minutes, other rides were 1.5 hours.  My jello legs have no comprehension of the word firm.   

Eidel, a wonderful worker on our agriculture team is analyzing the corn crops of various beneficiaries this week.  “Keri, let’s go visit a friend!” Eidel yelled as he started up the motorcycle and I jumped on the back.  We rode down the beautiful mountain of green to visit Pastor Johnny Gomez.  As we walked towards his home, his chickens greeted us, or rather squawked at us, daring the foreign faces to rob them of the precious corn on the ground.  

Pastor Johnny, welcomed me with a smile, which can be hard to find in the timid faces of Chuma people.  His wife took my hand and thanked me for visiting.  “Can we see your corn?” I asked.  His wife gracefully led me down the steep hills to their plot of farmland. 

My eyes tried to take in all the mountain beauty as my head tried to calculate the time it must take to trek down to their corn field.  I watched as Pastor Johnny carefully stepped across the plots showing me his crops growing in the dark soil.  While I know little about corn, Eidel seemed to be satisfied with the growth and the appearance of the plants.  As Eidel explained challenges farmers face, I curiously watched Pastor Johnny as he walked across his land.  He seemed to be in a deep state of concentration as he walked among the colors of yellow and green.  Suddenly, he broke 3 pieces of corn off the stalks and laid them in my hands.  He looked into my eyes and said,

“For you.”

I was overwhelmed by the generosity and had no idea how to explain my gratitude.  I managed to whisper thank you before asking him more questions about his life in Chuma.  I learned about his life as a pastor, farmer, husband, father, and carpenter.  He laughed as his children played with the chickens and he told me about his church.  I asked him about his joys and challenges in the region.  He told me about the difficulties of of ministering to other communities.  Communities that can be between 2-3 hours away...and all by foot.  

“It’s not easy.  But God is faithful.”   

His words rang in my ears as we traveled to see his church.  I watched him care for his flock with a similar patience and intention that I saw earlier that day when he walked in his fields.  After the service, I spoke to another pastor who was eager to tell me more about Pastor Johnny.  “Keri, I wish I could explain all the work the Lord has done.  That man has great faithfulness.”  He told me stories of Johnny’s growth as an individual, his eagerness to participate in seminary classes with Samaritan's Purse, and his fortitude in all aspects of life.  “He once was a timid man.  He received training with Samaritan’s Purse, and he now preaches with authority in his church of 50 members.  He even ministers to other communities.” With every story, it became clear that Pastor Johnny is a light in the town of Chuma. 

A sweet smelling aroma interrupted the wonderful stories.  I turned and saw Pastor Johnny and his family bringing plates out of a back room.  They then served the food to every person within the church.  I later learned that Pastor Johnny and his wife collect the small amount of food grown from their land and share that food with their church every month.  As I smelled the sweet corn on my plate, I thought about the enormous generosity I had witnessed that day.

Pastor Johnny's life is not easy.  I have seen some of the challenges that lie in Chuma, and I am sure there is much more my eyes do not see.  However, in the midst of the challenges, there is a man who is standing firm in his faith.  My legs are often wobbly in life's difficulties, but I hope I will always be able to always cry out Johnny's words, 

“It’s not easy, but God is faithful.”

Bolivian Water Balloons

Whooooosh. 

“That one was inches from my face!” I scream as I duck behind a nearby car.  I run for my life.  Yes.  Running.  Dodging.  Hiding behind cars.  Why am I acting in this way?  Well, every year around this time in Bolivia, there is the celebration called Carnaval that occurs in the days leading up to Ash Wednesday.  While many people in the States might ponder what they hope to give up for Lent, Bolvians ponder many ways to creatively soak people with water.  There are water gun drive-bys, catapults off of 6-story buildings, and 10 people with buckets hiding behind the nearest corner ready for their prey. 

This is not a costume.  It is protection for the Carnaval parade.

Being a “gringa” I am automatically a target in this madness. 

“Where do we go?  What’s the strategy?” I whisper to the other lone person hiding behind car metal.  I look to my left and see twenty people with buckets, balloons, and smirks.  Just as I begin to lose hope, a truck full of people/new targets drives around the street.  My diversion.  I thought my past experiences of Carnaval were intense.  They were nothing like this.  I sprint into a nearby restaurant completely out of breath – laughing, running from strangers, and battling the lack of oxygen in this city. 

Today, the remnants of thousands of water balloons cover the streets.  Throwing water at people or shooting foam all over someone’s face is no longer acceptable.  Today, instead of watching water balloons soar towards my person, I am listening to questions soar towards my ears.

 “You ready for the field tomorrow?” After being in Bolivia for about a month now, I will enter the field in less than 24 hours.  My friend asks, “Do you have a poncho, motorcycle helmet, and toilet paper?”

Sí, Sí, and definitely Sí.

Over the last month, I have translated office documents, worked with our IYCF (Infant and Young Child Feeding) Program within the Health Department, and brainstormed with our Communications Team.  My heart has been filled during devotions as our team (family) shares, worships, and prays.   I have listened to Children's Heart Project's beautiful testimonies about hearts that are physically and spiritually new.  I have managed to eat a spicy hot salteñas without crying.  I have started to navigate life in a big city even though I am directionally challenged.

Mother feeding her child after a Nutrition training program.

Daily, I am learning new things and answering new questions.

This afternoon's set of questions are all about Chuma.  “Are you nervous? Are you scared of rats?”  I chuckle and answer “Nervous? I’m excited I finally get to go to the field! And I laugh in the face of rats.  Last year, my roommates were these things called tarantulas and they were as big as my face.” 

But if I am truly honest, my emotions are exploding.  They are exploding almost as rapidly as those water balloons who liked to fly towards my face these last few days.  I am bubbling with a mix of nervousness and excitement.  I know there will be challenges, wonderful work, and lovely beauty.  I am ready to see what God is doing in the city of Chuma.  I am ready.  And this time, I don’t need hundreds water balloons.

-kc

           

Hands off MY food!

A few days ago, I ran back to my cabin to make my lunch.  I sliced some beautiful green apples and arranged some sweet juicy strawberries on a plate.  I cut into an orange, a perfect orange, that I had to climb a tree like Tarzan to obtain.  I pulled out all the stops-- even allowing myself a spoonful of peanut butter for the apple and the more expensive kiwi that I bought myself as a treat. Imagine everything you have ever dreamed about as far as the juiciest, tastiest, most delectable fruit.  That was my plate for lunch. My mouth is watering just thinking about all of that crazy deliciousness as I write this post right now.

I gathered up that plate of heaven and walked over to the school so I could eat with the other teachers for lunch.  I sat down and before I knew what was happening, a variety of hands started rushing to the plate.  No inquiries for permission, just hums of satisfaction as the teachers chewed those delicious fruits.  MY delicious fruit.   

"Que rico!" "Soooo tasty!"

My heart sank as it looked at the remnants of the once overflowing plate.  Soon, blood started to boil, and I used my fork to STAB into the last slivers of kiwi (I don't think anyone noticed the ogreish disgruntled attitude) Questions of manners flooded my brain - Did they not know that was MY lunch?  How rude!

Later that night, after my blood returned to its normal temperature, I was hanging out with some boys from youth group.  As we talked and laughed together, two boys opened their personal sized chip bags (the ones that have maybe 10 chips inside).  And you want to know what they did? They walked around the room to the other 3 of us and offered us a snack.  And at their action, cultural values smacked me in the face.  Ouch!

I remembered how the fruit event had led to confusion and frustration.  It had caused  judgement and a lack of understanding towards those hungry teachers.  I was quick to label them as thieves of my scrumptious food and my minutes of delight.  Their approach to food was DIFFERENT than mine.   Back home, we ask politely or assume something is someone else's until they offer (unless we are trying to steal our siblings french fries) -- but that's our food custom.  Here in Ecuador, you bring something to a group, you share.  Automatically.  Your plate is not yours.  Talk about having one of my sweet cultural customs stripped from my hands.  

Now, with my eyes opened a little wider, I am able to see this Ecuadorian value and their custom.  My individualistic (and often selfish) American self can learn a great deal from Ecuador.  This cultural difference - offering what I have to my community, even if it is a bag  of 10 chips or the most delicious of fruit, is kinda awesome. It discourages my selfishness and I need that.  

I need that a lot. 

Here's to learning more things about/from other cultures!

-kc

Have you ever had a cultural hiccup?

Jungle Stories // Eye Monster

I wake up in a zombie like fashion complete with the groaning and slow movement.  I gather all of my school things and struggle to remember how to put socks on correctly.

"Coffee....coffee..." I grumble as I rub my eyes in a stupor and head for the coffee pot.

A little while later, I am in the middle of my English class teaching about family words.  "BABY, SISTER, BROTHER!" we shout as a class.

Suddenly, my eye starts itching uncontrollably.  Three students look up at me and one shouts,

 "Miss Keri! El ojo es rojo! EYE RED!!! Tu eye es big! EYEEEEEE!!!!!"

The bell rings and I sprint to the bathroom.  I look into the mirror and barely recognize myself.

I stare back at a nearly cyclops face with an eye that seems to be on a mission to take over my nose and my other eye.  My sclera has even transformed from its typical cloudy white color.  It is now a  mix between scrumptious tomato and fire engine red.

I try to wash the eye--which is now becoming a size that only Wile E. Coyote has ever experienced.  I run to my cabin knowing this is some allergic reaction.  I throw medicine all over the counter.

"Ben....a....WHAT?"

I struggle to read the medicine bottle with my one good eye.  "I think this is it," I comment as I propel Benadryl into my mouth and chug a glass of water.

3 hours later, I awake in another zombie like state. The eye no longer itches, and I can actually look into the mirror without scaring myself completely.  No hospital visits today.

"How did this happen?" you might ask.  Upon further investigation, the culprit is a jungle moth.  Yes, you heard me.  The powder from the wings of this crazy creature somehow got on my pillow in the morning, caused my allergic reaction, and made my eye so distorted I scared little children.  Score for jungle critters.

love and monkeys,
jungle lady

Feliz Navidad, burning dolls, and recent happenings

Bethlehem in the Jungle




Roman soldier out of cardboard.

One Christmas program.  400 invited.  60 students. One Jungle.  

The night of the program really began weeks before: building structures for each class, sending invitations, cutting down trees, cutting up cardboard to make an awesome Roman soldier costume.  I walked over the rocks with my time spreadsheets and colored wristbands.  My walk was directed by the focus needed to coordinate the event.  I almost forgot what I was wearing.

I saw this face.  It was not until I passed by it and some shepherds that I remembered.  Oh, sweet little Erick.  Fear and confusion were in his eyes as he asked, “Miss Keri?!????????”

Erick the shepherd.

About 2 hours later, and after yelling “RAPIDO!” MUEVETE!” in my best Spanish Roman soldier accent, we only had 1 group left.
  
But then, the sky opened up.  Completely.  

I forgot that I live in the rain-forest.   “AYUDAME!” I looked to the right and saw parents desperately scurrying for shelter underneath the little tent coverings.  “LLUVIA!” I examined the left and saw teachers desperately trying to cover speakers and other electrical equipment.  The rain was not sprinkling, or even pouring, it seemed like it was trying to flood the entire property.  

What are we going to do?



They made this thing out of leaves. 

These people are going to kill me.  

Can I magically create 40 umbrellas for the last group of parents?

I wish I was Mary Poppins.  She is good at these things. 




Somehow it just happened.  Roberto directed us to the extra tent. The team of youth and I grabbed it and followed the last group of parents covering them as we soaked ourselves throughout Bethlehem. The last group finished singing to Mary and Joseph and then there was applause.  Such a sweet sound.  We made it.  And even with smiles as parents and children left running for home despite the downpour.  

Mi Navidad

Thanks to the wonderful Christy, friends and I had the opportunity to spend Christmas in the cold of Quito.  Fire sizzling, my first turkey cooking, Michael Buble singing, cheesecake preparing, Christmas lights sparkling, and advent wreath glowing.  Oh, and since it’s Ecuador, don’t forget those fireworks exploding.  It was absolutely refreshing :) During this time, I desperately missed dear loved ones living continents away, but I also realized how much thankfulness I have. Specifically, for the little Christmas things and for a Savior who is always with me (and cannot be separated by longitudes or latitudes).  

He was a baby, a child, a man, and then died-- for me.  How often do I fail to be thankful for that remarkable and astonishing fact throughout the year?  Please read this post from a friend who poses the question “Merry Christmas....now what?”

I want to VIBRANTLY live for Him, glorify Him, and give thanks to Him all year round. Not just at Christmas.

The Ecuador New Year vs. My New Year

Possible poison from that warlike rainfall or water filtration issues kept me away from New Year's shenanigans.  I stayed curled up in bed listening to Cumbia and Salsa music blasting from across the river.  Soon, the music intertwined with firework screeches and squalls.  My new favorite possession is my large pack of earplugs I keep beside my bed.  

I did get a chance to watch the ball drop on YouTube....I think it was from 2013.  Whoops.   

I think New Year's Eve really turns into New Year's week here.  Fireworks begin detonating days before 2014 even starts thinking about showing up.   One of the biggest traditions is the burning of these almost human-size dolls called "Los Años Viejos" (The Old Years).  Almost the minute after Christmas ends, the streets start lining up with these effigies with faces anywhere from politicians to Spiderman.  At the stroke of midnight, people burn their doll in hopes to burn away the old year in order to be ready for the new.  All of the bad of the year is cast upon the doll, that "dies" at midnight as it is burned in flames.  As Ecuadorian friends were telling me about the tradition, my mind thought about the cultural training I received at Missions Training International just a few months ago.  I thought this tradition would have made it to the discussion list--- aspects of the culture.

 Burning cardboard and sand dust will not make sufferings, mistakes, or the bad disappear.  How then is there good news for 2014? What must we do?  It is not what we must do, but what He did.  My hope for this year is that more Ecuadorians will know He who says "Behold, I make all things new." -Revelation 21:5 

Latest Happenings

I am a busy lady.  We have the end of our semester rushing upon us, so I am of course frantically grading, exam planning, thinking about climbing trees with some monkeys, etc.  I do love going into town to see these little ones on the right :)

Prayer requests:

Nurse team that will be here soon

Drama/Youth will be restarting officially next week

Fundraising for a car/scooter into town for transportation

Fundraising for the youth group

Much love and more updates to come!

1 John 4:7,

Keri 

OH I KNOW YOU WERE WAITING FOR IT.  ROMAN SOLDIER PARTY TIME.