Open Circle Peru

The first time I saw her, she was sitting on the aisle about halfway back at church. I had an idea who she was because I’d been told she might be coming. She fit the description I had formed in my mind: short in stature with gray, curly hair and glasses. She had a broad smile on her face, as well. During the worship service, we spent a few minutes greeting one another in the name of God and offering Christ’s peace with those around us. As I made my way through the congregation to shake hands, I moved toward her until I could grasp her hand as well. Her daughter-in-law and son beamed with pride and joy as they introduced her to me.

“Guten Morgen,” I said, “Wie geht es Ihnen?” I knew she had immigrated to the United States from Germany as a young woman.

Her eyes sparkled with a new light, but – she said – her German was rough. She hadn’t spoken it really in years. With a laugh, she said, “You speak better German than I do!” We wanted to talk longer, but the musician had started to play and we had to get back to the business of the service at hand.

By the time I met her, Oma (a lot of people called her this—the German word for grandma) had been on this earth for more than ninety years. She had raised a family, met grandchildren and great grandchildren, and had lost a husband of many, many years. She still missed him and had a bust of him—one that had been created by an artist friend years ago—in her room. Even though the years since their physical parting continued to pass, he was still her husband.

She was faithful to him just as she was faithful to her God. She loved coming to church. She sang the songs of the faith. She said her prayers. She received communion and was strengthened by the bread and the wine. God was a constant presence in her life. Both a constant joy as well as a constant source of questions. Many times as we sat and talked, she would look at me and ask me why she was still here. More than ninety years is a long time on this earth. She missed her husband. She missed her health. She missed the independence she once enjoyed. “Why am I still here?” she asked not because she hated or regretted the life she’d been given. She was just tired, and she wanted to know.

But I didn’t know the answer. “So I would have the chance to meet you,” I’d tell her with a smile. “I know you are a blessing to me and to many others.”

She’d smile and laugh at this, but still she would want to know. She was an amazing woman. Although she wondered, she never gave up on living. God had given her a race to run, and even though she didn’t understand why, she’d run as long and as well as she could. “I guess God has a reason,” she’d say, and then she’d start looking again for that reason.

A few weeks ago, she got her chance to stop looking. Seven months shy of her one hundredth birthday, she left this land she was just passing through so she could move into the house prepared for her by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Her race was over. Her life was well lived.

That’s what we can all hope to do: run the race set before us. The course varies for each of us. Sometimes it seems we are running in circles and getting nowhere. Other times, the road is so steep and hard, our legs ache and our lungs feel as though they will burst in our chests. Sometimes the road leads through green valleys or dry deserts or beside flowing streams. Whatever the race and whatever the course, God asks us to do just one thing: to run it well. Live life to the fullest. Live for the joy. Keep the faith and finish well.

We had a friend Gabriella visit with us this week. If you’ve been following our blog, you might remember her. She was the woman with whom we caravanned to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, after our training in Colorado. That was the first leg of her journey around the country speaking about her mission work in Zambia (Africa). This past week brought her through Georgia and so we got together again. What a blessing it was.

Yesterday, we went to the local Farmer’s Market. When we lived here before, we went and were impressed. But that was earlier in the spring. This time we had some real produce from real gardens just around the corner. Yum! Fresh baby zucchini (which we sautéed with cheese), snap beans with big round beans inside, green tomatoes (which Audra fried for lunch today), beets, plums from a local farm, and so on. We even tried a few new things from the Latino sellers: tuna (the fruit from the prickly pear cactus) and chayote (a relative of the squash). I’m not sure we’ll have the tuna again (the taste was mild, and they were full of medium sized seeds), but the chayote is worth a second visit. It tastes like a cross between a winter squash and an artichoke. We’ll find some recipes and try it again, for sure. My family in Montana, Colorado and Washington has voted that we (my family here in Georgia) are the most unlikely to get sick in a foreign country because we like to try new things. (Actually, the truth is we just might be the ones likely to get sick for the very same reason! That’s okay. We like the adventure. Nothing ventured… no one gets sick! But is it worth it?)

Try some new things and be blessed in all you do today!

We got the first of our paperwork back in the mail. It wasn’t what we were looking for, though. The state of Georgia looked at the birth certificates and said they had the wrong signature (even though they were signed and stamped by a notary) and included a number to call so we could get the right ones. I called the number. Then I called again. And again. And again. For two hours, no one would pick up the phone. For another 30 minutes I was greeted by a busy signal. A good sign, I thought. At least I know they are open now. Finally, the phone rings and it is picked up on the other end…by a computer giving me a list of options, none of which was anything remotely like: “If you want to talk to a real person…” Perseverance, however, has it’s rewards and pushing a long shot button was put on hold to wait for an operator. It was worth it, because he took my request over the phone and told me when I could pick it up.

The state birth certificate office is in Decatur, a ‘burb on the northern side of Atlanta, and is nestled in a quiet neighborhood community in an old elementary school. There was little air conditioning and a lot of people and the official greeter was a pregnant woman who had been sitting in the heat all day. She wasn’t happy to see me and wasn’t interested in the instructions given to me over the phone. Seeing I was getting nowhere, I played along, filled out the forms she said I needed (but didn’t really need, after all), stood in line until my turn, paid my fee and got the birth certificates. Assured by the lady behind the Plexiglas window I had the right forms, I got in the car to head to the Secretary of State’s office across the street from the state capital building (on the southern edge of Atlanta). After circling a block three times, I found a place to park three blocks away from my destination. At least the sun wasn’t too hot… for the third day of summer… in Atlanta…

At a likely looking building I approached a man wearing a name tag. “Is this the Secretary of State’s office?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“The Secretary of State,” I said, “Is this where her office is?”

“I dunno’,” he said. “I’m here for Georgia Corrections…”

I decided to chance it anyway and walked down the covered walkway to the front door of the Atlanta twin towers. Checking in with security, I was directed to the eleventh floor on a very friendly elevator (that told me as I walked in if it was going up or down…talk about southern hospitality!). After a brief wait, I was informed (by a very friendly and apologetic public servant) that she could not accept those certificates. They were the wrong ones. They needed the signature on the front, not on the back and the color of the paper was to be blue instead of rainbow colored. She didn’t care that the signature was legible or that the notary seal was nice and crisp and raised like it’s supposed to be.

“It’s not going to work,” she said. “I can’t use these.”

“But I asked for…” I tried to explain.

“Yes,” she said kindly, “but they didn’t listen. You’re gonna’ have to go back…”

So back I went. Stood in line. Filled out forms. But did not pay the fee again. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. A few minutes before four o’clock they called my name, gave me my forms and I was back on the road again to the Secretary of State’s office. I arrived about a half hour later… and got the job done… at 5 o’clock… on the opposite side of Atlanta from where I live… with thousands of people wanting to go home… on the already congested interstate highways. It’s a good thing I know where some good coffee shops and book stores are in the city to wait for a break in rush hour…

We have six documents finished at the state level. Only three more to go (from Arizona, Minnesota and Wisconsin), before we send them all off to the respective consulates.

Be blessed in all you do.

(The picture has nothing to do with the day. Kia took it before we left for Colorado about three months ago. We are back living at this house for a few more weeks before we fly off to Costa Rica. Playing the guitar and singing is one thing I do to relax.)

As I sit and type this post, I am listening to the Bishop of the North Georgia Annual Conference read the new appointments for the coming year.  A lot of my friends and collegues in the ministry will be moving to new churches in a few days.  June 26th to be exact.  That’s the way it’s done in the United Methodist Church.  The Bishop and the cabinet (in a large sense, pastors for the pastors) prayerfully look at the needs and gifts of a congregation and the needs and gifts of a pastor and the pastor’s family and then put the best groups together.  As a United Methodist Pastor we are under appointment and we agree to go where we are sent, trusting and believe God wants us there. 

We know that, but it is not always the easiest thing to do.   It was a year ago that Bishop Davis read my name with the words “Missionary to Peru, The Mission Society” behind it.  I stood and was no longer the pastor of a single church.  It’s been a journey since then.  Not always easy, but a rewarding journey all the same. 

I pray for my brothers and sisters who are preparing to say goodbye and to make a new change in a new place for the glory of God. 

We spent all day today getting paperwork ready.   We leave for Costa Rica in about a month.  We excited, but we need to get ready. 

As American citizens we can enter the country as tourists for up to 90 days, but since we are going to be there for langauge school for longer than that, we have to get student visas.   The school is going to help us get these, but it requires a bit of groundwork before we leave.  

The biggest thing are the documents we have to get “authenticated.”  The whole process has to do with an international agreement made at The Hague many years ago to help protect countries as people pass from one place to another.  What it means is that we have gather official copies of our birth and marriage certificates along with background checks for Audra and I (notarized and the notary public verfied at a different office) together along with the obligatory money orders.  These are then sent to the Secretary of State in the state in which the documents originated (that means four different states for us).   The Secretary of State’s office will mark the documents as authentic and send them back to us in the enclosed Self Address Stamped Envelopes (SASE).  We then gather them together again and mail them (again with another obligatory money order) to the Costa Rican consulates which oversee the regions where the documents first originated (This, thankfully, is only three places for us:  Chicago, Los Angeles, and Atlanta).   The Consulates will then accept the documents and place a seal of some sort upon them and send them back to us (again in the enclosed SASE).  When we get these back, we put them all together and carry them with us to Costa Rica. 

I think we got everything done except for figuring out the right postage for the thick envelopes.  I’ll do that in the morning.

Tomorrow:  Vaccinations!  Yippee!  (According to Kia:  “Shots are eminent…ew!”) 

I like how a lot of the Spanish Bibles translate John 1.1. In English it goes something like, “In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God…” In Spanish there is a word for word (palabra), but most of the translations choose not to use that palabra…er, word. Instead, most of them use the word Verbo which means—you probably guessed it—verb. I like that. The word Jesus was talking about is, of course, Jesus. Jesus has was and is and is to come. He is the word made flesh. He is the word that God spoke and all came into creation. Word, though, can sound a bit static, not moving. Not active. Verbo (verb) is by definition a word of action. Jesus has come to make a difference in this world.

Today we went to church. As a family we went this morning. This afternoon, the kids decided to stay home and clean out a pantry while Audra and I went to a Spanish speaking service. In both places we heard not just the word of God proclaimed…we heard the verb of God.

At the service this morning, we heard a strong prophetic message about peace. We want peace on our terms, but are often not interested in finding peace on God’s terms. While expressing his strong love for the United States, he talked about the war and the dangers of seeking peace at the end of a gun. It’s happened that way for centuries, millennia, and probably longer. We are still waiting for peace. One line really stood out for me: “We [as Christians] believe in the resurrection, not an insurrection.” Those are very powerful words. Challenging words. The Verb of God met me there this morning. I have a lot more praying and thinking to do about what I am doing to bring about the peace of God into this world.

At the service this afternoon, we didn’t understand everything. The congregation and the pastor were wonderful and welcomed us with opened arms. (After the service we were even invited to stay for authentic Paella made by a woman from Spain along with another great rice dish with cilantro). For the first hour we sang songs of praise to God. The second hour was a proclamation of the Verb of God. We understood (entiendemos) the gist of the message, but following the service, a man summarized the message for us. It was about opening the doors of our hearts to God (abra los puertos de tu corazón) so that God can transform us. Again, the verb of God met us there. If we are in the area next week, we want to go back to that service.

Be blessed today and look for the Verb of God wherever you go.

Now that we are back in Georgia, we didn’t know where to go to church on Sunday.  We’ve spoken at so many different places that we have a lot of places we could call home when it comes to going to church.   Then again, there are still a lot of churches where we haven’t spoken…a lot of places who don’t know us.  In the end, we decided to go to a new church not far from where we are staying.  As we drove up, the parking lot was pretty empty.  The sanctuary was still more barren because Sunday School had not yet been let out.  Gradually people filed in and when worship began, around 25 others had joined us.  Small.  Intimate.  Where two or three are gathered in his name…is all we need.

Long story short, there was a small crowd and a guest musician.  After the service Audra went to talk to the musician (or he came to talk to her, I don’t know which way it went) and his sister who had come to pick him up.  They had grown up in Chile where their parents were missionaries.  While there, she met a man from Peru whom she later married.  The man (her husband) grew up in the city of Huancayo, where we are going.   He still has family there.   Maybe we can get connected with some of his family.  

Of all the churches in the community, we chose to go to that one.  Hmmm… God is funny at how God puts things together.

Be blessed today. 

When Kia was a baby, she would get on all fours and rock back and forth when it was time for bed.  That’s what we called her, “I’m not tired rock.”  She fought going to sleep because she knew she’d be missing something.

Her youngest sister is taking after her in this.  Soraya does not like to go to bed either.  Her face can be red and she is rubbing her eyes like crazy, but she doesn’t want to miss a single thing.  We’ve been traveling so much for her entire life, it has been very hard getting her on a schedule.  We’ve noticed she loves being around people and gets worried when she things she’s the only person in the room.  We’ll be somewhat stable for a few weeks here, and so we are going to try to help her through her bedtime and separation issues as much as we can. 

Tonight was the first night we put her in her crib/playpen so she could go to sleep on her own.  It is hard being a parent at times.  She screamed and cried until snot ran out of her nose.  She made us feel like the worst parents in the world, but we didn’t do all that bad…  We kept at it.  Comforting her every once in a while as she gradually calmed herself down.  She’s a smart kid (this, of course, from an unbiased source!).  She’ll learn.  So will we.  Again.    Right now, she’s asleep now next to the bed on which I am writing this entry.  Sweet.   Innocent.  Preparing for another day of blessing our lives…

We’ve been gone for two months, but we are back in Georgia for our final preparations before leaving the country.  A quick summary of the journey: 

• Early April:  Travel from Georgia to Colorado with a few quick stops on the way (at the Ice Cream Capital of the World and the American Gothic House).
• April through early May:  Training at Mission Training International in Palmer Lake, Colorado.  This three week program focused ont the spiritual, emotional and cultural issues of mission work. 
• Early-May:  During a week long break between our training, we traveled to Grand Junction, Colorado, to visit my brother and his family.
• Mid-May:  Two more weeks back at Mission Training International.  This time the focus was on langauge learning skills. 
• Late-May to Early June:  Caravaned with a friend from Mission Training International to Sioux Falls, SD (she had a meeting in southern Minnesota).  After saying our good-byes we drove to northern Minnesota to spend a week with Audra’s parents.   We ended that week speaking at Bemidji United Methodist Church before driving to Hibbing, MN, to see Audra’s oldest brother’s family for a night.
• Last few days:  Quick stop in Minneapolis area to visit one of Audra’s friends from high school and college.  Traveled to Normal, Illinois, to see another friend from college and to met her parents.  From there made it to Tennessee before calling it a night.  Made it to Georgia today.

Thanks for you prayers and all you do for the kingdom of God.

We left Audra’s parents hometown on Sunday after speaking at the local Methodist church, and drove east to the place where Audra spent much of her growing up years, Hibbing, MN. When her parents retired, her brother bought the old home place and moved in with his wife and four daughters. We had a quick visit, but it was good to catch up with the family before leaving the country. The following morning found us on the road again rolling toward Minneapolis. Audra’s best friend from high school and her husband live there. We hadn’t seen one another in years and had a lot of catching up to do. We did this at the table playing games until one in the morning. The next morning, we made a leisurely start before they invited us to the Mall of America (the at least one time largest mall in the nation). It is only about five minutes from their house. I’m not so excited about all the stores (except, the book stores), but the mall is so large it has an amusement park in the center. Last time we were there it was Camp Snoopy, but it has since been transformed into a Nickelodian themed park. With some coaxing, the kids ventured onto log rides into a pool of water, roller coasters and other adventures. Even Audra and I got into the action (a video will not be following). To top it all off, we were treated to a trashcan lid of barbecued ribs and chicken at Famous Dave’s. It was a great day.

After spending and evening and a day (until 4 PM) with old friends south of Minneapolis, MN, we headed east across the dark soil and farmlands of Wisconsin.