Twice a week I walk around the community talking to people about a certain theme.  It’s been really interesting learning about the culture this way (and practicing my Spanish), and my eyes have been opened a lot.  The past few themes have been about family, marriage and the culture of men and women here in Latin America.  The question of marriage was facinating because of the age and reasons behind marriage.  One man from Nicaragua told me it was very common for boys and girls around age 15 (mas o menos — more or less) to get married.  Not so much because they want to, but because they have to… she’s pregnant, he’s the dad, and her father has a gun and strict religious standards behind him.   Most of those marriages don’t last.  His didn’t.  She lives in Nicaragua with the kids while he works here in Costa Rica.   Most of the women on my route are divorced and they have a very pesimistic view of marriage and of men in general. 

Next week we will shift gears and talk about American politics.  A lot of my new friends here keep asking me about my opinions concerning our new president.  That discussion often leads to the issue of race.   That’s next week, though…

Last week I had yet another eye-opener.  A young man asked me about my feelings about the economy in the states.  We talked a bit and the conversation got around to salaries. 

“Is there a minimum salary here in the Costa Rica,” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s about… $400 a month” (He said this in English because he wants to practice with me).

“Is that for working full time?” I asked so I could compare it to the states minimum.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Is that 40 hours a week?”

“Well,” he said, “I work about 60 hours a week, but that’s not normal…usually.”

“What’s normal?”

“Eight hours a day for six days… 48 hours.”

“Okay,” I said, doing some quick math, “That’s about $2 an hour.”

“Yeah, mas o menos,” he said.  He knew it wasn’t much, but he seemed okay with it.

“The minimum wage in the states,” I said, “Is about $6.75… I think.”

A shocked look flashed across his face.  “Wow,” he said.  “That’s a lot!”

“Yeah,” I said, “But there’s more.  When I was a teenager, the minimum wage then was even less than the minimum wage here now… that was 20 some years ago.”

All he could do was laugh and shake his head.  It wasn’t a jolly, happy, belly-laugh.  I think I heard a moan mixed in with it.  I hadn’t thought about it that way.  I think now that when I buy things.  There was a commerical on TV the other day on a channel from the states advertising TGIFridays.  “New items on the menu starting at $5.99.” 

Not bad, I thought.  A bit high, but not bad… depending.   Then I thought about it.  A person getting minimum wage here would have to work for about three hours to buy the entree at the restaraunt… for one person.  If a family went out, he or she would have to work for a couple of days just to pay for diner.

I hadn’t thought about it that way.  That’s a new perspective…

Be blessed in who you are and in all you do.

Our pastor called yesterday morning around 9 am.  We’d just gotten back from the feria and were washing, cutting and putting away the fresh fruit and vegetables we’d gotten. 

“Buenas Dias, Ash,” he said to me over the phone, “¿Quieres predicar mañana?” (Would you like to preach tomorrow?)

Me being who I am, of course, I said sí. 

“Siempre listo,” he said to me.  Always ready.

That’s a good thing to remember.  We have friends who are missionaries here in Latin America who tell us it is not uncommon.  When a missionary shows up to church, he or she is asked to preach. 

I spent a good part of yesterday praying and preparing a message in Spanish (I didn’t write it in English first and then try to translate it.  I think the translated Spanish would be too unnatural sounding).  It was difficult because now I have 14 verb conjugations to think about, other parts of proper grammar, culture, sound theology, and such to think about as I wrote.  The text is from Mark 4 and the parabol of the sower.  I’ll be talking about how important it is for us to sow the seeds of God’s word and God’s love, but that we have to be careful where we fling it.  Some will fall on the hard soil beside the road, others among the rocks, others among the weeds, and still others (hopefully the majority) will fall in good soil. 

Last time I spoke for about an hour.  This time I’m shooting for a bit less than that.  But you know me, I do like to talk…

 Please pray for me this morning.

Be blessed in all you do.

This morning as we were getting ready to go to the feria (Saturday farmer’s market), a transformer blew.  I just happened to be looking out the front door at the time and it just happened to be about 20 feet from the house so 1) it was very loud, 2) I saw a flash of light, and 3) we could see the smoke blowing by in the wind.  It wasn’t on fire, but our electricty was out.  (I was glad Audra and I had already taken a shower–the water heater is electric.) 

Being who I am, I got the keys, opened the two gates to get to the street and looked around to see what I could see.  In the end I discovered I couldn’t see anything different than normal.  In fact, I felt kind of strange looking for something.  The rest of the neighborhood didn’t seem to care.  A man came casually out of the corner store carrying a loaf of bread he’d bought.  A woman walked in the park with her small daughter.  A boy sat on the curb down the street waiting for the bus to come by.  I was the only person looking for the source of a very loud boom, spark and smoke. 

Seeing nothing, I went back in and got ready to go to the market.  What was I thinking..?

Be blessed in your surprises today!

School has started again.  That means getting on a regular schedule of waking up, getting ready, walking to school, learning our lessons, coming home, studying, going to bed and getting ready to do it all over again.  It is exhausting work learning a langauge, but vale la pena (lit., value the pain, sorrows, punishment, etc), it’s worth it.  We are learning to speak the langauge. 

I am doing a different type of class this term.  Every day I still have two hours of grammar class (can I hear a “yippee!” from everyone).  The teacher is great, so it’s not bad…  In addition to grammar, though, I enrolled in FARO.  The word faro in Spanish means beacon or lighthouse.   The letters for our class stand for something else, though, and what is boils down to is that I have to find seven to ten people in the community to practice my spanish with at least twice every week.  Each week I also meet one-on-one with my teacher to talk about what I have done and what I have learned. 

It has been a very good experience for me.  I don’t like asking for help, but when it comes to asking people to talk with me… no problemo!   On my route I have between eight and ten people who are older and younger, men and women, from a variety of religious backgrounds.  Last week we talked about family.  This week, we chatted (charlamos) about marriage (el matrimonio).  This weekend I’ll have to put together what I learned into a written report to my teacher.  At one of the places, I talked for an hour starting with marriage and then moving into religion and faith.  The next place was another hour as well.  He knows some English and wants to practice.  It amazes me how much we don’t think about our own language.  He looked at me and said, “One word that I have trouble with is trip.  It’s so complex and confusing.”

Confusing? thought I.  No way.  “A trip,” I started, “is when…”  Then I started thinking about it.  How does one explain when to use the word trip instead of journey or vacation.  And why is it that when you stumble over something that you also trip? 

Another person on my route is in a reggae roots band from here in Costa Rica.  I listened to some songs on the website and they are really good.   The name of their band is Talawa.  It somes from a phrase in a Jamacian langauge that is something like “we are small, but mighty.” (Talawa is the mighty part).    What’s ironic about their name is the fact that the last place we pastored a church in Georgia was Ball Ground.  The Cherokee name for Ball Ground is Taliwa.   I love it when things seem (at least) to come full circle. 

Be blessed in your conversations today…

Went to church this morning.  A good thing to do, I suppose, on a Sunday morning, isn’t it?  We’ve learned over the past few months that Latin American worship is different than the typical worship service in the states.  For one thing, the service lasts for at least two hours.  The first hour is praise and worship with song and prayer.  The second hour is preaching, sacraments like communion (if any), and the offering.  We’ve gotten used to it.  We like it… most of the time.

Today we went expecting to hear something about the earthquake.  We did.  It wasn’t until after the message, though.  Pastor Raul talked about the grace of God and the mercy of God (which he defined as “receiving from God that which we don’t deserve” through grace) and how this is a year of miracles and blessing.  It started out rough with the earthquake, but God is still in control, he told us. 

When he finished, a man stood up and talked about a friend of his from the region most hurt from the movement of the earth.  He’s doing okay, he said, considering everything…

We then celebrated the Lord’s supper (communion) before receiving the offering.  As the ushers were getting the baskets, Pastor Raul said, this offering is important… half of it will go to buy powdered milk and other things that the victims of the earthquake need. 

Wow!  Can you imagine if a pastor in the states said that without consulting with the finance commitee and looking at the budget and making the necessary adjustments first?  Half of the offering…whatever it was… would go to help the victims of the quake. 

We gave generously as a congregation.  I don’t know how much, but it was a lot.  Before we said our prayers, however, Pastor Raul spoke again:  “Because I know the heart of this church,” he said, “all of the offering will go to those who need it who have been affected by the quakes.”

What a blessing it is to be a part of a family of faith here who are so willing to step out in faith.  This Sunday’s offering will bring nothing to the annual budget.  It will not pay for lights or curriculum or lawn care.  At least not for us.  That doesn’t matter.  The congregation believes God will be faithful and the budget will be met. 

Wow!  That’s all I can say… wow!

Be blessed in all you do…

Had an eye opener this morning.  The earthquake was yesterday.  A few places around town here have danger tape from the police.  I don’t know if its from the quake or something else.

Heard this morning that this was the strongest earthquake in the San Jose area in more than 150 years. 

Heard this morning that more than 40 people are dead and more are expected.

Heard this morning that hundreds are stranded in the mountains because of road damage.

Heard this morning a major landslide killed some people at the La Paz waterfalls (La Paz means The Peace).  We were at the park with other missionaries from The Mission Society just a few days ago.   Three days. 

Please pray for the people of this region of Costa Rica.  Here at the house and in our community things are pretty much normal.  I know that less than 30 miles away the story is very different.

Be blessed in who you are and be a blessing in all you do.

We’ve been hearing for a long time that it would happen.  We are in a siesmic zone, after all.  We had one in the middle of the night a few months ago, but most of us slept through it. 

Today was different, though.  We know what an earthquake feels like.  Kia and I were downtown San Jose with some friends on our team from Peru (the Drums) and one who is heading to Peru after us (Louise).  They were in town for our regional conference and stayed over a few extra days.  Audra was home with Aylis’, Todd, and Soraya, along with the Drum’s daughter and our empleada, Rocio. 

At 1.21 this afternoon Billy, Kia and I had just crossed an intersection in the pedestrian zone walking to a place for lunch.  Audra, Todd and Sara were in the park playing.  Aylis’ and Rocio were in the house.  The ground shook.  Rose.  Undulated.  Fell.  It waved and wobbled.  We could hear the sounds of moving glass (not breaking where we were) and metal and stone.  In a few minutes it was over.

A local man near us said they’d had not had an earthquake that strong since the 1990s.  People gathered on the streets trying to call loved ones.   We collected around TVs (all of them tuned to the news) to see what we could learn.  Gradually it came in… centered near Poas (an active volcano nearby)… 6.2 on the Richter Scale… a lot of damage in Alejuela (near the airport)… two fatalities… homes destroyed…

When I got home, I found the latitude and longitude of the epicenter (if you want official information on the quake, click on the globe above).  It was only 23 miles from our house and only 8.7 miles deep.  No wonder we felt it.  We’re fine, though.  Please pray for those who are hurting.  Those who have lost loved ones.  Those who have lost their homes. 

Be blessed in all you do.

We are on retreat this week.  It worked out well for us.  The Mission Society is having our regional retreat here in the mountains above San Jose so we didn’t have to travel very far.  The view is outstanding from here.  On one side of the mountain ridge where the retreat center is located, we can look out over the lights and streets and homes and businesses of the San Jose community.  Over the other edge we can see a beautiful valley with coffee fields and small houses and villages.  It’s a neat place to be.  

We didn’t travel very far–just a short bus ride.  There are others who have traveled from all over Latin America, the United States.  There is one family on furlough from Ghana, West Africa, and another from Kazakhstan in central Asia.   Last night we prayed for the nine nations represented here (Brazil, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Ghana, Mexico, Nicaragua, Paraguay, Peru, and the United States) as well as the Global Resource Team (missionaries who are willing to go wherever in the world their specific skills are needed for a few months at a time). 

This has been a good time for me.  We start each day with a Bible study on the book of Colossians.  We then are taught by the Christian Cultural Anthropologist on staff, Dr. Darrel Whiteman, about mission issues.  This time the focus has been on the unhealthy practice of creating dependency (that is, creating a situation in which the country to which we go depends on outside missionaries to provide skills, resources, technology, etc.).  This is an old model of missions that does more harm than good.  It’s a model, however, that many missionaries find themselves caught inside.  We are doing all we can to break free of this and to empower the local communities. 

What has been really great for me is being with 80 other missionaries who share the same philosophy about how we are supposed to be reaching out around the world with the love of Jesus Christ.  It has been refreshing.  Please be in prayer for all of us…

 Be blessed…

It’s here!  Can you believe it!  Now for the next three months we have to learn to write 2009 instead of 2008 when we are writing the date.  (This will be fun because for some unknown reason I sometimes write 1992 on checks and other things… no, it is not senility…)  Anyway…

¡Feliz Año Nuevo!  Happy new year!  May you be blessed and be a blessing in all you do and say! 

The fireworks were amazing last night.  Starting with little pops and whistles at about seven or so, they continued to a climax at midnight.  Flashes of red, green, blue and white lighting up the sky.  Loud bangs setting off car alarms.  We tried to take pictures, but it’s hard.  We did post a few videos to youtube to get you an idea of what it was like.  It is nothing like actually being here… but it’ll give you a little bit of an idea.  Click on one of the pictures to see one of the videos.  Click the other to see the other.  

All the fireworks, by the way, are shot off by private individuals.  As far as we know not a single spark was lit by a professional fireworks shooter offer person (it’s early… I was up late… I can’t think of the right word!)

Yesterday we took a trip as a family.  Hopping on the bus in San Jose, we rode for about an hour until we reached the city of Cartago.  Another bus brought us to Lankester Gardens, a 37 acre respite from the busy city.  It was founded by a young man from Britain nearly a century ago to raise orchids and to preserve at least a part of the shrinking forests of Costa Rica.   We enjoyed the gardens and hope to return when the flowers are more at their peak (sometime between January and May). 

After our visit to the gardens, we returned by bus to Cartago.  Becuase Soraya was in the backpack I stood.  So did the rest of the family.  The driver kept stopping and telling us to move to the back so he could pack more on.  We didn’t know how long we’d make it, but thankfully the city wasn’t far.  There we made our way to the large basilica in the city.  Because of earthquakes that are common in the area, it is a fairly new building, but that doesn’t diminish it’s grandness and it’s beauty.  A large open plaza with people and pigeons.  Venders selling their wares.  Children trying to earn a few colones (cents) by selling rosaries of various makes, models and sizes. 

Entering the basilica a peaceful calm surrounded us.  It was a holy place.  We could not deny that.  Audra and I had visited many cathedrals and churches in Germany a number of years ago.  In some we were nearly alone.  In Cartago, however, it was a very different story.  People filled the center aisle.  Starting at the back, they fell to their knees and slowly walked (on their knees) the length of the church to the altar.  There they prayed in front of a small statue…la negrita…the black madonna.  Behind the church, numbers of other devout catholics filled bottles at a spring.  The water, we were told by a woman carrying a bottle after we asked her, was thought to having healing properties.  “By faith,” she said at least twice to let us know it wasn’t the water that healed them…it was the faith. 

Legend says back in the 1600s a young woman was walking in the woods that then stood where the basilica now stands.  There she found this black madonna holding the child Jesus.  Carrying it to the local priest, he put it in the local church.  The next day it was back in the woods where she’d found it.  It happened a number of times and so it was thought that God wanted a basilica built on the spot.

We left feeling moved as we left.  On the one hand it was a holy place and the devotion we saw was immense.  How many people do we know from our past who would be willing to crawl on their knees to the front of the church (a big church) to pray at the altar?  Many people won’t even come forward to just pray at the altar.  On the other hand, we had to ask ourselves:  was the devotion directed toward God and Jesus and the Holy Spirt?  or was it directed toward the little black statue?  How many of those washing in the water from the spring believing they can be healed by faith (as the woman with whom we spoke)?  How many of them believe the healing power is coming from the water itself? 

We can’t make any decisions about it right now.  We don’t have enough information.  We need to talk with people.  We need to try to understand what they are thinking about. 

That is one of the major challenges we have before us:  not jumping to conclusions before taking the time and effort to ask questions, get uncomfortable and learn. 

Please pray for us. 

Be blessed in all you do…