Don't Tell My Left Hand...

So... I've always had a trouble deciding where the line is between not letting my left hand know what my right hand is doing (Mt. 6:3) and helping others be encouraged and able to overcome by sharing my testimony (Rev. 12:11).

When God allows me to be a part of blessing someone else, I'm never sure how much of that stuff to tell others about. Or, more accurately, I'm not really sure how to tell others in a way that truly glorifies Him without making it seem like it's just a little about me.

Because it's not about me. Not at all. At least, to me it's not about me. And, I don't want it to be about me to anyone else. But, I do really, really, really want to share the wonderful things I've been seeing God do for the people around me.

So - here goes. I'll be typing with mostly my right hand, so please don't tell my left hand what all I've had to say. Remember - this is not about me. If anything, I'd like this blog post to make you think about God in His infinite love and mercy, but also about YOU - and the role you have to play in helping people come to know Him.

For several weeks an amazing, awesome, rag-tag group of people from my town have been allowing me to accompany them to Omaha to serve food and hand out warm clothes to the men at a homeless shelter. This is, really, my first experience with homeless people. (I'm a little embarrassed to admit that.)

My first day I was pretty jumpy, and I didn't know what to expect. I mean, I was pouring syrup and doling out peanut butter onto warm pancakes from behind a table, so it's not like I was exactly getting up-close-and-personal or anything. Still - every loud interaction, every brusque tone, every sideways glance kind of set me on edge. I'm ashamed to say it, but I was honestly anticipating a knife fight to break out between two strung out bums at any moment.

(Yes - I'm cringing just as much as you are that I really thought that.)

What I have discovered over these past many weeks, however, is that these guys are just, well... guys. They're just people. Some of them are rude and cranky. A few are even openly hostile (for a myriad of reasons). But, for the most part, they're just people like you and me. They can't help but return a smile or a hug when one is offered. They say, 'please' and 'thank you'. They've usually got a funny joke or story to tell, and they're grateful when you take the time to care about them.

Oh, and they're hungry for the Lord.

I don't care whether someone lives in the biggest house in town, or in a tent by the railroad tracks - they were created in God's image. And, as such, there is something in them that longs to know their creator.

Usually, I'm just the lady behind the table with the funny hat. (See the pictures below if you don't believe me.) But, today, we got the chance to go inside the building and hang out with the guys at the day house. Because of the crowding due to the cold temperatures, it was (quite literally) an opportunity to rub shoulders with these men. I didn't really know anyone's names, but I had come to recognize a lot of faces over the weeks. Apparently they recognized my face too, and the fact that I had offered them smiles, syrup, and the occasional, 'God bless you.'

Those things alone would never have been enough to forge a relationship that transcended all of our vast differences in order to build trust and a level of intimacy between us. But, combined with the burning desire inside their souls to know God, it was sufficient.

It started with one man who came to me, a bit shyly, and quietly said, "I have a question..."

He showed me a page from a religious magazine, stating that after Jesus ascended He was a spiritual being in Heaven.

"So, does that mean He wasn't really human?" the man asked, his head cocked and eyebrows raised.

We talked quietly, amid the chaos and crowds, about the fact that Jesus is seated in Heaven with God as a spirit, but that He truly was 100% human while on Earth, and really did know the realities of life as a person - just like us. This seemed to be an important point to this homeless man - a way to connect with an otherwise unrelatable God.

He had no more than turned away when someone else tapped me on the shoulder, and began the same way:

"I have a question..."

As I walked the ten feet or so between the table I had been standing at and the door, I was stopped by several men today, each of them with a different question about God. I could tell that others were listening intently, curious about I had to say.

One man had been to Bible college briefly, and his eyes lit up at the chance to discuss the scriptures- clearly a topic near and dear to his heart. I found out that he didn't have a Bible, and I offered him one of the Gideon New Testaments that I always keep with me. From all the way at the other end of the eight-foot table, another man - who I didn't even know had been listening - quietly asked if he could have one too.

Not everyone was eager to talk about Jesus, of course. Most of them were more concerned with finding a seat in the crowded room or getting a hold of the classified ads from the paper. One gentleman was even hostile to me - vehemently telling me that as a Muslim he didn't believe in my Jesus. How could someone be God, and let other people kill him? To him, the story made no sense. Yet, before I left, he grabbed my hand, told me he could tell I was a woman of God, and allowed me to give him the last copy of my New Testament, promising he'd look it over so we could continue the conversation next time I was there.

There were other men with questions, I could tell, but our group was leaving, so I headed out to the bitterly-cold courtyard area to help load the vans. I stopped for a moment to watch a homeless man dole out little bits of a piece of bread he'd been given to the birds. As I stood there, I suddenly felt someone at my shoulder.

"I bet you wonder why he's doing that, don't you?" He asked. I didn't recognize him - neither from the pancake lines in weeks past, nor from any conversations I'd had that day.

"Actually, I was just thinking about what a beautiful act of mercy it was for that man to feed the birds, when he himself has so little," I replied.

There was silence for a moment, and I turned to look at the man beside me.

He was sober, and swallowed hard before he spoke.

"I don't know why, but I feel like I'm supposed to come and talk to you," he said. All of the typical toughness and posturing that is so necessary for survival as a homeless person dropped away, and he became very, very vulnerable.

"Well, what do you think we're supposed to talk about?" I asked. (Yes - I know... it probably wasn't the best response, but it's what came to me. Maybe I'll do better next time.)

He swallowed again, and rubbed the toe of his worn boot against the ice in the courtyard.

"About the fact that Jesus loves me."

So that's what we talked about.

I told him that Jesus did love him, and asked if I could pray with him.

After I had finished, he thanked me, and wiped the tears away that had begun to freeze on his cheek.

(I told you it was cold out there. That, and I'm prone to long prayers.)

I had always believed - until recently - that it was wrong to 'push' my religion on others. That everyone had already had the chance to make an informed decision about their beliefs. That people didn't really want to hear about Jesus. Today was yet another reminder of just how untrue that is, and just how much God's creation will always yearn to know about Him.

The question is - will there be anyone there to tell them?

Look - I don't know everything there is to know about theology. I don't know all the answers to all of life's hard questions. And, I'm not perfect. No one is. (Except Jesus, of course.) But, because I was there today - just because I showed up - other people had a chance to get to know a little bit more about their savior and their creator.

God is that big - that He can work through people like me. I know He can work through you, too, and I challenge you to start being there in your own life.

Being there for your friends
Being there for your neighbors.
Being there for your family
Being there for your co-workers
Being there for the people in the biggest house in town.
Being there for the people living in tents by the railroad tracks.
Being there for the lovely.
Being there for the unlovely.

But, most of all - just being there, wherever God asks you to be.

Like what you've read? Want to learn more? Check out our website, or go here to make a tax-deductible contribution to our ministry. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)

If you're interested in contributing to the wonderful things this group of folks is doing for the homeless in Omaha, send me an email at farriersoffaith@yahoo.com. 

This is someone's home.

(I told you I wear a funny hat.)

We are a motley but dedicated crew. It was 2 degrees F this morning.

I am amazed at how many of these men have severe illnesses, diseases, and disabilities.

This facility is at more than 150% capacity, and still not able to serve all those in need.

One of our crew pets 'Handsome' a loyal companion to the folks who live down by the river.

 

 

Visitors From Guatemala! :)

This has been a really good month for the Farriers of Faith (that's us).

Some days it's hard to feel connected to this place, since we're so excited to get to Guatemala and do all the great things that God has planned for us.

More often, though, it's hard to feel connected to Guatemala, since it's so far away, and there is so much 'unknown' there.

One of the things that has really encouraged us and helped us feel plugged in with both places at the same time (a challenging feat, let me assure you!) is that we got to visit with three of the people with whom Mark will be working closely once we get there.

A few weeks ago, we got to have French Silk Pie (a blessing straight from heaven) with Dick and Sharon Mueller (ditto) at our house. These guys are incredible! They've been in Guatemala 30 years now, and started a Bible college that recently graduated almost 100 students from its degree program. They are as rock-solid as can be when it comes to walking by faith, and we are incredibly blessed to be able to intern with them. (Better than winning a big lottery any day. Seriously - we're that excited.)

Sharon and Dick Mueller with our Pastor, Michael Kalstrup

 Just yesterday, we had David Mann over for chili, homemade bread, cobbler, and some excellent conversation. (Doctrine, church history, parenting, American politics... all the good stuff.) He also works with Dick at the college, and we spent the most time with him when we were in Guatemala in February. It was so much fun to be around him for those 5 days, and we were relieved to find out that his easy-going manner and sense of humor weren't just part of his 'tour guide' persona. As far as we can tell, he's really, truly that cool all the time!  (I bet his wife and kids would even say the same thing.)

David Mann bringing the message at our church

Between those two visits, we feel like a lot of our practical questions have been answered (yes, you can flush the toilet paper [sometimes]), our fears allayed (we won't just disappear, never to be heard from again, once we drive into Mexico), and our excitement level has been boosted even higher (I honestly burst into spontaneous, exuberant song sometimes).

So, besides just raising the roof in singing the praises of our amazing God, we're also still looking to raise some support. (See what I did there?)

Seriously, though - God has put it on my hear to be bold and seek out 10 people/groups to commit to supporting us at $50 (or more) each month, beginning in January. 

We know our partners are out there. Are you one of them? Something to pray about...

If you want to know more, check out our website. If you'd like to donate, it's easy and safe to do online, or by mail. (Plus, it's tax deductible!) Just head over to our servicing agency's website for instructions.

If you have questions, fundraising ideas, would like to know more about how to host a missionary reception, want us to come speak to your group/church, or anything else, you can always email us at farriersoffaith@yahoo.com.

We truly would love to hear from you! Thanks for joining us on our journey thus far. We can't wait to see where we'll all end up together tomorrow!

akf

Called

You will always have the poor with you. And whenever you want to, you can give to them. But you won’t always have me here with you.                         --Mark 14:7

When I went to Guatemala last February, I was not at all 'mission-minded.'  I went mostly out of curiosity, because the Holy Spirit was leading me to go, and because I wanted to make my wife happy. (I knew she was starting to feel a leading toward missions, but I had no idea how strong it was.)

When I got down there I was overwhelmed at the need. But, honestly, it was something else that really grabbed me.  Even with all the poverty, and all the futility - people seemed happy.

This was quite a mind trip for a person who grew up believing in the American Dream.  It really struck me while I was standing on the roof of a church, in the dark, watching kids playing and families talking on their roof across from us.  The idea that these people are different - different culture, language, economy, opportunities - it all faded away. What was left was just people. And, though they were different, they really were people, just like me.

And that was the start.  After that it became easy to see one very important thing: I am not called to change these people’s lives by Americanizing them. I am called to give them the promise of Christ.  While it is true there is mass poverty, trash everywhere, unsafe conditions - all of that is good to work on - what they most need is Christ.

You may be reading this and saying “duh, of course it is about Christ. If that's you, then I challenge you to go on a mission trip, to open up to the Holy Spirit when you are there, and see how it changes your perspective.  If you are honest, I bet you will find out that a lot of what you believe to be your Christian values are really American values.

Christ is what is needed to change lives, communities, towns, cities, and countries. What purpose would it serve to comfort someone here on earth, but let them suffer after they leave this earth?

That is not to say helping people is wrong. One of the overwhelming things that hit me was how much we could do for the people in Guatemala to help their physical needs. Because of the prosperity of this country, we have money and opportunities. We are much less afraid of failure. Think about it - we get experience building things, because a lot of time if we fail we can go buy the stuff to try it again.  That is a very different reality from a person who has one chance to build something. If they fail they have nothing else to try it with. There is no second chance. (And, that's assuming they had the resources to build it to begin with.)

So, yes - we are going down to bring an amount of comfort to the people we can reach, in whatever form we can.  But, that can never overwhelm the fact that we are there to bring Christ to people. After all - He's the one thing that is universally and eternally important.

- Mark

Like what you've read? Want to learn more? Check out our website, or go here to make a tax-deductible contribution to our ministry. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)

Reward

I've been a born-again Christian since June 8th of 1988. That's when I knelt down and accepted Jesus into my heart.

I did so because that's when I became aware of His great love.
His great love for ME!

That's when I became aware of the gift that is salvation.
A gift He he had created for ME!

That's when I realized that He had a plan for my life.

That's right - the creator of the universe had a plan for ME!

Those are all the reasons I became a Christian. But, it's only been recently that I realized that there's much more to the equation than just that. Yes, He had all those things for me. And He gave them freely.
But, He also wanted more from ME.

More accurately (lest anyone think that our works are what get us into heaven, or that God wants to engage us in the drudgery of spiritual slavery in exchange for our salvation), Jesus wanted ME to want more for HIS sake.

I believe it is profoundly healing and healthy to accept the realization that if I would have been the only one who needed it, Christ would have climbed up onto that cross anyway. Just.For.Me.

That's how much He loves me. I am what He did it for. I am what He was thinking about that day. I am what He longs for. In fact, I am the reward for his suffering.

Think about that - there was no other prize at the end of the cross, resurrection, and ascension except for me. (Well, ok... there was eternity with the Father in heaven, but He already had that.) No brass ring. No pot of gold. No winning lottery ticket. Just me. Just you. Just humanity.

I am entirely and completely and utterly undeserving of the gift of salvation. I pray that it never ceases to bring me to tears when I consider what Jesus did for me.

But, He is deserving. Entirely, completely, and utterly deserving of my love. Of my adoration. Of me. And of you. And of all of humanity, which is all that He longs for.

When I feel shy or uncomfortable, and would rather pass on sharing the gospel with a stranger...
            When I start feeling content with my accomplishments and resentful of having to do more...
                         When I feel discouraged or tired, and am ready to give up on this whole 'missionary' thing...
                       

That's when I remember my Jesus - peering down to Earth - loving each and every person I come into contact with just as much as He loves me.

Desiring to give them the free gift of salvation, just as He desired to give it me.

Longing for each person to be a part of His eternal reward, just as He longed for me to be a part of His eternal reward.

How can I not share the gospel with strangers? How can I not go the extra mile for His sake? How can I not go to Guatemala to tell the people there about Jesus?

It is not about me, and what I have gained. It is about HIM, and the fullness of His reward that He will lose if I choose to give less than everything for His cause.

He deserves the full reward for His suffering.
He deserves an eternity with every person He died for.
He deserves them all...

And it must become my highest goal and privilege to see that He gets everything He suffered for... everything He died for... everything He deserves.

Like what you've read? Want to learn more? Check out our website, or go here to make a tax-deductible contribution to our ministry. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)

What Am I Sacrificing?

Today's post comes from my hubby, who shares his thoughts and perspectives on preparing to leave for Guatemala.

Eleven years ago I was working as a custodian at the University of Iowa. It was a good job, especially for someone without a college degree. Many of the  people I worked with were good people - family people, even some married couples who worked together.  But, I am old fashioned, and wanted more. I wanted a job where I had more responsibility, and I wanted to make enough that my wife wouldn't have to work if she didn't want to

In 2003 I took a job with the City of Wellman.  The main reason was to get more experience in other fields, and to find a career and be able to support my family.  I found, as soon as I started, that I liked the water and wastewater industries.  I worked hard and started pursuing professional licenses.  I got a new job with the City of North Liberty, and then with the City of Atlantic.

Through hard work, and many blessings and opportunities, I progressed rapidly.  In ten years I went from someone who had never even heard of wastewater as a career (I grew up in the country with a septic tank) to running a grade 3 plant with five employees.  I am on a state sub-committee of a national organization (IAWEA) that helps operators get training and work with state and federal government in writing rules for wastewater issues.

In less than a year I will be eligible to take the grade 4 wastewater exam. This is the highest license you can get in most of the country.  Only 7% of operators in the state  of Iowa are grade 4s.   With the higher age of grade 4 operators, and most of them getting ready to retire, the job market is going to open up for people who have supervisor experience and a grade 4 license. That means I could be running a major wastewater facility in just a few short years, and working my way up through IAWEA.  I have come to the place where I am established as a professional in my field.

More than that, I am making really good money doing something I enjoy, and my wife does not have to work outside the home. I am completely supporting my family - something I once thought would be impossible.

I am giving that all up, though, because I am called to get God's word to the people of Guatemala.  I am going, at the minimum, to have to put my career on hold for 2 years.  I have already told the subcommittee I am on that I will be resigning next spring.   I am going to be losing out on getting more managerial experience, which may be handy if I were to pursue another job in this career.  I have only been at this job for two years,  which also doesn't look great on a resume when you apply for a job.

The hardest for me is that Andrea will no longer be home with the girls. She is going to be teaching at a Christian school in Guatemala. And, even though she is excited about the opportunity to serve, I think her first choice would be to get to continue staying home.

I have also been able to support myself my whole adult life. Now we are going to have to  rely on friends and family to support us - something that is very uncomfortable for me.  I know mentally that it is not begging,or a free handout. We will be working harder than we ever have before.  But, it is still difficult to keep in my mind that these are people who are supporting us because they want to, and they share our vision.


So, what am I sacrificing to follow God's call on my life?

• a great job (doing something I love)
• being able to fully support my wife and children
• a career path that puts me on the fast track to making more money
• getting respect from peers
• setting up a great retirement 
• living in the United States (which, even with all its problems, is still the best place in the world
• being a long way from everybody I love and care about except my wife and kids

With all these negatives why I am I still going to follow through and move to Guatemala?  Because I went and saw. I got called. I know I could never be happy here knowing I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing for Jesus.  To me I do not really have a choice. Why? Here's why:

Mark 8:34-38 NKJV
[34] When He had called the people to Himself, with His disciples also, He said to them, "Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. [35] For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel's will save it. [36] For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? [37] Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? [38] For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him the Son of Man also will be ashamed when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels."

- Mark

Like what you've read? Want to learn more? Check out our website, or go here to contribute to our ministry. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)

Double Lives

Photo Credit:
 http://knicknacker.com/
alter-ego-superhero-posters
-danny-haas/

Sometimes it feels like we're living double lives right now.

By day, we're the happy, successful, all-American family next door - going to work, doing our schooling, and keeping up on our favorite shows on TV. By night, we're missionaries trying hard to raise enough funds to get our boots on the ground in a poverty-stricken, dirty, second-world country.

It can be a challenge. Especially since we don't have the option of being only one or the other at a time.

The emotional realities of these two lives are very different. Here, we are allowed (even encouraged) by society to take advantage of the luxuries that are available to us as a reward for our hard work. Even with a very modest lifestyle and budget, we have access to all the food, clothing, entertainment, and comforts that anyone could ever wish for. But, we're also missionaries, preparing to live with less, and on less. We have seen the other side of the coin, and will soon have to stop catering to our mere 'wants' and be grateful to simply be able to meet our true 'needs.' We often find ourselves wondering, 'should we be starting that now?'

I also have a hard time not letting the emotions I feel from one life spill into the way I think about the other.

When I've had a frustrating or discouraging day as American homeschooling wife and mom, it's hard not to also feel frustrated or discouraged about our progress and preparation for our mission work.

Literally, I've had times when I've been bummed about burning dinner, and let that make me doubt (just for a second) the calling to missions God put on our lives.

It's silly, I know, but that's how the fiery darts of the enemy work. And, while our situation is different from most, I bet you can relate. We're all, in one way or another, leading double lives.

Father and breadwinner.
Wife and daughter.
In the world, but not of it.

That's why I'm so glad I have Jesus. He knows what I'm going through. He was both beloved, and despised. He was needed, but rejected. He was God, but He was man.

He gets it.

He knows my struggles and challenges. He rejoices with me and because of me. He will never leave me, nor forsake me... neither the happy, successful, all-American me, nor the missionary me raising funds and preparing to move to Guatemala.

And if that's not enough to make a person double happy, then nothing is.

Like what you've read? Want to learn more? Check out our website, or go here to contribute to our ministry. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)

Poverty

This is a really hard subject for me to talk about - poverty. Which is too bad, 'cause it's kind of a big part of telling people about what we're planning on doing in Guatemala.

In one way, it's hard to talk about it to friends, family, churches, small groups, etc..., since the American understanding of poverty is a little bit, well, skewed. It's one of those things that everyone thinks they know when they see it, but can't really describe. In the U.S. we have a 'poverty line,' 'poverty guidelines,' and 'poverty thresholds' - all used in different ways, by different agencies, with different purposes. Even after reading extensively on the Health and Human Services webpage, I'm not 100% sure what any of these things really mean. In our prosperous nation, they're really just a statistical measurement of who has the least as compared to everyone else, and not necessarily a way of determining if someone truly has enough - enough to put food on the table, clothes on their backs, and a roof over their heads.

Yes. There are desperately poor people in our country who literally struggle each day to find the resources it takes to sustain their very lives. But, very few. Especially in comparison to the rest of the world. I can't find any actual figures on this subject, to be honest. When I try to find data on those living in poverty in the U.S., I come up with articles like this, which use Census Data figures to give a picture of what poverty in our country looks like.

80.9% of those living in 'poverty' here have both a land line phone, and a cell phone

96.1% have a t.v.

83% have some sort of DVR

(Seriously!? What the heck!? I just got a DVR for the first time last year!!)

It's no wonder people's eyes glaze over a little when I start telling them about the poverty in Guatemala. It's hard to understand what that means, in light of our own examples in the United States.

Maybe this will help. The World Bank uses the term 'Extreme Poverty' to describe people living on less than the equivalent of $1.25 per day. I'm going to venture a guess and say that there is something like .1% of the U.S. population that lives in such extreme poverty. Maybe.

In Guatemala, it's 13.5%.
In the Congo, it's over 87%.

Worldwide, there are an estimated 1.2 billion people in extreme poverty.
That's 20%.
Of the people in the world.
Who live on less than $1.25 per day.

Wow.

But, here's the kicker - it's not about the poverty. At least, not the money part. We aren't going to evangelize in Guatemala because they're living in poverty there. We're going because they need Jesus. The fact that they also need food, clothes, and shelter (which we can help give them) provides an open door to give the most needed, the most important, and the most lasting thing at the same time - salvation.

Remember - the only way we're going to be able to help with those living in the poverty-stricken nation of Guatemala, is because of the generosity of those living in the prosperity-driven nation of the United States.

Please pray about contributing to our mission. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)

Please take a moment to thank God for your own financial wealth, especially in light of the fact that so many in the world have so much less.

Please work in your own neighborhoods, schools, workplaces, communities, homes, and churches to end the most dangerous type of poverty of all - spiritual poverty, and the absence of salvation through Jesus Christ.

That's a poverty that no one can afford to have.

Rich and poor have this in common:
    The Lord is the Maker of them all.

- Proverbs 22:2

About the Money Thing....

We're getting ready to walk away from careers. A home. Friends. Family. Normalcy. We're getting ready to walk away from pretty much everything we've ever known, in order move to Guatemala to share the gospel and the love of Christ. Want to know what the hardest part of that is for us?

The money part.

Sounds silly, maybe, but it's true. You see, we've always been the 'go to work, pay your bills on time, live within your means' kind of people. We've had some lean years. We've had some less lean years. But, through it all, we always had the underlying sense of satisfaction that comes from working hard and reaping the reward of that hard work.

We won't have that in Guatemala.

It is humbling beyond what words can tell to think about living a life depending on other people's financial support. Humbling, and (quite frankly) scary. It is very easy to get caught up in a whirlwind of doubt and worry - obsessing over whether or not there will be enough money for us to do what we need to do.

Which is silly.

Our God is a big, big God. He's so big He even sees and takes care of sparrows. And grass. And the lilies of the field. I know He will take care of us when we seek His kingdom first. I mean, the original missionaries (disciples) were told to go out into the world without even an extra pair of sandals or any money at all. God knew that there would be people along the way to provide them with every necessity and blessing they would need, just like there will be people to do the same for us.

But, we've got to ask those people, and that's where it gets tough for me.

I feel pulled - between the call of God to ask everyone we know to partner with us in this mission,  and my own fears that we will alienate our friends, family, and acquaintances by asking for their financial support.

I don't want to lose friends. I don't want people to be annoyed by me, or think less of me, or to never want to have anything to do with me again. But, even more than that, I don't want to lose out on what God wants/needs me to do. I don't want God to be annoyed by me, or think less of me, or to never want to have anything to do with me again.

So, that's why I'm asking everyone I've ever met to support us and our mission. Even though it's humbling. Even though it's hard.

Sometimes, when I think about doing speaking engagements and asking people for their financial partnership ('cause we really haven't had to do that much, yet), I practice speeches in my head that I'd like to say.

Things like:

"Oh, dear friend/family member/co-worker/acquaintance/person I just met a few seconds ago -

I want you to know that I promise not to be offended if you choose not to give us money. Really! Honest!!

I'm only asking you to partner with us financially because I know, that I know, that I know, that I know that this is what God is asking me to do, and that out of my obedience, He will be greatly glorified and magnified in my life, and in your life, and in the lives of others we have not yet even met or imagined.

And, dear friend/family member/co-worker/ etc... -

I hope that you choose to partner in our mission for exactly the same reason - because you are also excited to know, that you know, that you know that you're being called to give because it will glorify and magnify God, and that's what you long to do in life."

We do not want pity money. Or feeling-sorry-for-you money. Or given-out-of-guilt money. (Ok, so we'd *take* that money if you felt like giving it, of course, but we would hope your reasons would change once you followed the impulse to give, so we could all be blessed by the experience.)

Most of all, though, we don't necessary want money at all, per se. What we want are people who will catch our vision of sharing the gospel. What we want are people who want to give their whole lives (finances included) to furthering Christ's kingdom. What we want are partners, not just givers, who will be with us for the long haul, and lend their faith and their prayers for this mission.

That's what we're looking for. And, even though it sounds reallyreallyreally big and impossible to me, nothing is impossible or too hard for God, and that's something I can truly bank on.

So - do you feel called to partner with us? We are looking for people who will commit to monthly contributions in order to meet our $2,500 monthly need. We're also looking for people who want to contribute occasionally, as they are able or feel led to do so, in order to build our $10,000 sending/emergency fund.

All donations are tax-deductible! Payments can be made by check through the mail to

World Outreach Ministries

PO Box B

Marietta, GA 30061

(Write 'Farrier - 251' in the memo section)

Or, donations can be made online (including setup of monthly donations using credit or debit cards) at this address:

www.worldoutreach.org/donate

(Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu)

There really is no wrong way or amount to contribute, as long as you're led by God in your giving! (Seriously. If that means you feel led not to give, we won't have any hard feelings about. I promise. I hope that you won't have hard feelings about the fact that we're asking.)

And, if the sacrifice of faithful of prayer is what you have to give to our mission, we'd love that as well! We want this whole experience to be positively bathed in prayers!

Remember - God's promise is that everyone (you, us, those in Guatemala, and God himself) will be blessed by giving to missionaries. (2 Cor. 9:10-11, Phil. 4:17, Phil. 4:19) Thank you for your faithfulness and generosity on His behalf!

Greener Pastures

It's summer in Iowa, which means that it's pretty safe to assume that I've either just mowed, am getting ready to go mow, or am trying to figure out how to avoid having to mow. I'm sure you can relate.

To the outside observer, it would appear that I mow the same way I vacuum - infrequently, haphazardly, and with no discernible pattern. (I'm pretty sure the reason aliens have never landed on Earth is because the mismatched patchwork left behind my mower clearly indicates that there's no intelligent life down here.) Despite the way it looks, however, I actually have put a of thought into my mowing habits.

My first experience with a mower was when I was a kid, roughly 10 years old. It was my job to mow the front yard, side yard, back yard, and Little Nebraska. (This was a shadeless, barren, endless wasteland of grassy uniformity. My apologies to the great state to the west of us. But, you are a tad bit boring.)

I managed to do a passable job with the yard as a kid, but didn't really master it until years later, when we bought the home (and yard) from my parents.  After almost 5 years as mistress of the house, I finally got the point where I could mow that yard with my eyes closed. I had figured out the best pattern, exactly where to turn the mower around, and even how to get done mowing Little Nebraska in the fastest possible way without having to actually run. (I don't really like running.)

It was at that point that we moved.

Same story, different location at our last house. It boasted a front yard, side yard, back yard, and yet another Little Nebraska. Perhaps it was the experience I had gained at the last house. Perhaps it was just the fact that I'd matured. Perhaps it was just that I was more motivated, since the yard was bigger, but it only took about 3 1/2 years to get my 'system' down there.

It was at that point that we moved.  (Do you see a pattern here?)

And, would't you know it - this house also has a front yard, back yard, side yard, and a Little Nebraska. (Though, admittedly, even though the actual Nebraska looms larger here than ever before since we are so much closer, this Little Nebraska is the smallest I've ever had to deal with. Hurrah!)

So - here we are - a mere 16 months later - and I've already got this yard allllll figured out. You know what that means, don't you?

Yep - it's time to move.

This time, however, our 'greener pastures' are a bit father afield, you could say. Like, in Guatemala.

That's right - God has called us to the mission field, and we couldn't be more excited! There are still a lot of details to be worked out (we're not planning on leaving until next summer), but we are ready and willing, and we know that He will make us able.

If you want to find out more about what we'll be doing, or how you can help us with our mission, check out our website at:

http://farriersoffaith.org

or our mission-specific blog at:

www.farriersoffaith.blogspot.com

Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be getting outside to mow the yard. Just because I've figured out the best way get the job done, doesn't mean I actually want to go out in the heat and do it...

Gideons

A few weeks ago Mark and I had the distinct privilege of officially becoming members of the Gideons and Gideons Auxiliary (respectively). 

Yes. Those are the people who hand out Bibles. If you've ever stayed in a hotel room in the U.S. (or elsewhere), chances are good that you've slept next to a Gideon Bible. That's because of the faithful service of these men and their wives who recognize the importance of God's Word, and who are dedicated to making sure everyone has access to it. 

It wasn't that long ago that I would have scoffed (sorry to say) at such ambitions, and such an organization. I thought that everyone who wanted to hear about Christ had already had the chance to do so, and that it was rude and pushy to share the gospel with people. After all - who was I to make others feel uncomfortable? To tell them how to live their lives? To try to push my religion on them? 

Now I've come to realize just how wrong those thoughts were.

I'll tell you who I was then (though I didn't realize it), and who I still am today. I'm an ambassador of Christ. That is my whole purpose on earth. (By the way - if you're a Christian, that's your purpose too. If you're not a Christian, it could be yours soon. Send me a message. Give me a call. We'll talk.)

Don't get me wrong - I'm sure people do think I'm being a little rude and pushy sometimes when I put one of those New Testaments in their hands. It probably makes them feel uncomfortable, like I'm trying to tell them how to live their lives, and push my religion on them. But that's because I am, and I do it because I care. 

I care because I've heard too many people tell me that they're not sure what happens after a person dies, but they're okay with that. I care because I've known too many people who have vague aspirations and hopes of going to heaven, but haven't got a clue about how to get there. I care because I've finally come to the place of putting eternal salvation before momentary discomfort. 

It's about time, too.

Perhaps the best explanation I've ever heard for why I want to share the gospel with people came from Penn Jilette, an avowed atheist. In a video segment (see below) that he made after being handed a Gideon Bible, Penn states the following:

If you believe there is a Heaven and a Hell, and that people could be going to Hell...and you think, 'well, it's not really worth telling them, because it could be socially awkward,' - how much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible, and not tell them that?

Ouch. Well said, Penn. 

So, that's why there really is no choice for me but to tell people about Jesus, and to share God's Word with them. It was in a kitchen in a farmhouse in rural eastern Iowa that I gave my life to Christ on June 8th, 1988. It was just me, my savior, and a little Gideon Bible with a green cover, but it was a moment that changed my life and my eternity. I'd hate to think someone else missed the chance to have their precious moment with the Lord just because I was afraid of making somebody uncomfortable - especially if that somebody was me. 

To find out more about the Gideons - including powerful testimonies about how their work has brought people to Christ, check out their website-

http://www.gideons.org

Press play for more of Penn Jilette's eye-opening thoughts about evangelism. It's worth watching. And, I'm praying for Penn to come to know Christ. I know, first-hand, how effective those little Bibles can be, if you'll just open them up and read what's written inside.

The Acoustic Life

Once upon a time I was just about as plugged in as you can get. Twitter. Facebook. LinkedIn. Skype. Emails. Text messages. You name it, I was sending and receiving it on an hourly basis. Part of that is because the technology was newish (at least, newish to me), and it was all so exciting. I couldn't help but forward, retweet, share, and comment on all the fascinating, informative, and inspiring things I was discovering out in the vastness of cyberspace. And that doesn't even include all the hilarious cat, wiener dog, and panda pictures with funny captions. There are enough of those, alone, to have consumed several months of my online time.

Besides just enjoying the novelty of the endless smorgasbord that is social media, I was also busy online for 23.765 hours per day (give or take) because I kind of had to be. Someone in our extended family was facing a major health crisis, and it was vital that we be able to stay in contact, moment by moment, with everyone involved. I was working two almost-full-time, part-time jobs from home, (while being a full-time stay-at-home mom) and needed to be "present" at a minute's notice in all of those capacities and places, even when I couldn't physically be present. Science may not have figured out how to allow a person to be two places at once, but technology sure has! (Kinda...)

I can't even tell you how many times a day I thanked God for the online resources that got me through those challenging years. Back then, those programs and social media sites were my life lines. My time savers. My life savers. But I'm not living back then anymore. The pace of my life, thankfully, has slowed considerably. I've gone from needing to be command central or Union Station, to just being a remote outpost in some dusty, backwoods hamlet.  I couldn't be more pleased!

Learning how to function in my new role, however, took time, especially in regard to all of those fancy, high-tech communication tools I'd come to love (read: become addicted to). When we first moved here, I kept engaging in my online life as often and as fully as I was accustomed to doing before. But, it wasn't the same. There was no joy in it. It felt empty, and even irritating. Could it be true!? I suddenly was inconvenienced by the very conveniences I had previously loved so much.

Well, shoot! How does one go about figuring out how often one "needs" to check social media, when one truly doesn't need to check it at all, anymore? (Probably a more profound question than meets the eye...) At first I just cut back on my reposting and forwards. That, inevitably, lead to less messaging, commenting, and replies. At this point (much to the chagrin of many technophiles I know) I'm barely even checking email or Facebook at all. That's right - this former addict has practically unplugged. Turns out, the acoustic life is a pretty good one.

Acoustic life. I like that. I've liked it since the first moment it entered my brain (probably because I wasn't using those synapses and cells trying to think of a witty comeback to a post about being middle aged).  It's a good way to define what it's like to be less attached to the electronics of this age. And, it is a metaphor that makes sense to me.

In acoustic music, there is nothing artificial to boost the volume or reach of the sounds being created. If you want to be heard by a bigger audience, you have to work a little harder. But, it's worth it. When you're unplugged, your message has so much more fidelity to your audience, and the relationship you create with them is infinitely more authentic and intimate. Being unplugged also gives you freedom to express yourself anywhere, anytime; not just within the confines of outlets, hotspots, or cell towers. But, best of all, is the resonance available to those living the acoustic life. Think about it. Rather than 'noise' being squeezed, amplified, and regurgitated electronically, acoustic sound requires room and time to resonate. Personally, I think we could use a little more of those in modern life: more room, more time, more resonance. Don't you?

But, what do I know? I haven't even read any Tweets about the new Pope, seen any of the newest memes about Justin Bieber, or re-posted a single TGIF funny on Facebook in months. I'm awfully grateful that social media and modern technological opportunities (like blogspot, for example), exist. But, I'm even more grateful that I don't have to rely on them all of the time anymore, and that I've been able to discover the many quiet joys of the acoustic life.

Guatemala Trip - One Week Later

These are the people who changed the world,
just by showing up... 

It's been a week now, since we came home from Guatemala. All of our clothes have been washed and put away. We are back to our normal routines. The sharp edges of our memories are beginning to dull a little. Dull, perhaps, but still ever present. I can tell you this - we are changed. We will never be the same again. The trip - the country - will always be with us.

It's hard to sort out what had the most impact on me. Knowing how much need there is for the women's shelter where we painted? Thinking about young people learning God's word in the classrooms we (literally) laid the foundation for? The persistent, intense faith of the pastors and congregants we met? The beauty of the land and people? The hearts of our host family?

In the end, I think that what sticks with me the most - beyond even all of these memories and experiences - is the quiet whisper from God saying, "keep showing up."

Many years ago I found myself in a strange and intimidating place, facing a task that was far beyond my abilities, the outcome of which was of vital importance to many people. (Sound familiar?) I found favor there and succeeded - not because of anything special about me, but because God was faithful since I obeyed him and showed up. He made very real to me in that experience that the world is run by the people who show up.

He made the same thing real to me in a new and deeper way again when we were in Guatemala.

In the cities and villages we were in, it was very clear that someone is always running the show. Someone is showing up. In some places, the forces showing up were things like poverty, ignorance, hopelessness, greed, corruption, fear. In other places, though, it was people like you and me who showed up. Good people. People with the love of Christ to share. People without any particular skills or talents, except for a willingness to be God's hands and feet, and to speak his words. We show up. He does the rest. It's a powerful partnership, and one that we shouldn't take for granted.

We shouldn't take it for granted in places like Guatemala, where our very presence (or prayers, or financial support...) can be the thing that changes hearts, lives, and eternities. We shouldn't take it for granted in our communities, where we might just be the difference between hope and helplessness for our neighbors and our friends. We shouldn't take it for granted in our workplaces and schools, where we have the chance to form relationships and change lives for the better. We shouldn't take it for granted in our families - the most intimate and powerful of all institutions God created on earth. We shouldn't ever take for granted - no matter where we are, or who we are - that our willingness to show up in our everyday lives is meaningful. It is powerful. It is Godly, and blessed, and will be richly rewarded.

Someday I'd love to return to Guatemala. I will always treasure the time I had there, pray for the people we met, and I hope we can visit again soon. Until then, though, I'm going to be sure that I'm showing up in the here and now, where I live, with the people God has put in my life today. I can't encourage you strongly enough to do the same. After all - someone's going to show up and run the world you live in. Don't you think it'd better be God, through your willing presence?

Guatemala Trip - Day Five

Friday, February 8th --

(Please excuse the many typos. Much of this was written on a very small, and touchy keyboard, while we were driving on very bumpy roads. I'll clean it up later.)

I slept much better last night. Perhaps it is because I got to bed at an earlier hour. It might be that we're so tired that we can't help but fall asleep when our heads hit the pillow. Thankfully, we also didn't have quite as early of a morning - 7:30 for the van, instead of 6:20 like yesterday.

We started off with a delicious breakfast of french toast and fresh pineapple, then we were off to the school. The guys and the ladies (except for Jenny, who was teaching) got to observe classes. I sat in on the end of the morning routine (calendar and prayer time) and Bible time with the 2nd graders. They were talking about wisdom, and practiced several scenarious in groups to decide the wisest course of action or advice to give.

Then I got to see the 4th grade class. They were working on division with money. After the teacher had given the exmple problem, she put up 3 problem in the board, and each student worked the problems at his/her own desk on little white boards. It was fun to get to look over their shoulders and help out when they got off track.

After math time, the Spanish teacher came in. Apparenlty they all study Spanish spelling and grammar, as well as English spelling and grammar.
I only observed for about 10 minutes, during which the tacher would say a word, and then students would write it on their white obards, then divide it into syllables. They were a typically distrdistracted group - with lots of talking, fidgeting, side conversations, and lots of giggles over the fact that hidden inside one of the words they were spelling was a 'dirty' word.

Next I caught the tail end of a the kindergarten teacher reading a book and discussiong how we're all different with her class. Then they lined up and walked outside for recess. Whilewaiting for the teacher, they were showing off different things they could do - race around the playground, skip, and a perfect demonstration of how a dog goes to teh bathroom. That one got a lot of attention - and several students had to either see the demonstration, do their own demonstration, or discuss the ways that boy dogs and girl dogs go to the bathroom differently. Kids are kids no matter where you go. :)

I really enjoyed talking with the first grade teacher. She and her husband both teach at the school, and they're expecting their first child in August. It was fun to get to hear her perspective, and share some mommy advice. After I spoke with her, I went back to the Kindergarten class and got to read two books to the kiddos. They were adorable! One book was about snow and winter, so I told them that it snowed where I live. Some had been to the United States and seen snow, and thy told me they liked snow balls, snow angels, and Frosty the snowman. (I evengot sung to a little for the last one.) When I was finished , they all thanked me, and gave me the most wonderful hugs. I couldn't think of a better way to finsih our time at the school.

Next we hopped into tehe van for a beautiful but harrowing drive up the mountain to the hot springs. We just thought the other roads were bad! Sheer rock cliffs on one side, straight drop offs on the other, and full of windy curves. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just us, but there were tons of trucks (all Toyotas - that's all they seem to have here) loaded with produce and people going to the market. On the drive we got to see the farms and farmers in action. It was breathtaking to be so high up in the mountains and see so much.

We arrived at the hot springs after about 45 minutes or so. It's actually a park that you pay a fee to get into. I don't know how much it cost, since David paid, but it would be worth it no matter what the fee. We were, literally, above the clouds in a rainforest. We parked the van and walked up a gorgeously maintained path with beautiful flowers all around until we arrived at the hot springs themselves. There were many different pools in the park - including one near the entrance. however, where we were there were 3 pools, surrounding a bathroom facility and a small restaurant. The pools had been repaired after an earthquake that destroyed them several years ago. They were all made of cut stone, hand laid, and were filled with water piped in directly from the mountain. The smallest was just under bath temperature. The next was like a warm bath, and the last one was quite warm. It was directly underneath the rock face of the mountain, and the water trickled directly off the rock into the pool. When you walked all the way over to the wall, it was very hot. In fact, if you put your hand under the water trickling in, it almost burned you. However, the pools were just what we needed for our sore muscles, and the surrounding scenery was phenomenal.

After the springs, we drove back down the mountain, stopping in a shop where they sell hand-blown glass. I wanted to take everything home with me, it was all so beautiful. We got to the hotel and had about 45 minutes of down time before heading back to David and Mirsa's for a supper of fried chicken, coleslaw, and homemade guacamole (made 2 different ways). After supper one of our members went to teach at the Bible college. We headed there so we could see it, and then spent an hour or so in the town's main park downtown. We headed upstairs to the patio of a restaurant  where we sipped the most delicious hot chocolate I've ever had and looked out over the downtown.

Now we're back at the hotel, trying to figure out how to get everything back into our suitcases. We're planning on leaving a lot of stuff here as a donation to the shelters. I hope it will be a blessing. I'm excited to get home to see our kids, but it will also be very hard to leave this place.  I can honestly say that neither one of us will ever be the same again after this trip, and that a part of our hearts will always belong to Guatemala.

Guatemala Trip - Day Four

What an early start! We had to be downstairs at the van by 6:20 a.m. Oy! It was good to get started, though, and the breakfast Mirsa had waiting for us was a welcome start to the day. We had scrambled eggs with ham mixed in, fried plantains with sugar and cream, and refried black beans. It was all so delicious! Several of the other ladies went back to the shelter to finish painting the ceiling in the kitchen. The rest of us went to the school.

We started by loading 36 one hundred pound bags of cement (18 at a time) into the van, unloading them behind the school, and carrying them up a flight of stairs to the work sight. It wasn't long after that the cement,  mixer got fired up, and we started our jobs. I shoveled sand and gravel into 5 gallon buckets. Mark carried the buckets and heaved them up and into the cement mixer. There was a whole crew of people who carried little (but very heavy) buckets of the mixed cement and poured them into the foundation. Thankfully, there were several fairly long breaks in the day. I don't know that I could have kept it up all day in the sunshine like Mark did yesterday.

Even as tired as we were, it felt unbelievably wonderful when we finished he job around 1:30 in the afternoon, and got to sit down to a dinner of Dominos pizza.

After that, all 9 of us piled our sweaty selves, along with two extra people, and drove up a very steep and bouncy mountain road. (Well... we had dropped off one of our extra passengers.) We ended up at a park high in the mountain that has a fairly well-known big slide. Big, and it ends at a short cement wall in order to prevent people from being propelled off a steep dropoff. It was fast enough for me by itself, but several people put flattened 2 liter plastic bottles under their rear ends in order to get some extra speed. Several people actually caught air on the bumps. It was very fun. 


After that, we didn't have a whole lot of time, but did get to spend around 40 minutes at a different market (more inside, more souveneirs, less vegetables). We had stopped and exchanged some money for Quetzalis right before we came to the market, and it was tons of fun to ask prices, look at all the goods, and be a part of such an awesome cultural experience. We bought 2 of the purple fruits that Leslie had gotten for us in the other market. I'm not sure - they're called something like Jaimitos or Chaimtos. We also bought an avocado. All together it cost 3 Quetzalis - or about 24 cents. Can't wait to eat them in the hotel this evening. We also got one small souveneir for each of our girls. I wish we would have had more time to shop some more. Hoping we'll have a chance to do some more shopping tomorrow.

After a very quick shower and change of clothes, we headed to David and Mirsa's for a delicious supper of tamales. There were two kinds to choose from - rice with chicken or mashed potatoes with peas. They were wrapped in a kind of leaf similar to a banana leaf. (The locals prefer this type of leaf, and export banana leaves.) What a privilege to be able to have enjoyed this meal!

After supper we loaded into the van to drive to a rural church with an earlier start time. The drive was about 30 minutes, and it was down the mountain and up the other side. We actually drove by a volcano that had erupted and the whole side had collapsed. There were also beautiful farms all around us. The village we went to was very undeveloped. The walk from the road to the church was down a rocky, narrow path. The church was small and simple, with a beautifully-painted mural on the front wall, and very simple wooden benches. The people are more from indiginous tribes, and speak their own native languages.  One of our members preached a powerful word about the need to be filled with the holy spirit, and asked anyone who wanted to receive the spirit and speak in tongues to come forward. The entire church came forward - probably 40 or more people, many of them beautifully dressed women with their babies tied on to their backs. It was a powerful, amazing evening, and I feel so privileged to have been a part of it.

I am trying to soak up as much as I can in the fleeting days of our trip. I feel so blessed to have gotten to have this experience.

Guatemala Trip - Day 3

Wednesday, February 6th
(Sorry I didn't have time to flip some of the pics.)

It was very hard to go to sleep last night, and not terribly easy to stay asleep. We were awakened this morning by the incredibly loud sound of a radio in the room next door. It was alright, though, because it was already 6:20, and we had to be ready to go by 7:00.

We started the day with breakfast at David and Mirsa's house. We enjoyed an enormous stack of pancakes and some melon. The men left with David to go work at the school again. The women (except for one of our group, who went to the Bible College to teach for four hours) were enormously privileged to go with Mirsa to a women's shelter. It is ONLY because of her connection there that we were able to see it. It is in a remote location - even most of the people in Xela don't know about it, to protect the safety of the women there. They are mostly young women, who are running away from their families because of rape, incest, and abuse. Several months ago Mirsa was there and met a 13 year old girl who was holding her infant son, and her infant brother. There were too many stories that Mirsa and her friend Leslie shared to be able to retell here. It was heartbreaking to think of what these girls had already been through, and even more so when we found out that this shelter struggles to find food everyday. It depends entirely on donations, but getting the word out about the shelter poses a risk to the women who live there - many of whom are running away from very dangerous and well-connected drug traffikers.

Our job for the day was to repaint the kitchen. The building was very nice. We found out it had been built by a man from Spain. However, there are no funds for upkeep.. It was such an honor to be able to help out. There were several curious little children around, including one four year old girl who really wanted to talk to me. My Spanish, alas, isn't even at a four-year-old level. :) Figuring out how to paint the kitchen was also a very interesting challenge. To say that our methods wouldn't exactly be OSHA approved is like saying that the Pacific Ocean is a bit damp. At one point one lady was standing on top of a table, that was perched on top of the stove. It was ok, though, because it didn't interfere with the pressure cooker filled with tripe that was hissing away on the other side of the stove.

Mirsa and Leslie were able to go back to Leslie's house and get a ladder, which  meant that one of our group was able to really get into the corners up high. (The ceiling was about 15 feet tall.)

While we were working Mirsa introduced us to a 15 year old girl who was there with her 8 day old baby. We got to hold him. What a precious, precious, poignant moment that was.

Over lunch (sandwiches Mirsa brought, and an  exotic kind of fruit with orange flesh and a large, dark seed that some men use for shaving cream here in Guatemala) we talked about the needs of the shelter, and how to best help them. I suggested that they should get chickens. Mirsa thought that sounded like a good idea, and she called the director of the shelter, who said that would be a good idea. Mirsa is going to check to see how much it would cost to build a coop and get some chickens. I hope we can see it through and make it happen.

We quit work around 3:00, and got to go to one of the markets. Xela has many such markets, apparently, but I could hardly imagine how there could be more than the huge one we saw. It felt like it went on for miles, though it probably only filled a couple of city blocks. There were vendors who rented space indoors (quite a labrynth of narrow corridors, let me tell you!), as well as people just set up on the sidewalk. One lady's umbrella over her stand caught the wind and tipped over, breaking dozens of eggs and spilling several pounds of beans. We stopped to help her clean up as best as we could. I can only imagine what a financial loss that must have been to her.

The variety of things available was amazing. Everything from toilet paper, garden hoses, hand-embroidered fabric (quite expensive), pottery, used cooking utensils, and all the fresh veggies and fruits you could ask for. (Many I didn't recognize.) Leslie bought us a purple fruit - I don't recall the name - for 1 Quetzali that we split open with our hands and ate while we toured the market. Felt strange to spit to the many seeds on the ground, but that's what you're supposed to do. We didn't go through the meat section, because some in our party were a bit squeamish to see (and smell) so much raw, unrefrigerated meat.

However, the vegetables were so beautiful that it was all we could do to take it all in. Everything they sell there is grown in Guatemala, and their growing season lasts all year. The things I recognized included papaya, several types of bananas and plantains, mangos, watermelons, canteloupes, cucumbers, strawberries, onions, garlic, cilantro, star fruit, cucumbers, lettuce, cabbage, corn, lima beans, avocados - the list goes on and on. It was a feast for the eyes. We asked about prices, and found out, for example, that you can often get 2 or 3 big avocados (not the small, Haas ones from California) for around 8 Quetzalis, or 1 American dollar. Where was this market when I was vegan? :) I so wish we had access to such amazing fresh produce!

Here are a few pictures of the market:

After a shower and a tiny bit of down time (more for me than for Mark, who really deserved it - he spent alllll day hauling buckets of sand and rock at the school) we went to supper at David and Mirsa's. This time it was roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and the most delicious zucchini I've ever tasted. 

When we had finished eating we went to a different church for their Wednesday night prayer service. This church was much more humble, but very spirit filled. After a wonderful worship, one of our members brought a word about the need to get things in your life right with God in order to have good soil in your heart. Afterward, the pastor said got up and told his congregation that everything Chris said was a confirmation of what God has spoken to him - that this was going to be a year of prosperity because of the congregation getting right with God. The people cried. There was an alter call, and one man came up to receive Christ. Again - we were so humbled at what we received on a trip where we came to give.

 I know that these words are not sufficient to convey everything that is happening here, but I hope, at least, that you are able to see what a mighty God we have, and how very grateful I am for the chance to be here. 

Guatemala Trip - Day Two

Tuesday, February 5th
(Sorry there are no pics - the internet is too slow here.)

The day started early - we had to be in the van by 7:10. We drove first to David and Mirsa's house, where we were plied with enormous quantities of delicous food - scrambled eggs, fried plantains with sugar and cream, home made refried black beans. After that we got back in the van nd went to the school. It was interesting to see Xela during the day.  It is incredibly hilly, and the turns and corners are amazing. Traffic seemed equally chaotic here as in Guatemala City. Whoever is biggest and/or bravest has the right of way.

The school is on top of a very big hill, and the view of the city below is breathtaking. We knew we had a long day of hard work ahead of us, but it was ok, since we had unbelieveable views to enjoy. It was especially fun to see the volcano. It was inactive, but the one behind it wasn't, and we saw several puffs of smoke throughout the day.

We started with a tour of the school. It was amazing to see. It's been there for 50 years, is a Christian school, serves pre-K through 12th grade, is completely taught by American teachers, and all the instruction is done in English. It was very, very modest by American standards, but very neat and tidy. It's strange to see buildings with open courtyards between them. I don't think that would work in Iowa. :)

 Their library has around 15,000 books, and have the largest collection of English books in Western Guatemala. The computer lab has all Macs. Since class size is limited to 15 kids, this lab can accommodate a whole class at a time. They also have a class set of laptops, and of Ipads. All the kids bring their own lunches, and can heat them up in the mircowave.

After our tour, we got to work. They already had the foundation dug for 2 small classrooms they were adding. (Well... most of it. Mark got the pleasure of digging the rest.) Everything was done by hand. Our tasks for the day included hauling material up and down the very steep hills, cutting and bending steel to make brackets to hold the rebar together, cutting the wire and wiring the brackets to the rebar, and hauling sand (by 5 gallon buckets) up a flight of stairs to a different pile. It was very warm - 71 degrees or so. The sun is very potent this near the equator, and we had to be very careful not to get sunburns. Also, since we are at 7,500 feet elevation, it was very easy to get overly exerted and breathless. We broke for a lunch of sandwiches and chips which some of the ministries brought in. It was hard, hot work much of the time, but so worth it! To see how much progress we made in just one day felt phenomenal, especially after we had some parents, teachers, and students express great gratitude for our work.

After working we headed back to the hotel for a quick (and cold, and low-pressure) shower. Really makes you grateful for the little things back home. (FYI - flushing toilet paper is not allowed either. That is taking some getting used to.)

Supper tonight was also phenomenal - a chicken, broccoli, and pasta dish with a side salad and dinner rolls. If we weren't working so hard during the day, I'd be afraid we'd all weight 500 pounds by the time we go home.

This evening, however, has been the highlight of the whole trip for me so far. We visited a church in a nearby village. Before we arrived, David told us a little history of this village. In the 70's it was very poor and had no agriculture or exports. There was a man there who tried to commit suicide - pulled the trigger 6 times, and every one misfired. After that, he gave his life to Jesus. When he went to tell his grandmother (who had been mute for 30 years) about it, she was healed and able to speak. Soon, the whole village was on fire for God, and he blessed them. It is said that their vegetables are still the best anywhere - with carrots as big as your arm! To say we were excited doesn't even begin to cover it.

Our visit started with a tour of the whole building. The basement is used as a parking garage and also has a water purification system. Unfortunately, when they built on to the building to make the new sanctuary,  the system (which had been installed by a missionary group from the U.S.) had been disconnected. When the church was using it before, they provided free, clean water to all the schools and widows in town. (Remember - you can't drink the water from the taps.) The group that put it in hasn't been able to come down to fix it again, so they're without the clean water they (and so many others) used to rely on.

Their 3rd floor is totally open for now - a flat roof. Someday it will be offices, but it was the perfect place to look out over the town. Next door were a couple of houses that were especially eye opening. One was completely open over 1/2 of the house. We could literally see into their living room. The other house was a row house, and only had curtains for doors.

Their sanctuary was beautiful, and newly-remodeled. The pastor had a vision and a word from God to tear down their old church and build this one. It took years, and much faith, but he credits the building as a miracle from a mighty, capable God. He was such a humble, kind, man.

The service was beautiful as well. By the time we got done with our tour, they were well into their hour-long worship. Humble, but moving. The pastor insisted that we all get up and introduce ourselves, and the congregation (approx 40, mostly young people) all clapped after each name. The message that our group member brought was a very personal but simple word about the power and importance of forgiveness. Afterward, she invited people who felt the Holy Spirit calling them to forgive a certain person or people to come forward. Almost everyone did. She prayed for them all, and there were many tears. It was, clearly, a powerful moment for all of us.

Afterward, everyone wanted to take pictures of and with us. I have never felt like such a celebrity in my whole life. David said that it is very, very rare - possibly once in a lifetime - that these people would have a group of American visitors at their church. They took it as such a distinct honor for us to be there, and committed to praying for our church, as we committed to pray for theirs.

It is humbling beyond words to have been so welcomed with such open arms  - literally. We were hugged by or shook hands with everyone. And, though language was a barrier, we were very aware of the love that we had for one another. One woman gave me a big hug, and said, "welcome, sister" in Spanish. How amazing is our God that he can take me halfway across the hemisphere and still I can find family.