Bendiciones

There are some things that just don't translate. Others that do, but just sound silly. Like the fact that we all call each other "sister" so-and-so or "brother" so-and-so in the church. It sounds endearing in Spanish, but in English its like we're all either nuns or African American men. Two other things people say a lot here are "Dios te bendiga" (God bless you) and "bendiciones", (blessings). They can be said when one answers the phone, hangs up the phone, greets in person, or says goodbye. It would sound so funny in the U.S. to give someone a hand shake or hug at church and say "blessings" to them and nothing else. But here, it's sweet. That...or meaningless words, but who's to say.

Well, after my last post, that apparently sounded a bit angsty, I got three different concerned emails and phone calls. I knew I sounded a bit upset, but it actually could have been much worse. As is true for all of us, right? No public forum like a blog would ever receive the true outpouring of emotion that we all feel at times. Thankfully, though, I don't think those people were just concerned. I think they prayed. And I think God listened and graciously gave me, us really, just as many bendiciones as we needed to go on. And to go on knowing that we are not here alone; God really is with us.

I had felt for a while like it had been so long since we'd received any encouragement here. Not that things aren't going well, but so long since someone had commented positively on something we were doing, that we were working hard, that this or that thing was a good idea, or that our Spanish was improving. I don't mean encouragement from the people we're serving, but at least from the church that we're serving in. I don't mean to sound like I need my head patted and told that I am doing well, but honestly, sometimes we do need that! Or at least I do.

So last Saturday afternoon we went to a pollada (where someone makes a bunch of chicken meals and sells them) that one of our neighbors was having. He was a neighbor we didn't know well and we didn't know any of his family. He, Omar, invited Steve on the street one day and told him to bring "the skinny one"; he didn't know my name. Steve responded, "Um...you mean, my wife?". "Yeah, bring her, too". Omar didn't use the word pollada in his invitation though, so we showed up with our bottle of Coke in hand to contribute, thinking we'd been invited to a neighborhood BBQ. We quickly realized after entering the garage, that it wasn't just a BBQ, Omar wasn't even there, and we would have to pay. (Not the point of the story, but a little cultural flavor to explain why life is more complicated here that it should be). It didn't matter to us too much, but we did find ourselves sitting at a table with perfect strangers, who all knew each other. As I've said before, or hope I've said, Peruvians are nice, so at least it wasn't hard to start up a conversation.

After 10 or 15 minutes a man, Peter, came and sat down across from us. We quickly discovered that he was a Christian and went on to talk for over an hour. We mentioned to him that we were going to be speaking at the church next weekend (this past Sunday) and that we were nervous. He quickly smiled and reminded us that "Perfect love drives out all fear" (1 John 4:18) and that if we speak in love, if we remember that we have God's love with us, we don't need to be afraid of anything. His smile might have even meant more than the words. Halfway through the conversation, which was all encouraging, he said, "Wow, your Spanish is really good!" When we sheepishly responded, "Thanks...we don't always feel that way", he shot back, "No, really! It's really good! I mean, you understand everything I'm saying!".

At that point, I just thought, God really wanted to make a point didn't he? You know why God would care about something little and stupid (compared to wars and famine and etc etc etc)? Because he's a personal God. Not one who is off in the distance or one who did something once upon a time for humanity and now expects us to believe in him because of it, no, he's one who is involved and present in the lives of his children. He is there.

The next day someone else commented on how much my Spanish had improved. She had thought about brushing up on her English after she first met us so that she could talk to us. How sweet. But now, she said, you understand everything! Really! I thanked her. Because it really did mean something to me. And again, a bendición that I really needed.

On Wednesday, Anita covered one of the few groups I have direct responsibility over so that we could attend a Catholic memorial service for our neighbors' father who passed away six months ago. We've wanted to develop a stronger relationship with them and this was a great opportunity since they had personally invited us to come. Since then, we've felt that there is more trust between us and them and look forward to being better friends in the future.

All this to say, this last week was full of bendiciones, of blessings. Oh, and because she's cute and also a blessing...Cary. She'll get her own post though. She deserves it.

Being a Foreigner

Friends back home sometimes ask us what cultural differences we've noticed here. Friends, taxi drivers, and really anyone who wants to talk here often ask if we're acostumbrados. I used to answer confidently that I was feeling comfortable here, "people are so nice, it's easy to get around, the food is great...it's not really that hard of a cultural transition". You know, western hemisphere still and all.

That was easy to say when we'd been here two or three or even four months. Or for someone who visits a country for an extended period of time. But as time goes on, even as my Spanish improves, I find more and more things that are just different. Not even things that are better or worse (although those exist too), but just that are different and constantly reminding me that this is not my country and I am an outsider.

Like the fact that meals or snacks or even drinks brought to a meeting are shared after the meeting is over, not before or even during. So don't spend a bunch of money on a chicken and french fry dinner, because it will sit there and get cold and soggy (cold fries...so sad) until the end of the meeting at 10pm when it's time it eat it. Or the way that movie tickets aren't sold to the exact number of seats there are, so you need to line up early or you might not get in, or that coffee at a church retreat is not considered necessary, or that at a restaurant, you generally order drinks after the food, if at all. Or that dogs wear sweaters when it gets down to 60 degrees. Or that plain water is not exceptable to serve to guests. I could go on and on. There are SO many differences. And the more I get to know the culture, the more I find. We can laugh about some of them with friends here now. Especially the ones that we adapted to quickly once we understood. But the thing is, there's always something new and you can only comment on "how things are there (the vague word to describe the US)" so many times before you start to annoy people. So most of the time, people don't even realize that we're constantly adapting, because they don't realize that everything is different either.

I imagine that anyone who has ever been really immersed in a culture would understand this...stress. I don't mean anyone who has lived in another country, because being physically in a country does not mean you are immersed in the culture. Let me explain our situation. We live in a district of over 600,000 people. I have never met, seen, or even heard of another English-speaking foreigner that lives here. I have met a Mexican and a Colombian and have seen a few Chinese (although, maybe part Peruvian). I've heard rumors of Italians and some other european guy. We have been here for nine months.

Today on the bus this old man yelled to me as the person next to him got off, "Sit down, gringa" and chuckled as he said gringa, like it was so funny to him that I was there. Far from the first time people have been amused at my very presence. Then, as I sat next to him he looked at me and smiled like I was this novelty that was really entertaining to him. I faked a smile back. I wasn't in the mood. As he got off he waved and yelled back, "Chau, gringa!". At that point, my annoyance at not being able to ride the bus in peace without being reminded for the 30th time of the day that I was different from everyone else here vanished and I couldn't help but laugh. Two other ladies on the bus started laughing too, and we smiled at each other and commented on "...old people". Ha!

There isn't much of a point to this post besides maybe "be nice to foreigners because life is not always so easy for them". Don't treat them like they're dumb. It's hurtful. And they're not. Or maybe this was purely catartic, although I don't feel any better. At the very least, I'm admitting that at times I am homesick and this happens to be one of those times. The charm of this new culture has long ago worn off and I'm really looking forward to going home for a visit in two months. Until then, if you pray, pray that I find joy in the differences and the peace that surpasses all understanding.

Mis Paisanos

Peruvians (and maybe all Spanish-speaking people, but I wouldn't know) use this word paisano that means people from the same country. The best translation is countrymen, but that shouldn't count since we don't actually use that word. I learned the word when a group of Americans were coming to visit the church and a friend told me, "Your paisanos are coming!". Well, my paisanos have come. A few months ago we were struggling with the fact that we were the only foreigners around and never felt like we could just relax and stop thinking so hard (Spanish) just to be friends with someone. Thankfully that's changed as we've become more proficient in Spanish, but it's also helpd that in the last few months we've spent a good amount of time with some lovely paisanos.

The first one was a guy, Aaron, who used to be a fellow for HOPE and is now working with a similar organization. He was in Peru for about six weeks and we were able to hang out a few times. It was the first contact we'd had with any native English speakers since we got here. And since he knew all about HOPE we were even able to bounce ideas off him about the program. That was in the end of April and beginning of May. We spent several hours one night at an electronic music concert, so you know, Steve was in heaven.

Then in the middle of May a group of seven wonderful women came from the church in TN to help lead a women's conference at the church. I spent almost every waking moment with them from the time they arrived to when we said goodbye in the airport. Steve was in the US, so it was good timing to be occupied and a blessing to laugh, play, and pray with them.

The ladies from TN with the pastors' wives of the Comas church

In the beginning of June a friend from college, Stephanie, moved to Peru! She's living in Puno, which is about a 24 hour drive from here, so we're not exactly next door neighbors, but at least living in the same country. She stopped over in Lima on her way there and we met after she taught a Zumba workshop in a square in Lima. After living in a world of dark brown hair and dark skin, it was pretty funny to walk into a square in Lima and see bright blonde Stephanie dancing up on stage in her pink pants to Zumba music. And again, refreshing to the soul to spend an afternoon with someone that I've known for a long time, even if we've seen each other very little since college. And with someone this cool!

Finally, Tim, Steve's brother came to visit this month! We went on a whirlwind tour of Cusco, Colca Canyon, and Arequipa. We had a great time with him and a friend he brought and got to know so many beautiful parts of this beautiful country. We also got to experience altitude sickness together. :) We were sad to see him go, but thankful to have had the chance to travel around Peru with him and also for him to see Comas and meet some of our friends.

We're condor watching in Colca Canyon. It is serious business. 

Thanks, Paisanos, for coming to visit! In the meantime, a man at church has started calling Steve his paisano. Last night as he called to Steve, "Hola, paisano!", he turned to me and explained that he calls him paisano so that he'll feel loved and like he's part of a family here. How sweet.

Teaching English

Our church here has a program called Panes Kids at two of the daughter churches, Año Nuevo and Km.22. Panes Kids is an afterschool program that includes a big lunch and a lesson. Children in Peru usually eat their big meal when they get home from school around 1:00 or 2:00 pm. In families where the Mom has to be working all day and they can't afford to pay someone to watch the kids (or cook), getting this big meal in gets complicated, thus why Panes Kids is a huge help to the families whose children attend. I started volunteering two days a week at the Año Nuevo Panes Kids about three weeks ago. We have about 40 kids ages 5-13. Recently I started teaching them English. Even though we didn't come here with any plan to teach English to anyone, it's exciting to be able to teach something that is SO in demand in Peru to kids who otherwise lack the resources to get this kind of education. Speaking English in this country is an enormous asset that automatically increases opportunties for well-paying work. I love that these precious kids are getting it for free.

Today, I was teaching a group of 5-7 years old that I hadn't taught before. I started the class by asking them if they knew any words in English. One said "Hello!", another, "Thank You", and another shouted, "GRINGO!". Good guess, but no. Ha!

I then proceded to ask them what countries are English-speaking. One immediately said the U.S. When I asked for more countries, I got Chile, El Salvador, Spain, and finally, when I had said no to all of those, a kid answered confidently, "Mexico!" They all got quiet as they waited to hear my answer, as if they agreed that was a good guess. At that point I decided it was time to move on.

Today we learned how to say "Hi", "Hello", "What is your name?", "My name is ____", and how to count to 10. They learned even faster that the 8-11 year olds. Some barely even know how to write and read in Spanish, so they weren't asking why things were the way they were or how Spanish and English are different, they were just listening and repeating. I was so proud of them. But there's a difference between listening and repeating (even if perfectly) and understanding. When we were saying goodbye, a few of them (not just one!) excitedly waved to me and said "Hello!" as they ran out the door. I didn't have the heart to correct them. We'll have to save that for another day.

A Savings Group with some of the moms of Panes Kids. This is also our classroom.

From Tennessee with Love

I started this post back in December while we were in the D.R. I guess it's finally time to finish it. :) Sorry that this is super old news to some of you, but it's not to everyone!

Almost five months ago now we "met" (over Skype) four people from the ministry The Locker Room and the church Fellowship Bible Church in Nashville, TN that are donating a substantial portion of our financial support (most, or all, of them go to Fellowship Bible Church, but the financial support is coming from The Locker Room, not the church).

The story is better from the beginning, so I'm gonna start there. When Steve was interviewing with HOPE last September, during his interview with his current boss, Andy, we found out that there was a ministry/church in TN that would be supplying almost half of the financial support for the fellowship. Andy and Steve discussed this as Andy tried to give Steve a picture of what kind of fundraising would be necessary as part of this position. After the call, as we talked about the position and the church in Comas that we would be closely partnered with, we decided that we really should know more about this church in Comas before deciding this is something we want to do. There are some crazy churches out there, right? Just because it is a church, it does not mean I want to align my life with them, unfortunately.

Thankfully, my husband has intense internet researching skills and can find things in two minutes that I wouldn't find in an hour. We set out to find the church Andy had mentioned (without the name or denomination) and within a few minutes Steve had a church in TN pulled up on his computer that has a relationship with a Christian Missionary Alliance Church in Comas, Peru. There was a picture of the head pastor on the website. His name is Michael Easley.

That name probably means nothing to most of you, but Michael Easley was the head pastor of the church I grew up going to in Virginia. He moved away and left our church when I was in college ended up at a church in TN a few years later. Steve didn't tell his interviewers this in follow-up calls since our connection with this church should have nothing to do with him getting the position with HOPE (and it wouldn't have anyway). It was a confirmation to us, though. We thought, "Here we are trying to connect with this organization, at which we know no one, and this church in Peru, at which we know no one, and we find out that a man that I have always highly respected is the lead pastor of the church in TN that we will be partnering with."

We've had only four or so conversations over Skype and a few emails exchanged, but have felt tremendous care and support from them. I say, "From Tennessee with Love" because that is what we've felt from each conversation -love, encouragement, support, and prayer. I know they're praying for us. People that we've never even met. What a blessing! While we've yet to meet in person, I am confident it will be a sweet time when we finally do.

Our church in Comas - the church welcoming the women back from a retreat I went on a few weeks ago. We all ran through a tunnel like a sports team, went up on stage, and sang and danced. These people know how to celebrate! 

Enterprise and Poverty

PovertyCure - A Six-Part DVD Series [EXTENDED TRAILER]

This is a great video trailer from PovertyCure about poverty and enterprise. I really appreciated what Andreas Widmer says in it, "I'm frustrated with this idea that poverty means living on one or two dollars a day. That is a very bad way to state the problem." I appreciate it because I've asked myself many times recently, "Who are the poor?". It really can't just be reduced down to who makes a certain amount of money (defined by the U.S. dollar, of course). That would automaticaly exclude many of the poor in U.S. cities. And it would include some people who can provide for their families and live contently with what they have. It's just not that simple.

This video doesn't address that exact question, but it does talk a bit about how enterprise is so very different from aid when it comes to caring for the "poor", whoever exactly they may be, because it draws on the richness and creativity of the human spirit. And that is not determined by how much you have in your bank account.

Community Organizers

Sorry President Obama, but you got nothing on them! Anyone who wants to study community organizing needs to visit Peru. At the health center where I've been volunteering, I've been spending most of my time working on a family health initiative that was recently started. Certain neighborhoods around the center were targeted as a result of being in the most material need. Lesser material wealth is often equated with lesser access to health care and lesser education about health, so it makes sense to start in those areas.

Last Tuesday a young woman in the neighborhood where we've spent the most time was badly burned while cooking. We were told she had severe burns on 90% of her body. Within a few days, neighbors had organized themselves to hold a "pollada", an event where they would make fried chicken lunches and sell them to raise money for her hospital bills. When you go to the hospital here you have to pay by the day. If you don't pay, you don't get treated. Literally, you will not get the antibiotics you need, burn treatments, etc etc etc. Pretty shocking, but it's what hospitals have to do to stay open. So these neighbors made over 340 portions of fried chicken, potatoes, and cabbage salad and by selling them for 10 soles a piece ($4), they raised enough money to pay her hospital bills for many days.

The woman who is my "boss" at the clinic was excited to explain to me what Peruvian solidarity meant and encouraged me to take photos. She even handed me her plate full of chicken bones and empty soda glass to hold to prove that I ate there. Yeah, a little strange, but hey.

Me with Rosa (who works at the clinic) and Hilda, Miriam, and Elizabeth (the three nursing students working on the project as well). 

Marinating the chicken and cutting the cabbage

A vat of marinated chicken!

The big pot is for boiling potatoes and the pan is for frying the chicken. They are bigger than it seems from this picture!

Does God Hear You When You Complain?

Of course God hears us when we cry and when we pray and is inclined to our prayers and delights to answer us. But when we complain and sulk, is he just "disappointed"? Or does he still care about our concerns despite the fact that we are not honoring and trusting him with our thoughts and feelings? Do we have to be "holy" in order for God to love us and take care of us? Obviously the answer is no, since we are only holy through Christ, but through ourselves we are far from it.

Last night, we felt lonely. It's not that we don't know people. I actually feel sometimes like I don't have enough time to get together with all the people that I want to in a week. It's not that. It feels kinda silly even writing it out. So long story short, we were just feeling alone last night. Like there were people that we could call anytime, but that we weren't fully a part of any community here, even in the church.  We felt like exactly what we are...foreigners.

So today at church as we were leaving the service, a woman ran up to me and asked if we would come to lunch with her and her family. She said they'd seen us around and wanted to invite us out. She said, "so you will feel like family." They'd even asked the pastor if it was okay, which of course he said yes. I had never seen her before. When I told Steve what she'd said, we just stared at each other and smiled. I asked, "Does God hear you when you complain?". We didn't even pray about this. We don't deserve this. They said we'd meet up at 1, after they went to the following service. While we waited I sat with one of my favorite people and talked about our families, some hard things we'd gone through, and she proceeded to tell me that she really wanted to be friends. Real friends. Who are there for each other and walk through things together. I cried multiple times during our conversation.

Then at 1:00, we met up with the woman I had never seen until an hour before. Her and her husband took us to one of our favorite restaurants and then out for ice cream. We spent the entire afternoon with them and their two boys. The father spoke English well, too, which was a unexpected, but nice, change from normal. I know they will continue to be friends.

Did God provide these interactions to shame me and show me how foolish I was for complaining and crying or just because he delights to show mercy to his children? Does it surprise him that we are weak and continually lacking in faith and trust? No. Does he love to shower grace on his children anyway? Yes.

Disculpame!

Forgive me, to any of you who have been checking, for not writing an update for so long. Two and a half weeks ago we finally moved into our apartment. That was over a week after my last saying we were moving in on "Monday". But hey, we're here!

View out our living room window

The word "unfurnished" takes on new meaning here. It means no stove, refrigerator, toilet seat, or bathroom mirror. Anything that can be removed is removed. So it's taken a lot of time and energy the last two weeks to figure out where to buy things, how to transport them, and to ask enough different Peruvian friends to come with us different places and at different times to not completely exhaust anyone in particular. Thankfully, it's all worked out and life is returning to normal. A new and better normal, actually. One that includes sleeping in the same bed. :)

Since pictures are worth a thousand words and I'm a little short on time, please see the pictures below. We've had a really great week of meetings with different churches and ministries to talk about the savings program and try to figure out where and how it could best meet needs here.

The savings group at a church called Faith in Action that we visited on Sunday

The church above hosts one of the five current savings groups in the program. The pastor (light blue shirt, middle of the photo) heard about the program when it was first starting up over a year ago even though his church is not affiliated with the church in Comas out of where the program is run. He thought it sounded like something that would help his congregation so he started a group there.  We heard testimonies from two women about how hugely beneficial it has been for them. One said, "When we heard 'savings' we thought, 'Save what? I don't have any money to save'". To me it sounded a huge benefit of the group in her life was the she had an attitude of poverty - that she expected not to be able to provide financially for what she wanted and needed - that began to change as she saved.

Feeling empowered to achieve your goals is no small thing. These women were most definitely empowered as they spoke with conviction about the things that their savings have helped them to do. One paid for her daughter's wedding. The daughter is now saving and using it to pay her way through college to get an education degree. She shared that although she thought she had nothing, she's realized she has more than she thought...it was just being ill-spent as a result of believing it could never amount to much anyway. 

The house where the church, Faith in Action, meets

I don't want to incorrectly represent people here though. A good part of this community is what I would consider "middle-class". Most of Comas, I believe, does not have an attitude of poverty. One of our goals though is to find the people that could benefit from the problem, and it seems that there are many.

Also, a quick answer to prayer. I spoke with a doctor and nurse at a clinic today and will start volunteering with them in some public health projects focused on children in the community on Thursday. Thanks for praying with us!

Sometimes You’re Just Wrong

The neighborhood

This apartment search had really got us down. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it’s the truth. We felt like we were making the right decision by trying to live in the immediate neighborhood of the church and in a first floor apartment. So we chose the less nice apartment, for a higher price, that had a lot of things needing to be fixed/cleaned in order for it to be a comfortable and well-functioning place to live. We went on Saturday with Roberto and Maria to talk to the owner and see if he could make a few improvements to it before we moved in. We all agreed that Maria’s contractor friend would meet us at the apartment on Sunday afternoon to give an estimate for the work, of which we would pay for at least half. Thankfully, on Saturday we noticed some things about the apartment that we hadn’t noticed before. We thought it needed a new paint job, but only realized on Saturday that it looked that way because the paint was peeling as a result of moisture and mold. Yes, mold. And it smelled like it too. Something we had noticed before but assumed it was just as a result of being closed up, or the smell of the cement floor, something like that. Maria and Roberto agreed it could cause health problems, but also wanted to be positive and told us it could be treated.

On Sunday I met a nurse in the church, Norma, who volunteers on Sunday mornings in a little clinic in the church that gives out free medication to people who bring a prescription from their doctor, does basic exams, and gives over-the-counter medicine to those who need it. We sat together and she taught me. It was wonderful. We had quite a bit of time to chat so I told her about the apartment and about the mold issue. She said if there’s a little it’s okay, that you can treat it, but if there’s a lot we shouldn’t live there. On further examination on Sunday afternoon, there was a lot. Not only that, but the owner didn’t like the contractor we brought, and wanted to find her own, meaning that the apartment wouldn’t be ready for at least two weeks. It was disappointing. We just wanted to be able to settle somewhere, unpack our suitcases, and get on with why we came.

On Monday night there are men’s and women’s groups at the church. Roberto is the Men’s Ministry Pastor and Maria, his wife, leads the women’s group. Maria shared Philippians 4:4-7, 

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus”. 

I shared this with Steve when we got home. It was the first time in about a week we really felt at peace with the apartment search. Turned out we had turned it into one big drama, assuming it would dictate so much about our lives here, it would make or break our effectiveness, and wanting to make sure everyone thought we were making the right decision.

There was an apartment that we’d seen last Sunday that was perfect. It was a well cared for, new building with a very clean and perfect sized apartment. It was a little less expensive than, shall we call it…the moldy one. The only “problem” with it was that it was a twenty-minute walk to the church. Yes, not far, but father than most everything else we’d looked at.

Sometimes decisions seem so daunting. And by sometimes I mean always for me. I have got to be one of the worst decisions makers ever made. I don’t even know where I got it. My parents aren’t like this and my brother definitely isn’t either. It doesn’t matter where it came from though. What matters is that I’m learning that everything doesn’t have to feel perfect, everyone doesn’t have to be pleased, and “buyer’s remorse” is just a way of letting ourselves out of being content in the situation we’re in. Life is too short to let stress rob our peace and joy. I write, “Sometimes You’re Just Wrong” because that was the only conclusion I could come to when we finally decided to go with this other, “farther” apartment and heard from the owner when we called that it was already taken. I thought, “We were wrong and now we have to live with the consequences. No reason to sulk, but let’s at least admit we were wrong and learn from it”. Thankfully, our telephone Spanish skills are hit-or-miss and we were actually wrong about the apartment being gone. And Lord willing, we’re moving in Monday!

Rock Band for Jesus

If you’ve spent much time in church, really in certain kinds of churches, you probably understand. And if you know anything about Redeemer, you know that it’s not one of those churches. Sometimes Jazz Band for Jesus, but that’s as far as it goes. And that’s totally fine. Jesus said in Luke 19:40 that, “If they (referring to his disciples) keep quiet the stones will cry out”. He means the rocks will cry out to worship him. That our praise of him matters, but he's saying here “I will be praised no matter if you do it or not and if you acknowledge me or not.  If you don’t, the rocks will.” So if the rocks will, I am fairly certain that it is irrelevant what type of music we use to worship him. We don’t need music at all. But if we are going to use music, I prefer the rock band.

Yes, emotion and depth can be expressed quietly, but it makes the most sense to me for them to be expressed loudly - with voices and with instruments. In the DR we went to a church that sang several songs that were originally written in English and translated into Spanish. The congregation might not even know that and it is really irrelevant anyway, but it at first really bothered me. I wanted to say, Spanish-speaking people can write beautiful music too! Why are you relying on things imported from the U.S.? It made me annoyed at my country that exports culture in every way possible and “ruins” other cultures. Annoyed for about 10 seconds. And then I thought, “I love this song. And it’s an awesome song. How cool that we can all sing the same words to God in different languages…and how cool that I actually understand this song!” Ha! And it became really beautiful to me. Beautiful because I know that language and music don’t matter to God, it’s the worship from our hearts that he wants.

Okay, so take a song translated from English, add 400 Peruvians singing with their whole hearts, and a rock band. It equals pure joy. Do you know the song, “You Never Let Go” by Matt Redman? If you do, here it is in Spanish. Sing it out loud. It just might give you joy in your heart, too. 

Aunque yo esté 
en el valle de la muerte y dolor 
tu amor me quita todo temor... 

y si llego a estar en el centro de la tempestad, 
no dudaré,porque estás aqui. 

Y no temeré del mal 
pues mi Dios conmigo está 
y si Dios conmigo está 
de quién temeré? 

No,no me soltarás 
en la calma o la tormenta 
No,no me soltarás 
en lo alto, en lo bajo 
No,no me soltarás 
Dios nunca me dejarás. 

Puedo ver la luz 
que se acerca 
al que busca de ti, 
glorioso Dios. 

Y terminarán los problemas y mientras llega el fin 
viviremos conociéndote a ti 

Y no temeré del mal 
pues mi Dios conmigo esta, 
y si Dios conmigo está 
de quién temeré? 

No,no me soltarás 
en la calma o la tormenta 
No,no me soltarás 
en lo alto, en lo bajo 
No,no me soltarás 
Dios nunca me dejarás. 

Puedo ver la luz 
que se acerca 
al que busca de ti 
y terminarán los problemas. 

Mientras llega el fin 
voy a alabarte, 
voy a alabarte solo a ti. 

Y puedo ver la luz que se acerca 
al que busca de ti 
y terminaran los problemas. 

Mientras llega el fin 
voy a alabarte... 

No,no me soltarás 
en la calma o la tormenta 
No,no me soltarás 
en lo alto, en lo bajo 
No,no me soltarás 
Dios nunca me dejarás.

And in case that made no sense to you, here it is in English.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I'm caught in the middle of the storms of this life
I won't turn back
I know you are near

And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?

(Chorus:)
Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me

And I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
A glorious light beyond all compare
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
We'll live to know You here on the earth

(Chorus)

Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You, still I will praise You

(Chorus 2x's)

Apartment Searching

We arrived safely in Comas on Thursday night and have had a packed last five days of getting to know the neighborhood, the church, the people working with the savings and credit (SCA) groups, the food, the transportation, etc etc etc. Would have loved to give a little update sooner, but we haven't had much access to the internet. There are many things I'd love to write about, but the thing most on my mind right now is finding an apartment. So here you have it.

Apartment Searching

Something that at first was completely daunting, then just tiring and difficult, is now my favorite thing to do in Comas. The thought of searching for an apartment in a country (and continent!) that you’ve never even visited before with language skills that leave something to be desired was a bit overwhelming before we arrived here. On Saturday, Roberto picked us up in a borrowed car to drive around the neighborhood looking for an apartment. There is no craigslist here, no newspaper listing, nor a place to go to find out about all of the vacant apartments. You search by driving or walking around the neighborhood looking for hand-written signs in the windows or doors.

Once Steve and I figured out how the system worked, we decided to venture out on our own and walk the neighborhood on Sunday to see if we could find more options. There is a street a bit north of the church that reminded us a little bit of home. Maybe just because there are a lot of people and a lot of food? Anita, a woman working with the savings and credit groups also lives over there and we wanted to be close to her, too. Either way we wanted to see if we could find an apartment closer to there. As we walked the neighborhood a woman yelled to us from the second floor of a house under construction. She was in the savings group that we had visited the previous night and asked if we were looking for someone. We told her we were searching for an apartment. She told us we were looking in the wrong area, that her street wasn’t safe, and offered to walk with us to a better area to look. Five or ten minutes after we parted ways with her we heard someone yelling after us and turned to see her running to catch us. On her walk home she’d noticed a sign and wanted to take us to see it. So the three of us went up to see an apartment. As we followed behind the owner and her, she turned around quickly and said seriously, “You are my family”. I’m pretty sure we weren’t going to fool the owner into thinking that we were related, but it was sweet anyway.

Turned out to not be a great apartment. Once we were back on the street with the door closed behind us, she turned to us, and in English, said “I don’t like it”. That probably doesn’t sound funny to you, but we find it hilarious every time someone whips some English phrase out of nowhere when we didn’t know they knew any English at all.

So that was Sunday. On Monday and Tuesday we also walked the neighborhood looking for apartments. Yesterday we decided that maybe the best way to find one was not even to look for signs, but to just asked people on the street, shop owners, etc. So we did. And we ended up meeting a lot of people! This must be the easiest place in the world to meet people. We’re leaning toward a first floor apartment that we saw on Saturday for that reason. We want to be part of this community and know that some of that is just being on the street.

So we’ll let you know how it goes with this one! Today we are hopefully going to see it again and see if we can negotiate some improvements. By “we” I mean our friend Roberto, one of the pastors of the church, who has worked in the business world for many years and is just a kind, likeable, and funny man. He will negotiate on our behalf. There are many other things I could write about right now. This has been a packed last five days. But that will have to wait until another day. Pictures to come soon!

Much love.