Advancing

I'm not sure if we've ever shared what we call our church plant team at this time: La Avanzada. In Spanish, this means "the advance". I think we are all beginning to feel at this point like we are making some great advances. Saturday night we had a planning and strategy meeting- probably the first one we have been able to have in the 8 months we've been here. Getting the whole group together once a week is challenging enough when most work until 8 or 8:30 every night and also have small children to take care of when they get home. Weekends are sacred days for families around here, so it's tough to take time on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon to get together for an extra meeting. However, we've begun to realize that God is doing great things in Mallasilla and there is quite a need for a church to open. This means that our avanzada team needs to move along and speed up the process a little- the biggest concern being that of finding a pastor. So on Saturday, we had a full agenda and a long night ahead of us. Although we had decided to bypass the customary dinner that would be provided by the host of an evening meeting, our team member, Mirta, decided to bless us and the moms especially (as Sunday was Bolivian Mother's Day), with a massive meal of homemade pasta and sauces of all types. Typical to every meeting, we started about 1 1/2 late and were interrupted partway through by a hot dinner, which inevitably wrapped up our discussion session. Even though we barely touched the tip of the iceburg in our time there, we all had a chance to share our feelings on who God had laid on our hearts to invite as interim pastoral leadership. Edgar Mamani is an elder and pastoral assistant at our mother church, and a fantastic preacher. He is from El Alto, and the lower class, but studied to become a lawyer and has moved a bit in the social hierarchy. Because of these two caracteristics, he can reach a broad range of the people represented in Mallasilla. Besides that, he is solid in doctrine, practical in his application of the Word, and a teacher that captures peoples attention and leads them into a desire to know God more. The feeling of the group was unanimous in their desire to invite Edgar to be a part of the team and on this Friday, Greg and Scotty will spend a half day with the elders, presenting our timeline for the new church and expressing our hopes for Edgar. It's an exciting time and we are all feeling that things are finally moving along and that the next few months will be packed full of study and prayer as we seek to follow God in His leadership.

Mallasilla Chalet

For a while now, we've been talking about naming our home in Mallasilla- a good, strong name that eloquently expresses our dreams and feelings about this place. Today, Scotty found the perfect name: In Quechua (one of the 2 native languages) it is called Pachakaya Upki. This translates: Chalet Cat Hair Everywhere. We've found that no other name would quite do justice to the state of our house- and our clothes for that matter. In this chilly city, we live daily in black fleeces, which we have found to be one of the most powerful, man-made cat hair magnets ever created. I think we might need to raise our support levels just to keep ourselves stocked with those little tape roller brushes that take hair off clothes. Scotty has found a new hobby in forming small, life-like creatures out of loose cat hair found in the linens or clothes, and has taken to selling them in the streets downtown. It really is working itself into a wonderful ministry opportunity...

House of Hope

I spent all day on Friday at La Casa de Esperanza- the House of Hope. This ministry reaches out to the prostitutes living and working in El Alto- the extremely poor, fastest-growing Latin American city that lies about 1000ft. directly above La Paz. Right on the main avenue is a simple brick building with 3 spacious stories where prostitutes, or those who desire to leave that line of work, can come to receive lunch, a place for their kids to play, and love. Although I know a couple girls who work in this ministry, I haven't previously had the opportunity to see the home. Today is Bolivian Mother's Day and so the ministry decided to throw a party on Friday. We were invited to help out with kids program, entertaining and loving them while the moms were blessed with a time of music, food, and laughter. A praise team from our church, La Comunidad, came to sing praises and encourage those who know him to do the same. Unfortunately, the majority of the women are not that far along yet, and mostly ignored the music. We had about 30 kids of various ages upstairs and enjoyed singing, making crafts, eating, and watching a video with them. I couldn't help but wonder if most of these kids knew their father, or even if their mothers knew who the father was. I silently prayed for them, asking the Lord to be the perfect Father that they will never have on earth. 500 women were invited and there were probably around 200 that were able to come. My directer friend told me that getting them out of bed that early (12:00pm!) was a challenge and she was impressed with the group that arrived. The women seemed to enjoy themselves immensely and I enjoyed a peek into the work my friends do as I asked questions about the House of Hope. It's a tough ministry, something you can be involved in for years and see little fruit. Most women don't want to get out or try for a little while and return. One of the women that they've been working with for years was murdered in a brothel last week. It's good to know, however, that there is a place of hope, and I trust that in God's goodness and his time, many women will find peace there.

Tag- I'm it!

My good friend Kelly, in Charlotte, tagged me a few days ago. I actually found it difficult to think of 8 little known things about myself that I actually wanted other people to know!

Here are the rules: Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1. My roomate in Cochabamba convinced me to try a cooked guinea pig leg that she had brought home from a rural town...claws still attached (and a couple strands of hair). Do not try this at home.

2. I was frequently mistaken for a little boy toward the end of my elementary years- that is not helpful for a little girls self-esteem.

3. I can pop my shoulder on command.

4. My favorite stuffed animal is a ratty, pitiful looking baby duck named "Chicky" that my brother bought for me at a garage sale when I was about six (I still have it).

5. It is physically impossible for me to turn away a piece (or 3) of birthday cake.

6. If I could choose to have a career in the arts and be endowed with a God-given skill for it, I would be a dancer.

7. I work sauteed onions into almost every meal I cook.

8. I have been spit on my a llama.

PS. Sorry if anyone is offended, sadened, or grossed out by the cooked guinea pig picture.

I tag:

Timara

Julie

Annette

Mara-Liisa

John/Michelle

Sara

9. I only have 6 other blogging friends that haven't already been tagged by someone else.

10. I don't know how to make my friends names be a link to thier blog...lame!

Lustrabotas

Llamas causing a traffic jam

A funny thing happened on the way downtown yesterday. We got on a busy highway that leads from our side of town up to the center. It was early morning and the cars were beginning to clump together a bit, leading us to believe it was only a result of work traffic. As we moved forward a little, we noticed a large herd of llamas trotting down the sidewalk with 3 herders doing their best to keep them out of the right-hand lane. Well, llamas obviously never learned the rules of the road because they kept wandering out in front of cars and generally causing chaos. It's a funny thing to see fuzzy llamas moving down the highway and even more perplexing trying to figure out where they came from and where they were heading- there aren't too many pastures or fields in the La Paz area...

So, our purpose for going into town was to meet up with a group of shoeshiners who are in the testing phase of a new tourism project. First, a little history on shoeshiners. Bolivia is littered with hundreds of these mostly young men (although there are some older men and some women) who spend anywhere from 6-12 hours on the streets a day to shine shoes for about $.06 per shine (whoa!). They tend to wear ski masks and hats- some say to block out the fumes from cars, but most admit it's because they are embarrassed of what they do for a living.

Me and Julie with our shoeshining friends.

There are a good number of kids who live on the streets that shine shoes, but most shiners are actually just trying to make a few bolivianos to help out their families or get themselves through school. They are looked down upon by the rest of society, often blamed for thefts on the streets, and according to Lonley Planet, are a general nusciance. We've had the opportunity to get to know a few guys through the ministry of our friend Randy, who spends time with these young men, teaching them about God and encouraging them to rise above the stigmas that are placed on them and make a way for themselves in the world. There is another NGO here that is also encouraging the shiners and supporting them in a new business venture that was birthed by Wilmer, a 25 year old shoeshiner who is determined to do something more than shine shoes all his life. His idea, and now the idea of many guys, is to invite tourist groups to come and learn about what they do. You are given a mask, gloves, old clothes, and a hat, as well as your own shoe shine box and materials. The guys demonstrate how to shine and then give you a chance to practice on them before you hit the streets, dressed anonymously as a Bolivian shoeshiner. As you walk, they explain the ins and outs of shining, joining specific associations that give you the right to shine in a certain area, and the average salary of a shiner (between $2-$5/day). Then, you split up, each person or small group of people having a shiner as their guide, and you shine shoes. Initially, I was intimidated by the people walking by, knowing that they were all usually in a rush, and lacking confidence in my new shining skills. But Ramiro, my guide, would send all his business my way and encourage me along as I shined. I gratefully received my first $.06 from the mother of the little boy whose shoes I had just shined, and my confidence and excitement grew. We sat on our tiny, wooden seats for a little while longer, chatting about the life of a shoe shiner, Ramiro's excitement for the new seminary class he just started, the home church that recently began meeting in his home, and his hopes for the future. He's 26 years old and has been shining for 13 years, always with the intent of helping contribute to his families needs, and now to help him finish college and continue with seminary classes. Most people look right through him when they walk by. I shined one more man's shoes before we got up and the official history tour began. Ramiro took me through the downtown area, showing me the well known plazas and sharing information on the government and different phases of Bolivia's history and culture.

Why is that big gringo shining shoes??

After a few hours of shining and walking, we met back up with Scotty (who makes one big, scary shoeshiner) and our friend Julie to head back to their office. We had a small wrap up session and put in our thoughts about how they can improve and then enjoyed a typical (huge) Bolivian lunch with the group and a bunch of other shoeshiners that come to shower and eat in the building. It was the first time I have ever been able to go out on the streets and blend in as a Bolivian..what a strange feeling!

Would you be able to recognize me?

I'm hopeful for this team that their project will be a success and a way of opening eyes to who shoeshiners really are. I'm grateful we had the chance to experience a few moments of life in their shoes.

Shining shoes in front of the plaza San Francisco

Mount Illimani

Illimani is the 2nd highest mountain in Bolivia, measuring 21,122 ft, and can be seen in all its glory on any clear day from La Paz. It is a mountain that commands awe from those who see it towering high into the heavens and holds legend in the minds of Bolivians and foreigner alike. May 1 is Bolivian Labor Day and apparently a very popular holiday around here (realized by us when we were serenaded by booming music a block or so away from dusk until dawn on Labor Day Eve). Since everyone has the day off, we hooked up with our adventurous friends James and Julie to take a drive out to Mount Illimani. I was praying for no clouds- they have a tendency to congregate right on top of the mountain, hence blocking our astounding view of the snow-capped peaks. We started from our end of town, weaving farther down into the valley, losing thousands of feet as we drove toward the mountain. The most exciting part of our trip was when we came to a river crossing and found a small Bolivian man running around in his underwear, attempting to free his car from the grip of the water and mud. Thankfully, our travel partners have braved many a river crossing much deeper than than one we were at and were able to encourage us in the ease with which we could take across our landcruiser. James first tested the depth by hiking up his shorts (at least he kept his pants on) and walking across to feel for large rocks. After we made it without a problem, we decided to test the winch on our car, which we've never used, in order to help our pants less friend (his wife sitting in the car looking less than pleased) make it out. We hooked on to his little Russian sedan and towed him to dry land. With a huge smile on his face, I asked him if he had crossed these rivers much..."All the time!" was his response with a laugh. "In that?" I asked, motioning toward his little, yellow vehicle. "Of course!" He then informed us that there was a deeper river just down the road and we could follow him so that we could pull him across that one too. Happy to oblige and enjoying the interesting stories that form along the way, we continued bouncing along the dry river bed to the second river. Here, a car had to enter a bit upstream, drive a few feet down the river, and exit on the other side. After successfully trying that once, we headed back into the river to hook ourselves on again. This time, we had to stop in the river, at which point our friend Julie noted that the car was starting to sink down bit by bit. This was slightly frightening to me, imaging nothing devastating happening, except the engine flooding and being stuck in this valley for a good long time until someone could help us out. Thankfully, we were able to attach ourselves in time and backed our way across the river with Pablo and his wife in tow. We exchanged handshakes and phone numbers at the end with Pablo's assurance that if we ever needed a mechanic (his profession), he was available to us. We continued on our way, climbing higher and higher to our destination. We finally ran across a small town where we decided to park the car, asked some young guys who were hanging out in the plaza if there was a hike to a good look-out for Illimani, and began our walk. It wasn't long before we came to a peak and found a great view of the mountain, although the majority of it was covered in clouds. We took the opportunity to snap a few pics of each other and then descended, all of us already tired from the 4 hour drive. The most memorable part of the trip for me was when we stopped to pick up a couple that was waiting on the side of the road for a bus. Country folk will take any mode of transportation available to get into the city. While we were loading their stuff onto the top of the truck, an elderly woman came up to my window to ask for a ride. I told her to jump in the back, but before that, she signaled to a group of others that none of us had seen, and they all came running down the road to hitch a ride with the gringos. Now there were about 7 trying to squeeze in the back seat of our car with their huge aguayo sacks, full and tied to their backs. We tried to tell them we only had room for 3, but they were already in and they weren't moving. Poor James, who was on top of the roof loading their stuff, was not left a space to sit. We asked them politely to get out, then we asked them a little more firmly to get out, than we told them we weren't going anywhere and started taking their stuff off the roof. "But there's only a few of us! We fit fine! We don't have that much stuff!" Oh boy! They only conceded to getting out of the vehicle when they saw their stuff sitting on the ground behind them. So, muttering prayers of thanks under our breaths, we continued on with the original couple and made it home with fun memories of a good day.