Evacuation thoughts: Part one.

Killing time in the Orlando airport on our journey home.

We returned home to La Paz in the wee hours of the morning today.  For those who only follow us from afar, we evacuated our beloved home on Nov. 14th after almost 3 weeks of mostly peaceful protests and a handful of days of intensely scary counter reactions after the president, Evo Morales, resigned.  More on that later.

After leaving Orlando yesterday, as we approached our first lay-over in Lima, Peru, I started to feel that familiar anxiety crawling into my heart and threatening to settle there.  Am I really ready to go back?  The time that we were away was restful and good and so many gifts from our kind Father were given in that time.  But, when we left in the dark hours of the morning, neighborhoods and stores were barricaded, angry people were acting out without restraint on the streets and general chaos reigning. Those memories have a way of resurfacing.  So, as I sat in the quiet dark of the plane, I prayed that the Lord would remind me of how He had protected us last time.  How He had given us a place to retreat to.  How I had survived, by His grace, harder things before.

This time, as we drove through El Alto after leaving the airport, there were no mobs of people, no barbed wire and burning tires.  The twinkling night lights in the bowl of La Paz beckoned us back.  The worn, simple brick buildings looked like familiar and comforting landscape.  The same signs and billboards, the bumpy streets, the tight curves, the highly perched buildings all felt like coming home.  It felt right and good to be in this place that has held our lives and our hearts for so many years.  We haven't been released from our ministry here and the Lord has woven our stories into those of our community in a profound way that can't be untangled and forgotten because of a period of turmoil that sent us running.

So, today we see our house with eyes of gratitude again.  This home the Lord has generously given us to raise our family in and to welcome in the broken souls (like us!). I still have much to process, and will probably do some of that here.  I wasn't sure how I would feel when I returned and I'm not sure how I'll handle life if things become tumultuous again, as they very well could.  But for now, I'm resting in God's sustaining grace.

Day 30: It happened.

I woke up early this morning and decided to spend a few minutes in prayer before I grabbed my phone and scanned the headlines- something that has consumed a lot more of my hours each day than I'd like to admit.  It felt good to focus my heart on what is true before I was confronted with other peoples' perceptions of reality.  Then, I read the news.  Oh, it was heavy.  The last few days have brought more violence and nerve-wracking possibilities than I was ready for.  Before I even went downstairs to get a cup of coffee (you should never read the news before coffee), my heart was heavy and fearful.  I mentioned that to Scotty and he felt the same way.  I contacted several people I trust to ask for prayer and Scotty and I also prayed before heading off to church.  These days, I am appreciating the local body in new ways as we can band together in uncertain times and remind each other when troubles come of Who is in charge and Who has all the power and dominion.  The mood was so somber when we walked in.  There was palpable tension in the air.  We spent time in prayer, time worshiping and a message reminding us who we are as God's children.  It was refreshing and soul-reviving. 

After church we had some teachers over for lunch.  The kids loved having guests and it was nice to unplug from the news for a bit.  After they left, we saw on the news that our president was about to resign.  What??!!  This was pleasantly unexpected.  Sure enough, 10 minutes later, he and his vice president were on the air announcing both of their resignations.  Oh, the rejoicing!!  The country flooded the streets with celebration- flags, horns, dancing, chanting!  It was beautiful.  It was what I was hoping for on my Day 30 post!

But, it didn't last long.  Texts and news posts dropped immediately warning everyone that until the resignation is accepted by certain leaders in the government, it's not a sure thing.  Now, there are riots and looting happening in certain parts of the city as government supporters react to the news.  Emotions are running high. 

We pray and we ask for God's mercy and we choose to leave ourselves in His hands.  What else can we do?

Day 29: Division and Unity.

It's hard to put into words the things I'm seeing and hearing around me.  On one hand, the violence in all 9 departments (states) of Bolivia is increasing.  There are more clashes between pro-government groups and all the others who are asking for the president's resignation.  A lot of those riots are filled with the passionate, idealistic, brave youth of this nation.  One of those, a 20-year old man, lost his life in Cochabamba yesterday.  The other side probably has some people who are fighting for what they believe is right, but there are also many who are being paid by the government to show up and be aggressive.  What started as the majority of the country unifying to protest a fraudulent election and the desire to see democracy reign, has now been turned into a class war by a president who has convinced his supporters it's because of racist motives that there is opposition and push back.  What Evo Morales was able to accomplish in giving voice and rights to the indigenous people has now been flipped on its head.  Now, anyone who is not on Morales' side is claimed to be a racist and hater of the "real" Bolivian people.  It's heart-breaking to see, but it's nothing new to this country and maybe has been just under the surface for a long time, waiting to boil over with the right provocation.

On the other hand, I see the church uniting.  The more the country is breaking apart, the more I see the church clinging to each other and to our Almighty God, who alone can repair the damage done.  I joined a small group of men and women from all backgrounds and social classes last night at the local market to pray and worship God.  What an incredible picture of the way we become one in Christ, brothers and sisters in one family.  The barriers are torn down in our own hearts when we finally have eyes to see the heart of God and the compassion He has on a hurt and broken nation.  All over the country, the church is rising up to join the spiritual battle that is raging and we know that there is no help or hope outside of God's hand moving in this time.  So, we fervently pray for that.  For justice; for no more lives to be lost; for reconciliation; for peace.  Maybe my Day 30 entry will be the one where we can proclaim the victory!

Day 28: Pot-banging and more.

I'm 2 days away from completing my 30 day challenge of blogging!  Too bad it took more than twice as long as it was supposed to...

What does it look like for Bolivia to be in a time of turmoil?  Well, there are many answers to that question, but I'm going to stick with what I've seen so the answer will be more personal.  A few snippets of my life in the midst of protests:

- No school.  Although my kids have had a few days of school, since the elections, there's been more school cancelled than not.  This means groups of people have blockaded the streets that will get you much of anywhere and so we stay home.  Some days are great and the kids are happy and playing legos and being the best of friends.  Some days we are all suffering from cabin fever and stepping on each others' toes and grousing a lot.  So. Much. Tension.  The last couple days they've had school, only about 5-6 of their classmates show up cause parents are too worried about what they might come across on the way to or from school.

Besties! (Sometimes)

- Pot banging at 9:30pm.  This, apparently, is a south American way of peacefully protesting.  At 9:30 every night, those who are against the current government take out metal pots and bang them with metal spoons.  The first couple of nights this was supposed to happen, it was all quiet where we live.  There's quite a mixture of those who are for and against in our neighborhood and I think those who wanted to bang pots maybe hadn't gotten the nerve up yet.  However, I went outside armed with my largest pot and waited.  It was pretty disappointing.  I hear it every night now, but the excitement for me has worn off and I stay inside.

- Odd traffic patterns.  One day I really needed to get down to a fruit and veggie market and I heard things were pretty chill.  After picking up Moses from school, we drove down into the main part of La Paz that is closest to us (we live in a suburb of La Paz) and made it almost to the market before noticing the intersection was blocked.  I hopped onto a side road and followed the other cars who were driving against traffic to try to get where they were going.  After buying some stuff, we came out onto another road where a march was just starting.  I quickly dodged the crowd by driving through a gas station and got my car out onto the street right in front of the first marchers.  Then, I drove home watching cars carefully driving down the wrong side of a major street, crossing the wrong way on one-way roads and heading down ramps that you are only supposed to go up.  It was a bit chaotic, but thankfully, there were few people on the road and everyone was aware that all normal traffic patterns were to be thrown out the window when blockades are in effect.

- Social media saturation.  I'm a part of more WhatsApp (messaging) groups than I'd care to admit.  Most of them are through the church and the school and are the main ways information is passed.  During a time like this, those groups are absolutely saturated with comments, opinions, announcements, etc...  Because we don't have cable or TV antenna, the main source of our news is either on Facebook or the Bolivian newspapers online.  Facebook is exploding with posts, reposts, videos, memes, political satire, arguments, frustrations, etc...  My mind swirls as we try to make sense of it all.

- Protests.  We've been to a couple blockades and marches.  We've specifically chosen ones we knew would be peaceful because we were taking the kids along.  It is pretty amazing how easily you can be swept up in the flag waving, jumping and shouting and the pride one feels in fighting for what is right, even knowing that the result of all of this will never affect me in the same way it would affect a Bolivian national.  Although I mourn for what Bolivia is passing through right now, I believe it will be an incredibly important part of their history and so I'm grateful to be here to be a part of it.

- Sad stories.  My hair stylist told me about how sick her mom has been lately.  She found her passed out on her bed one day, barely breathing and explained how she had a doctor friend who lived nearby whom she thought could help.  He sadly explained that because of the protests, the clinic where he worked hadn't gotten its normal shipment of oxygen and they would have to try to find somewhere else to go.  With the doctor driving and the sick mom and daughter in the back, they had to cross at least 6 blockades where each time they had to beg to get through so they could get the woman to a hospital.  She made it, but barely.  I'm sure she's not the only one with a story like this.

So, that's life right now.  Thankfully, despite the rumors, we have water and we have food.  Where we live we are pretty removed from the most heated of the protests.  The kids are calm and have not felt any danger.  We have prayed more together as a family and collectively as a church than in a long time.  The church in Bolivia has crossed normal barriers to unite in a cry to almighty God who alone can work wonders in this situation.  There is prayer and worship in the streets.  He is definitely at work in all of this, in many more ways than we can see or imagine.

Day 27: Protests.

I received a whatsapp message notifying me of a blockade in our neighborhood at the main roundabout.  I gathered the troops in my house, fed them, and moved them out the door.  Democracy is a cause we can get behind and we wanted to show our support.  Although we don't have the privilege of voting for president, the actions of the current government will affect our lives here and we know this is a turning point in Bolivia's history.  So we started to walk to where blockades take place but noticed a few blocks away that the streets were completely open.  I felt incredibly disappointed in my neighbors and wondered where everyone was.  We met up with a neighborhood friend and spent an hour or so at the park talking while our daughters rode their bikes and then she got a text: We're at the roundabout down the hill.  Yes, finally!  Here is the blockade I was hoping for.  We stowed the bikes and hiked down the main road, walking past disgruntled drivers sitting idly in their trucks, not able to continue down this one road that leads up to where we live and down into the city.  It's really the only road snaking up the side of the mountain and the blockade was keeping traffic on both sides from progressing.

There was a crowd with flags and banners and ropes tied across the street.  We joined the small throng and were happy to greet various people we've met in the neighborhood over the years, families who are part of our school and people who attend our church.  The kids sat on the ground and gratefully accepted soda and chips and sandwiches that were passed around with a good will by those who were participating in the strike.

Natty and Jubi stood up to join in singing the national anthem, scream-singing with the rest at the part of the song that swears, "We will die before we live as slaves again!" Bolivia certainly knows what oppression is and they are not ready to sit down and fall victim to it again.  It was a beautiful thing to be a part of.  Although we will never know what it's really like for this to be our reality because of our privilege of being able to up and leave if things get too bad, we were thankful to be accepted into the mix, showing our support for this country that we love and for these people that we know God has good things for.  We are praying for this good, knowing that God's good can sometimes look different than what we hope or expect, but knowing that He will always be faithful.

Day 26: What happens next??

At lunch today Moses prays:

"Dear God, Thank you for this day.  Thank you for our family.  Thank you for our food.  Please don't let Evo cheat.  In Jesus' name, Amen."

So, we got the message last night that there'd be no school today.  Natty and I went out as early as we could to do my weekly market shopping where I buy our week's worth of fruits and veggies.  I had heard that a march was going to be coming our way and wanted to get out and back before the only road up to our house was full of marchers.  The women selling produce were surprised to see Natty out of school- there's not much that would cause Bolivian public schools to suspend classes, except a strike by the teachers.  But at Highlands, we are pretty careful if it looks like things are heating up, especially because there are a fair number of students who live around the areas of town where strikes and riots often happen.  The kids had already gone to bed when we found out there was no school, so they were ecstatic to have another "strike day".  Strike packets had been sent home so the kids would be able to continue a bit of what they are currently learning at school. While the sun is shining in a perfect blue sky, we are hunched over our screens reading the constant WhatsApp messages exploding our phones and keeping an eye on the local newspaper online for anything new.

After lunch, I noticed a news article that explained the OAS (Organization of American States), who began working with Bolivia to try to resolve the discrepancies in the voting process, officially declared that the best next step would be to enforce a run-off.  Have you heard of the OAS?  Me neither.  Wiki tells me that they were founded in 1948 for the purpose of strengthening democracy, working for peace, defending human rights, fostering free trade, fighting the drugs trade and promoting sustainable development.  So, we got a little piece of news in the right direction and now the question is, Will the president agree to the run-off?  We're pretty sure he won't.  So, we try to remember who has the ultimate power here and remind our kids, too.  We had a time of prayer together this morning as a family and want to maintain that attitude of absolute faith in the One who turns the hearts of kings and men.

P.S.  Here is a more complete article of what is currently happening.

Day 25: Political Unrest.

4 months after I arrived to Bolivia as a naive 23 year old, my boss called our apartment one day and said, "Have a backpack packed, you might need to get on a plane today if things get ugly."  It was October of 2003 and once again, the nation was heating up politically.  The current president was receiving enormous pressure to resign and if he didn't do it on his own, the opposition was going to force him out.  And that's just what happened.  There's obviously a lot more to the story than that, but all I knew was that it was adventure time!  Food for the Hungry, the NGO I worked for, decided we would be safer in Lima, Peru than in Bolivia.  So, off we went to Lima where we had an all-expenses paid vacation!  After a few months living on the outskirts of the relatively small town of Cochabamba in one of the poorest countries in South America, I was ready to get some Starbucks.  Lima did not disappoint when it came to first world attractions and food- I think I gained about 10 pounds in those couple of weeks we were hanging out there.  I got to see the Nazca lines and visit an oasis in the desert and do lots of shopping.  And I had a vague sense that back where my job was, tanks were rolling down the streets and riots were happening and there wasn't enough food.  The reality of that would not hit home until many years later when I spoke with Bolivia friends firsthand who were directly impacted by that tumultuous time.

So on Sunday, Bolivia held presidential elections.  Evo Morales has already rewritten parts of the constitution and given himself an extra term in office (among other things), even when the nation voted against it.  I won't pretend to understand all the finer points because I am woefully uninformed, but I do know that there has been very obvious fraudulent activity regarding the election a couple days ago.  At first count, Evo and his most serious opponent were close enough in the polls to warrant a run-off in December.  Yesterday, it was declared that Evo's lead was large enough to cause him to win the election outright.  Because of much evidence to the contrary and a lot of unexplained discrepancies that would give him that advantage, the country is once again in an uproar.  This time, I am following it all a lot more closely.  I sat in bed last night and watched live feeds on Facebook from leaders around the country calling for honesty and democracy and the run-off to take place as it should.  As often happens when things heat up enough, lines at the gas stations get longer and folks hit the markets to stock up on food.  They know what could possibly happen and how to prepare.  I'm asking myself for the first time- should I be doing this, too?  I've always felt far enough outside the issues affecting the country that it hasn't felt like it applies to me directly.  I'm definitely making a trip to the grocery and the gas station today.  Stay tuned and please pray.  Democracy and the future of this country is as stake if this government continues in power. 

Day 24: Happy birthday, Zion!

Nine years ago today, our second child was born into the world- 10 weeks early.  I'll paste the first blog I wrote after Zion was born below and remember what it was like in that joyful, but mostly uncertain time:

It's hard to believe I'm back home while my baby is 30 minutes away, fighting to remain stable. My favorite part of the day at the clinic was when I could shuffle or be wheeled down to the elevator and ride a floor up into the neonatal nursery to see my son. I enjoyed the beeps of his monitors, assured that as long as I heard the rhythmic beeping, my son was still breathing. I liked to hear his doctor tell me that he was stable. I didn't like to hear him tell me (as he did several times) that he caused him suffering last night or made him age 10 years (when his lung collapsed). But I loved to wash my hands, warm them up under his heater and grab a tiny arm or leg and start talking to him. He's mostly sedated at this point and has a couple tubes coming out of his mouth and had one coming out of each side keeping air moving past his lungs. They usually have his eyes covered with some type of bandage and keep little cotton puffs on his feet to keep them warm. But, he's still adorable and one morning I was able to see his whole face uncovered and noticed immediately how much he looks like his daddy. I would talk to him about Natalie and the kitties and what we would do when he comes home. I would tell him to get strong fast and not to forget that when Mommy and Daddy aren't around, God is right there with him. I read him one of my new favorite Psalms (105) and sang "Jesus Loves Me" to him ("Little ones to Him belong; they are weak, but He is strong). I tried not to cry a lot. Today he seemed more responsive to our touch and voice, jerking his little arms or legs a bit when we would caress him. As much as I did not care for the clinic I was in, I would have happily stayed in his nursery room until he was ready to come out. We were distracted as we drove home today, so I didn't have much time to think about the fact that we were leaving our baby behind, but as soon as I got in the door and looked around, home just didn't feel right without Zion in it. I didn't know where to start. Since I was on bed rest for 9 days, and then recovering from a C-section for another 3, a shower sounded nice, but I couldn't manage to bring myself to do anything for a while but sit on the couch and stare into space. How could something so familiar and normal suddenly feel so out of whack? My thoughts keep drifting back to my little guy- his chest being forced up and down by a ventilator, his cute little perfect toes, his adorable nose being stretched a bit to one side from the tubes, his somewhat transparent skin. The last couple of weeks have definitely taught me how to pray and how to recollect my thoughts to the truths of who the Lord is when they start to wander to those dark places. Not one day has gone by where I haven't felt God's presence, even in the midst of despair, sadness, fear and pain. I know we have a long road ahead and even now I have a hard time trusting that our baby will be OK. I've read the Bible too much and known too many amazing Christian people who have gone through tragedy to believe that God's perfect plan is always the one we would choose for it to be. But, I continue to trust that He will sustain us, our son, our faith and prove Himself good. His promises are the only firm and unchanging things in my life.

Day 23: The one with the middle schoolers and power tools.

Watch your fingers, girls!

So, Scotty is both the middle school Bible and science teacher at Highlands.  He didn't study to teach science, but has an inquisitive mind and an appreciation for helping kids understand the world from a Biblical perspective while enjoying how the subject lends itself to more creative teaching techniques.  One such teaching opportunity came today.  I rolled in to pick up the girls after school and saw that a bunch of middle school students were scurrying around the back patio area like little mice with black and neon green gloves on.  I knew this had to be the work of Scotty Miser.  Highlands was at one time a brick factory and this particular part of the school is still a wonderland of bricks, random brush piles, cement stairs and platforms.  In other words, the place where every 6th grader wishes they could be during school hours.  Some kids were picking up branches, others were picking up garbage and then a lucky few were using a power circular saw.  Now, for those of you who have middle school kids, have had middle school kids, have ever been in the presence of middle school kids or were ever a middle school kid, you might cringe, cover your eyes and shake your head when I put the words "6th grader" and "saw" in the same sentence.  However, rest assured that Scotty has given comprehensive instruction on power saw safety and is standing by every moment of its operation.  But, as a mom, I think there's a mental reflex that happens when you see tweens handling power tools.  I asked one boy what he was doing and he happily answered, "We're cutting fire wood for the hike!"  Then I realized that all those other kids working together in groups were also inventing new and fun ways of creating fire wood.  Scotty calls this "Creation Care Wednesday" and it is such a fun way to teach the kids how to recycle, take care of the earth (sometimes they collect garbage around the school grounds) and generally value this incredible resource of Earth that the Lord has given us.

Another thing I think is so fantastic about working at Highlands are things like the hike that the one boy mentioned.  In a couple weeks, every willing 6th-8th grader will head out into the mountains with my husband and a couple other teachers.  A few years ago, they discovered a hikable trail behind a nearby mountain where they can drive, drop off the troops and then pick them up a town or two over.  The spend the night in the wild outdoors and for the vast majority of the these kids, it'll be the first time they've ever hiked, slept in a tent or spent so much uninterrupted time out of doors.  The struggle is real, but it has become one of the things most elementary students look forward to as they think about becoming middle schoolers (cause, let's face it, middle school can be rough) and I know Scotty loves the opportunity to connect with the kids outside of the classroom in a more relaxed and enjoyable way.  This will also prepare them for the 2 Incan trail hikes they'll have the opportunity of doing when they reach high school.

How fun is our school?!

Day 22: Moses.

He's into ALL the superheroes these days.

Moses turned 5 last week.  With him, there have been days and weeks that felt like an eternity and yet it's hard to believe he's such a big boy already.  There have been so many challenging phases in his development, as there are with all children, but some of those phases have brought me to the point of utter exhaustion and despair.  However, as usual when we look back, we can see the way God has done a redeeming work in us and in our situations.  I just want to take a moment to process through some of these glorious things the Lord has done in my son's life, to celebrate him and to remind myself:

Moses can now sleep through the night in his own bed!!  I had seriously given up on this ever happening and wasn't even trying to work towards it.  For the last 4 years, he's started the night in his bed and either been brought to ours our come on his own at some point in the night.  Not anymore- hallelujah!!

Moses is attending school from 8:30-12:30 every day and (mostly) loving it!  The teacher says he is helpful and independent and plays with everyone.  We have definitely seen his fear ramp up in the last few weeks because of the transition, but he goes every day with his sisters into the campus, says good-bye and usually has a smile on his face.  This is a big deal, especially because it's still a challenge a lot of times to leave him at home with someone other than us.

He can empathize.  This might not sound like a huge deal, but it is.  Sometimes kids who have a trauma history don't quite make the connection between their behavior and the affect it can have on others.  I mean, even non-traumatized kids (and adults) can struggle with this!  So, when he sees one of his sisters hurting and he looks at her with concern on his face and gives her a hug- it gladdens my heart.

He can make good choices!  I've mentioned self-regulation on the blog before: the idea that we have certain skills that are naturally developed to help us control our emotions, behaviors and thoughts.  Again, this is an area all children have to mature in, but it is an especially difficult one to master when there is a trauma history. (Trauma history is about 100 blogs in and of itself and one that I'm still learning about.  There is so much brain science to come out in the last 10 years to help us understand what is happening neurologically in our children and if you're interested, I could try to summarize some of those ideas in another blog) Moses has learned how to delay gratification, accept when I have to say "no" to something he really wants, compromise so that we can both be happy and communicate with his sisters when they are doing something that bothers him.  Wow!!

Apart from developmental advances, we love what a funny and smart boy he is.  He loves to tell jokes and make us laugh.  He gets so excited about things and his joy is contagious.  He still loves to sit and read although he'd rather play Avengers with you.  He loves talking to God and often tells me when he gets scared at night, he tells God jokes.  He's sensitive and sweet and often informs me that I'm a good mommy (except when I'm "mean", which is also somewhat often) and that's I'm pretty.  He looooves having people over and showing them his stuff.

So, these are some of the big things.  What an incredible journey it's been learning how to understand our child and find effective ways to nurture him and equip him with the tools he needs to succeed.  I am truly grateful.

Day 21: Ferry boats.

When you drive to Copacabana on Lake Titicaca, there is a point at the straights of Tiquina where you need to drive your car onto a ferry to shuttle across the water to the other side.  For many years, the government has wanted to build a bridge across because the distance really isn't very far and it would greatly improve the experience of the many tourists who travel there on a daily basis.  But, the community has strongly opposed the idea, as ferry boat operator is the main income of many families in that town.  These ferries are a sight to behold.  They look like they've been slapped together out of old boards that were found in a scrap heap and don't even have a solid bottom for the car to drive onto.  There are slats that run horizontally that hold a couple long planks that run vertically for the cars and buses to drive onto.  They usually squeeze on three cars or one bus and one car and every time you hold your breath as you watch this wonder occur.  How they don't sink is a mystery to me.  I had to drive up onto one of those things by myself one time and I might have aged a few years in the process.  Especially because when you reach the other side, you have to back off of those planks onto the other narrow, movable ones that connect your ferry with land. 

We love to get out of the car when we puttering across and get whipped in the face by the frigid wind.  At that point, I'm guessing we're at least 13,000 ft. above sea level, so it's always cold.  You can feed the ducks and sea gulls if you have some bread with you and take in the general splendor.  My favorite part is watching the man who operates the boat grab his bucket and start bailing out the water that he's taken on over the course of the day.  One has to question where that water is coming from and if at some moment the entry point of that water isn't going to burst open resulting in a very cold swim.

Why am I telling you all this about the ferries?  Well, some of you may be wondering after a few slightly despairing blogs I wrote how I am doing.  It's a cheesy analogy, but I feel sometimes like that ferry boat.  I'm in good working order, even though a few minor repairs have to be made along the way.  Sometimes I'm taking on water again, at risk of maybe starting to sink, but I pick up the bucket and start tossing the water and continue moving forward.  Mostly, by God's grace, His peace is once again reigning in my heart and mind and He leads me one foot at a time while we continue to walk by faith and not by sight.  We're still not sure where the boat is going, but we know we'll get there OK.

Day 20: Titicaca

Well, I've officially failed the 30 day writing challenge but I'm going to go ahead and attempt to finish out these last 10 days.  Starting with...

Our Family Trip to Copacabana!

We're going on a road trip!!

Can you tell I love family trips?  We feel strongly around here that getting outside of the every day routine and making fun memories as a family is super important- I mean, who doesn't?  So, using Moses' birthday as an excuse to get away, we took Friday off of school and hit the road.  One of the blessings that makes this possible is a beloved family that lives in our old apartment one street over who have a son Natty's age that we hire to come feed the cats and dogs.  I'm always thankful to have friends who live nearby!  So, here's a few special things we always look forward to when we do family vacay: the kids get to eat sugary cereal, bedtimes are more flexible, more treats, no agenda, souvenirs, movies, special places to stay.  For our family, getting away means relaxing and not pushing a lot of activity into our day.  It also means foods that Mommy and Daddy would normally not allow.  And, we always try to find somewhere cool to stay since we will be spending a fair amount of time in that place doing a lot of nothing in particular.  This time, Mommy totally scored with The Snail.  

This place was so whimsical inside with beautiful views of the stunning Lake Titicaca from the round windows.  There were plenty of beds and best of all, a yard with hammocks.  The hammocks would have been the highlight of the trip, but there were only two and the kids kept fighting over them.  They were still pretty great.

Another highlight: alpacas- the nice ones and the evil ones.  The nice ones lived next door and you could feed them puff cereal and dig your fingers into their thick fur.  

Nice alpaca.

The evil ones lived on our hotel grounds and tried to bite you every time you walked by.  And, they were usually not tied up and would often wander into our yard and look at us menacingly from outside our windows, daring us to come out.  We didn't like them and I had to slap one in the face one time, but they added some spice to the trip.

Bad alpaca wants to bite my face.

The last time we went to the lake, we camped in a tent on a random piece of land outside of the city that belonged to a man we met that day.  Moses was two.  There were no bathrooms.  There were hailstorms with loud thunder and lightening in the night.  You can imagine how relaxing that trip was.  This time, since the kids were bigger and we weren't challenging them just by lodging in nature, we decided to push them to hike the stations of the cross.  This hike is up a pretty steep hillside and is a place where some people go to seek the favor of God, Mary and the Pachamama all at once.  Therefore, there are vendors selling sacrifices and amulets and shamans waiting to perform whatever ritual you need.  

Candles lit on at the top.

The hike is strewn with garbage, an unfortunate pattern in a lot of natural wonders in Bolivia, and reeks of incense.  Although there was much grumbling and complaining at the beginning, I think the kids got into it on the way up.  By the time we got to the top, Jubilee and Natty were feeling a certain amount of the spiritual darkness and were ready to head back down.  Moses seemed content to have made it all the way to the top.  I prayed with the girls as we walked and reminded them that we carry the light with us and have nothing to fear from the darkness, also reminding them that this is the reality for a lot of people who live in the place they call home.

Not a bad view of Copacabana from the top of the hike.

Other high points from the trip worth mentioning: taking out a swan paddle boat (well, this was a Donald Duck boat to be specific) that caused one of my girls great trepidation and led us to turn back early;

Some of us enjoyed the paddle boat.

riding across the straights of Tiquina in the famous well patched and worn wooden ferries that don't look like they can hold us and that giant tour bus (but it did); 

We're riding the ferry and not sinking!

cats that lived on premises;

 a delightful, tiny sandwich shop run by a local Brit; 

Waiting for sandwiches.

family church time on a private rock beach outside of town.  

So peaceful!

It's back to normal today, but we are so thankful we had some time away to rest, reflect and enjoy each other!

Intermission

For all my faithful readers out there (thanks, Mom!) who are wondering where I've been for almost a week- the killer combo of a head cold, Moses' birthday and preparing to teach women's Bible study has kept me otherwise occupied.  Other women more powerful than I could have also blogged, but my brain space is limited and my creative energy easily run down.  So, stay tuned.  Maybe tomorrow I'll have something to say or maybe I'll even blog from the beautiful and serene Lake Titicaca where my family is going to spend the weekend.  I feel more relaxed just thinking about it.

Either way, I'll be back.

Sorry- couldn't help the reference.  Also, who knew terminator movies kept coming out well into the 2000's?  

Day 19: Disappointment

Apparently I haven't had any interesting thoughts for a couple of days...

So, I started a new book last night called It's Not Supposed to Be This Way by Lysa Terkeurst.  I'm only on Chapter 2, but I found so many good nuggets in the first chapter that I've decided to blog up a fake interview with Lysa so I can share them with you.  The subheading on the book's cover explains the main idea: finding unexpected strength when disappointments leave you shattered.

Lisa: Thanks so much for being with us today, Lysa.  I've already been so encouraged by the first chapter of your new book.

Lysa: My pleasure! And, can I just say I've been loving your blog and the way you bring us into the big and small things of your world.

Lisa: Oh, you're so sweet!  Let's just jump in, shall we?  Something I really resonated with in the introduction of your book is how you explained that we, as humans, are very attached to outcomes.  Can you explain that idea a little for our readers?

Lysa:  Well, I found along the way that I was trying so hard to control what my life looked like and the people who were part of my life.  Without realizing it, you can imagine this perfectly crafted idea of what your life should look like and how it should turn out at the end.  Maybe that could be getting a good education, finding a great, godly spouse, having 2.8 beautiful children who never get sick or misbehave and happily living to the end of your days in a beautiful home surrounded by love and free of major setbacks.  When things are going well, you praise God for His goodness, but when things begin to unravel and life takes a sharp turn or two along the way toward heartbreak or illness, you question God's goodness and purposes.  We're pretty set on things turning out like we want.

Lisa:  That totally makes sense- I do this all the time!  And, as you go on to explain, this can lead to debilitating disappointment.  I thought your definition of disappointment was so simple, but spot-on.  Can you share that?

Lysa:  Well, I've defined disappointment as a feeling that things should be better than they are. And the reality is that we can trace this feeling back to the Garden of Eden.  Before sin, we had a perfect, beautiful place to live that met all our physical needs.  We had an unblemished relationship with our Creator, who met all our emotional and spiritual needs.  And, for a short time, man and woman even walked in perfect harmony together.  When sin shattered that picture, disappointment was created.  Now nothing would ever be as good as that again.  So, we still live between that Garden and the future, renewed Garden- that space of time when we will inevitably look at everything and everyone around us and wish it could be better.  

Lisa:  Wow, that sounds depressing!  What do we do with this reality??

Lysa:  Ha!  I know, right?  Well, there's some good stuff here.  The truth is that my feelings and my faith will almost certainly come into conflict with each other.  The wrestling with disappointment in yourself, in the people you love and in humanity is real, but there's a grace disguised there.  It's so easy to look to these loves to satisfy us when there's really only One who can completely satisfy and never fail us.  When these lesser love leave us wishing for more, we find that it is then we see our need for our Savior and perfect Father.  Only then are we really free to recognize Him for all that He is for us in Christ.  

Lisa:  Man, this is good stuff.  How 'bout we pause here and give our readers a chance to think about what we've shared.  I know I could use a few minutes to sit with these ideas.  Maybe we can talk some more tomorrow?

Lysa:  You just let me know, Lisa.  Until then, thanks for reading!!

(Thanks for taking time to read a made-up conversation. I hope I've expressed some of the real Lysa's perspectives and thoughts and that she'll never read my blog and be terribly annoyed.)

Day 18: The one where Moses throws up.

My (not-so) perfect children.

Yesterday was Natty's 11th birthday!  She requested to stay home from church and be together all day as a family, so that's what we did.  After a delicious breakfast of her choice (crepes with berry compote and whipped cream), we went outside and jumped on the trampoline, played musical chairs, pin the tail on the donkey and other old-school party games.  The party games were totally an afterthought, but it was a blast!  We have a lot of taller homes that overlook our yard and I wondered if our neighbors were getting a kick out of us dancing around the circle of chairs and fighting over them during musical chairs!  Natty had chosen trout for lunch, which is not something we ever eat at home.  Moses and Jubi were not thrilled with the choice and by the time we had all sat down, Moses in particular had convinced himself this was going to be the worst lunch ever.  Which he made sure actually happened by commenting every 30 seconds about how disgusting and yucky the fish was- except for he hadn't tasted it yet.  Natty, meanwhile, sat at the other end of the table growing more and more unhappy as her siblings' bad attitude affected everyone's moods.  After much annoyance, Moses finally ate one bite of fish, but couldn't seem to get it down.  Before we knew it he was gagging and finally threw up part of his meal.  Well, that was the final straw.  Natty ran off crying (she hates seeing people throw up- shocker, I know) and I got mad at Moses for not thinking about how his actions were affecting his sister (even though I knew that kind of empathy is quite underdeveloped in a 4 year old).  Lunch ended messily and then we all had a few minutes to ourselves to regroup.  The afternoon was consumed by watching The Sound of Music (Natty's choice), which all my kids managed to sit through! 

Ironically, this picture was in the Curious George book we read after lunch.  Moses pointed out the fish falling from George's mouth and said, "That's what we had.  It was gross."  Duh, we know.

Why do I tell this story?  Well, from a neighbor's window, they might have seen a happy-go-lucky family who spends time together and is all smiles.  From the pictures I post on social media, you might think we get along famously and never lose our tempers with each other.  I know I've thought this about countless others who only share a neatly curated slice into their lives.  We all know it to be true, but I thought I'd put it out there in print.  My family is blessed- we love each other, we play together, we laugh, we dance.  But, my kids argue a lot.  I lose my temper when they annoy me.  Even Scotty and I disagree and frustrate each other (I know you can hardly imagine it to be true!).  So, when you're having one of those days when you've failed as a person, remember you aren't alone, there will be better days, and we have a wonderfully patient and merciful God.

Day 17: Family sub-culture.

This picture has nothing to do with this post, but I took it on Friday when I went to buy fresh trout for Natty's bday and thought it was too fun not to post!

I had the worship music up loud this morning as I washed dishes.  Partly because I wanted to hear over the running of the water and partly because I needed a loud voice to remind me of the faithfulness of God.  Natty came in and said, "Who turned the music up so loud?"  I responded that it was already up that loud when I put it on, so I just left it as it was.  Her unexpected and very perceptive response was, "Oh, you must be in a good mood because usually you come in and say 'Turn this music down- it's too stimulating!!!'".  She imitated me with a funny voice and her arms swinging around, which I'm pretty sure I don't do.  But, I had a good laugh about it and was interested that she had picked up on something we've learned with Moses about how certain situations or noises can be overly stimulating to him and cause melt-downs.  I'm pretty sure I've explained that when I'm stressed or upset, noise seems to be the thing that will push me over the edge the fastest.

We all create little sub-cultures in our homes with our habits, what we spend our time doing and what we talk about the most.  I love hearing my kids pick up phrases that we use a lot- it helps me understand that they are, in fact, listening to me and absorbing some of the messages that are important.  On a good day, I might hear Jubilee ask Moses for a compromise while they play- a technique we learned he would especially benefit from as a way to "share" control and avoid a lot of power struggles.  Something kids who have had to learn that the world is not a safe place can often employ.  I've tried hard to teach the kids that instead of retaliating or coming to tell me about every single thing their sibling does to annoy them that instead they can use the script, "When you do _____, it makes me feel _____."  Natty has been putting that one into practice more and more these days.  And Moses never fails to surprise me with his knowledge of the Bible and his ongoing desire to go to heaven so he can be with Jesus.

I've always wanted to be an intentional mom with how I raise my kids and what I speak into their lives.  I often feel like it's pretty hit or miss or that maybe they're picking up more on my own sins and bad habits than the good things.  So, it's rewarding when you recognize that the message is finally getting through and I pray that the faith Scotty and I live out before them will speak loudest of all.

Day 16: Yes, I could. (A continuation from Day 15)

Yesterday I had a question- could I leave Bolivia?  Today, I got an answer! If there was a problem, yo! I'll solve it.  Ok, so the answer didn't come from Vanilla Ice...it came from the Lord!  He's so awesome like that.

I've been reading through the gospels slowly in the last few months.  Today, I was on Luke 12.  Let me just show you three things that encouraged my heart regarding my questions, doubts, fears and general unsettledness.  In verse 22 Jesus is telling his disciples that they are worth more than the ravens and reminds them how well taken care of these birds are, despite them having far less value than God's children. "And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest?" (v. 25-26)  Great questions, Jesus!  I suppose I shouldn't be because you've just told me you're going to take care of my families needs in every way! 

Then He goes on to tell us that so greatly do we need not worry, that we should be willing to sell everything and give to those who have need.  "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." (v. 34)  Is my treasure in my comfort, in my home, in my routine, in my community, in my long years in Bolivia?  None of those things are bad or wrong, but, if I value that above letting it all go for the sake of Christ, my heart is in the wrong place.  In fact, that would be an idol in my life.  Whoa, good word. 

Earlier in the text, Jesus tells a parable of a rich man who has stored up all his possessions and is now kicking back to enjoy the fruits of his labor.  But then the Lord comes and calls him a fool for not being prepared and for laying up treasure on this earth.  I sure don't want to be called a fool by the living God!  But, have I not done this for myself?  Have I not laid up all these sweet Bolivian treasures and am in a sort of kick-back mode?  To be fair, I don't live like this all the time, and I believe that our family has been "rich toward God" (v. 21)....but, it is a temptation to fall back on all that.

So, I stopped about 3/4 of the way through Chapter 12 because there was already so much there that God used to focus my eyes again on the things that matter and it was enough.  He is enough.  Could I do it all over again?  Yes, by the grace of God, I could.

Day 15: Could I start over again?

The gift of community,- past, present and future.

Will you bear with me while I let my thoughts seep randomly onto the page for a moment?  In the last 10 months, I've had to consider more than once the possibility that we might have to leave Bolivia and it's especially present in my mind at the moment.  Like with a lot of things, my desire to keep mental tranquility outweighs my desire to really contemplate something for very long, so blogging can be a helpful way to force myself to dwell a little longer on an unpleasant topic. 

Bolivia is my home.  We've lived here as singles and as a married couple for 16 years.  We started our family here.  We buried a child here.  We've experienced all the ups and downs any normal young family goes through, surrounded by a beautiful missionary and church community that can remember our hard days and the good days.  We've been part of starting a church and seeing it grow and thrive.  We've built a house.  We've mastered how to pay bills and where to buy meat and how to do things in a bank and how to drive and all the stuff that new people struggle with that we hardly think about anymore.  This makes me feel good.  It makes me feel safe.  It takes away a certain amount of unwanted stress.  I feel kinda bad that this is one of the reasons I don't want to leave here- it's comfortable.  As a missionary and an American living outside of my own culture, comfort has become an evil word.  Americans are too comfortable and don't understand the plight of the poor.  American Christians are even more wayward by being comfortable and not sacrificing for the needs of millions who live without the things we take for granted.  At least, this is my perception of things and has some truth to it.  So, I feel a certain amount of guilt for being an American and a missionary who is- gasp!- comfortable!  Scotty told me that we've put in a lot of years to earn a certain level of comfort.  Now, I'm not talking material comforts- although that plays into this scenario, too.  I'm talking the comfort that those of you who have ever lived overseas understand that involves knowing a place so radically different so well that it no longer feels so foreign.  That feeling makes me happy.  Do I put too much stock in that feeling? 

There is some pride in all of this, if I'm honest with myself.  I like knowing things.  I like speaking Spanish fluently.  I like having the answer to newer foreigners questions.  I like feeling like the things that might shock or surprise them aren't surprising to me.  But, again, it's one of those things that makes the idea of long-term life here viable.  I still have plenty of questions I ask my Bolivian friends.  Do you think it's OK that the gymnastics program is run this way?  What doctor do you take your kids to?  Should I pay that extra fee or not? 

So, I guess in all this, I'm wondering if I could do it again.  Live the crucible of getting to know a new set of people in a new culture with new norms.  I could say that my level of comfort probably didn't kick in until a good 10 years were under my belt.  Can I do another decade of hard-core learning?  Would it take that long this time?  I'm not as young, not as naive, not as prideful (I hope) as I was.  Will God ask us to uproot, because the truth is, we are so very planted here.  Time will tell.

Day 14: Top 14 things I love about La Paz.

And now for a more superficial post.  For those of you who are interested in knowing little things about living in La Paz, I have compiled a list, in no particular order, of some things I love about living here:

1. Tiendas.  Every block or so in a residential area (and maybe more in the city), there are little neighborhood stores.  You can't go inside, usually, but you can stand at the gate and ask for anything your heart desires.  They might have it.  Fresh bread, toothpaste, spices, milk, wine, fire crackers, tomatoes, soda, candy, dish soap, etc...  These places are tiny but they are packed full of goodness when you don't have time to drive to a grocery store.  And, every señora and her kids will know the exact price of all 1000 items available.

2.  Station attendants pump your gas for you.  For free.  You don't even have the option of doing it yourself.

3. If I buy a gift at a store, they'll gift wrap it for free!

4. Mountains.  They are everywhere!  Some are red; some are green; most you can climb (if you're brave).  Some even have snow a good part of the year!

5.  Cheap dry cleaning.  Now, I don't wear a lot of fancy pants clothes, but recently my cat peed on my good, wool jacket and Scotty bought me a shirt from India that needed washing.  I took them to the dry cleaner and paid less than $3 for both.

6.  We can drive from 11,000ft. where we live to the jungle in about 2 hours.  It's still mountainous jungle, but that means there is the benefit of it not being so crazy hot, along with obligatory jungle stuff like bugs, monkeys, fruit trees and coffee plantations!

The jungle!

7.  You can show a carpenter a picture of a piece of furniture and they'll make it!  Like our bed we saw in a Pottery Barn magazine.  And our girls' loft beds, our bedside tables, bathroom vanities, closets, etc...

Super old pic, but shows our bespoke furniture.

8.  Telefericos.  These cable cars are new within the last few years and they are awesome.  Short cuts to just about everywhere without having to be down in the crazy public transportation vehicle that is braving bad traffic and stopping every 30 seconds to pick someone up/let someone off.  It's a fantastic way for tourists to see the city from a calm cabin swinging peacefully above.

Teleferico date with Jubilee!

9.  Blue skies.  If it's not rainy season (Dec-March), there are blue skies.  Every day.  It's heaven.

Blue sky!

10.  Culture.  Now, this could be a post all by itself, but I love that there are traditional clothes, traditional dances, traditional foods that everyone knows and loves and participates in.  Hundreds and hundreds of years of tradition that does not change and makes Bolivians who they are and why they are so united, despite their individual differences.

11.  Llamas.  They're all the rage in the US, I hear.  If we drive outside the city, they are roaming all the fields and countrysides!  They are even cuter in person.

We got llamas!

12.  Healthy, Andean plants - quinoa, amaranth, maca, moringa, tarwi (Andean lupine-it's a thing), chia, flax and so much more!  They grind it, put it in cookies, make drinks from it.  It's so easy to find and it's so cheap.

13.  Which brings me to fresh produce.  I'm sure I've mentioned this in many posts before, but it deserves another salute.  Every Wednesday I drive to a market about 15 minutes away and buy 3 big, overflowing bags of fresh fruit and veggies.  It's not as cheap as it used to be, but it's still pretty darn reasonable.  I also buy all my dry goods there- raisins, nuts, fried plantain chips, fresh ginger, fresh garlic.  And eggs.  And sometimes, used clothes (cause why not?).

14.  Cheap movie theater!  We don't get out a lot/we are really picky about movies, but when we go, there's the V.I.P.  Plush recliner seats, grouped in pairs with a table in between if you want some food delivered.  And, on Wednesday, 2 of us can go for just $8!

There you go!  You're welcome.

Day 13: Sorry, Bolivia

I read a really convicting blog today on Amy Medina's website, here.  She works in an international school in Tanzania and has lived there for many years.  Her thoughts are mainly geared toward how missionaries can sometimes have blind spots about where they work and how they work. You could pretty much just replace "Tanzania" with "Bolivia" and it would be about the same.  I'm gonna paste her blog here and pretend like I'm cool enough to have a guest writer today.  :)

Dear Tanzanian friends,

You know that feature on Facebook that says, "You have memories to look back on today?" I click on that notification hesitatingly, because more often than not, I wince at what I see. Oh my goodness--I used to write the most ridiculous things on Facebook. I guess everybody did, but many of my old posts reveal the ethnocentric, immature attitudes I had in my early years in Tanzania.

Complaining about electricity. Complaining about bugs. Complaining about dust. (Meanwhile, hoping that my friends back at home would realize what I saint I was for putting up with these "hardships.") Having a "white savior" mentality. Poking fun at the "amusing" things I saw in your country, many times arrogantly implying that, given the circumstances, I could do things so much better. Pointing out a lot that was wrong, and not enough that was right.

Ugh. How did you put up with me? Or, now that I know better, I should ask, How do you put up with me? Since I probably haven't changed as much as I think I have.

I was chatting with a Tanzanian co-worker (and friend) the other day, and we got onto the topic of missionaries and money. Even though this friend grew up around missionaries, she was fascinated to hear about how missionaries receive financial support from churches in their home countries. "I think a lot of the Tanzanians at Haven of Peace Academy have just assumed that you were getting paid more than we are," she told me. My jaw dropped to the ground, because HOPAC doesn't pay missionary teachers at all--we get a housing stipend, but not a salary. I immediately felt sick to my stomach. How many of our Tanzanian friends, for how many years, have assumed that we are getting rich off of their country?

Because here, though we live on support from back home, we are rich. Western missionaries in African countries live in this weird place where in our home countries, we are considered poor (like, churches invite us to use their food pantries which are for poor people), but when we are in Africa, we are incredibly privileged. Just the fact that we own a car and a couple of laptops and have the money available to fly back and forth between countries puts us in the top one percent wealthiest people in the world.

We wrestle with this tension all the time. But the truth is, as much as western missionaries come to Tanzania with this idea that we are "sacrificing" to be here, we really are vastly richer (both in money and opportunity) than almost all of the people who live here. So I can't imagine how annoying and condescending it must feel to you when we gripe about insignificant things that you have contentedly lived with your entire life.

We must seem pretty wimpy.

But that's not all. We came to your country with our own ideas about what you needed, not bothering (for a while, at least), to even ask you what you did need. We assumed that you needed us, without considering that we actually needed you even more. We had strategy meetings where we didn't include you; we wasted time and resources because we didn't ask for your help. While we were still figuring that out, you loved us anyway.

One Sunday at our African church, the pastor preached a message on the importance of missions. We were technically the only "missionaries" in the room, though I understood the message as a call to the whole congregation to be involved in mission work. Nevertheless, after the service, an African woman who I didn't know came up to me with an envelope of money. "God bless you for your service," she told me. I was speechless. It remains one of the most humbling moments of my life.

Then there's the problem that missionaries can be cliquish. Missionaries tend to gravitate towards each other, to friendships that are familiar and easy. A Tanzanian once told me, "The missionary community is hard to break into." I don't blame you for being hurt or offended by that. It shouldn't be that way. And yet, you chose to be my friend anyway.

I'm sure there are some of you reading this who would want to remind me of the good things missionaries have done in your country. You tend to be incredibly gracious. I'm not writing today to make a case for burning down missions. I'm not saying that my time here--or that of my fellow missionaries--is a waste. But there does tend to be an aura of sainthood that surrounds missionaries--both here and in our home countries, and I've had enough of that.

We are weak. Sometimes we are idiots. Sometimes we are downright arrogant and ethnocentric. Coming to that realization is really good for us, and should make us more effective.

We love your country, and we love you. Thanks for loving us, being patient with us while we learn, and gently helping us to see things from your perspective. We are so thankful for God's grace and your grace as we live out the privilege of being missionaries in your country.

Sincerely,

Amy


P.S. I write for A Life Overseas, which reaches thousands of missionaries and expat workers all around the globe. I would love to write a piece that contains insight and constructive criticism from locals in communities that have received missionaries. If that's you, would you consider writing to me at everyoneneedsalittlegrace@gmail.com with answers to these questions? I won't use any names, so feel free to be completely honest.