To Captivate

If you're looking for a compliment, you won't easily find one at the El Cristo Viene girl's home. Flattery is a waste of breath and words for these ones. Physical defects such as the large zit on your chin or the mole that sticks out on your neck are open topics for discussion...they're even willing to pop the pimple and pull off the mole for you. Weight is a popular target for chatter and nick names are more often created on the basis of some weakness, physical or otherwise, that you may have. One of my nicknames is "Palo" and that would mean "Stick".

After having my haircut and coloured in Cochabamba, I returned to the home and several girls made it very clear that they did not like my "nueva look". One girl began to call me "paja", which means straw and the rest highly recommended that I grow it long and one length. Let's just say that if you have self-esteem issues over your physical appearance, you won't leave our home feeling confident in your appearance.

I admit that I spend time each day straightening my hair and putting on make-up. I think about how I look through-out the day and will do an occasional check-up on the hair status. The hair review is essential. Fingers constantly rake their way through my hair during the day as the girls, in their habitual way of lice-checking, automatically search their neighbor's scalp.

People bug me about being too concerned about my appearance or spending too much time in front of the mirror. After reading "Captivating" (Stasi and John Eldridge), I realize that this is a current that runs through most women. We want to be beautiful. Those ladies who shun this idea have lost, in some way, the essence of their womanhood. We're not talking beauty as defined by Hollywood, your mother, or the loser kid who sat behind you in math class. It's a magnetic, drawing force that eminates from within a heart that is committed to her Creator. It is a recognition that although God names Himself Father and identifies Himself as male, that we are also made in His image. Those deep seated tendancies that guys like to dismiss as "Women!" are rooted in the One who made us. We like flowers, perfumes, and new clothes. Typically we want to talk things out and save friendships, guarding them like a heirloom without price. We are women and we have our quirks.

Captivate is the word that most stays with me after finishing the book. It's the title and rightly so. Our role as women is to captivate the people in our lives, particularly men. Not just boyfriends or husbands, but all men. Not just in a sexual way, but in platonic and philadelphia ways. As Christ dwells in us, we become more and more captivating to those around us. Females can be catty and downright nasty. We can be pushovers and withdrawn as well. What we are originally programmed to do is captivate. It's there, inside each one of us, somewhere. I love the line in Song of Songs that says, "You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride, you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes."

My sisters, my fellow bearers of estrogen, I encourage us to seek what it means for us to be more captivating...we will uncover it as we look for more of Christ. Men, read the book. If you want to get the females in your life, please, read the book.

The Womb of Dawn

"From the womb of the dawn you will receive the dew of your youth" (Ps.110:3). I crawled out of dawn's womb this morning but the dew of youth must have missed me, leaving me as dry as Gideon's fleece.

My cell phone crowed at 5am this morning. Seriously, the alarm clock cock-a-doodle-doos and I have no idea how to change it...my electronic ineptness is far reaching. The question is why was my cell set to awaken me when the only living thing that should be stirring at that hour are the roosters?

Every day at 5am, the girls slide out of their sheets and start their day with chores. This morning they tried to snuggle their way back into dreamland, but the evil gringa lady (me) peeled off their blankets and allowed the cold to drive them out their beds. If the chilly air wouldn't do the trick, the threat of icy water did.

I had no idea that I was going to be spending the night. I didn't even think I was going to be at the home yesterday. Upon arriving at church, Cleidy, one of the older girls, set the keys in my hand and told me I was in charge for the day. The workers take turns on Sundays and I have third Sundays...which is next week. Still, I agreed to stay. After a full day of mothering 26 girls, I was awaiting the return of Tia Eli. At 10pm, I was informed by a few chicas that the Tia wasn't coming back until the next day. A small detail that no one let me in on.

Anger flamed within me. I was the last to know something when I should have been the first to know. Blame it on Bolivian culture if you will, this oversight irritated me. It felt like someone was sweeping a cactus across the inside of my ribcage. With each passing, my annoyance level increased. The inner pricking continued for some time before I allowed myself to chill and relax.

Occasions such as these occur on a frequent basis in Bolivia. It is better to say that you are coming somewhere, even though you know for sure that you are not, then to reply in the negative. Calling if you can't meet a commitment is not necessary and there is no such thing as a "set time" in this country. The only thing set in stone is that the time and day of your appointments will probably change...at least four times...guaranteed.

For this reason, the best beatititude to have in Bolivia is, "Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not snap." Still, the next time I have to sleep over with the girls, I hope to have some advanced warning. Leaving the womb of dawn at 5am is a tad pre-mature in the day. A two day heads-up will help me prepare for the labourous responsibility of waking and preparing 26 females for breakfast and school. Until then, I'll be retreating back into the blankets, saving my greeting of the day for a later, more reasonable hour. Cock-a-doodle-do!

Being Frank on Being Single

There is a line by Don Miller that categorizes men as those who search for someone to complete their life and those who search for someone to join their already complete life. I'll just add that this same division splits the women. Since I'm being frank, I have to say that I'm not sure what category I would slide into. Most of the time I think I fall into the latter category. Years ago, I realized that no guy could ever satisfy me in the same way as my Jesus. After several painful experiences with guys, the love of Christ came and soothed my bleeding heart. It continues to assauge my inner aches and pains. No doubt about it, I'm good to go with just me and my Lord. On the other hand....

My journal records a day, not too long ago, when I was envious of two pigeons. Everyday there are two pigeons who roost on the roofline of our neighbor's house. It's like "their" spot. There they sit snuggling and preening themselves. A pair of blah birds concocting their own rooftop romance. Sometimes they perch on opposite ends and so it's not like they always have to be together. Other times, one will fly off without the other, but it never tarries to return. Somehow, they are always drawn back to each other. How can this cooing couple be so committed and dedicated to one another? Because they don't think.

They don't set themselves on a branch somewhere and debate whether the pigeon with the cute white feathers or the one with incredible green eyes is the right one for them. They don't care if he cracks his seeds with his beak or his claw or if the scraps get stuck in his beard. Their relationship isn't complicated with emotions and fears. They don't lie awake at night (or whatever birds do when they sleep) and worry about missing God's will for their lives. To exist is His will for them and by they their existence they obey their Creator. Yet, not one of them can fall to the ground with out the Father knowing. He feeds them and follows them as they flirt and fly. So, how much more valuable am I?

There's no way I'd want to be a pigeon, although it would be fun to frequent parks and poo on people's heads, and besides, how do I really know that it's the same pigeons together all the time? No, it's definitely better to be single and human.

So, yes, I am the oldest and I am still single. Am I o.k. with that? Most of the time. Do I want to get married someday? Of course...I think. Until then, Psalm 102:7.

My Eager Expectation

A determined group of indigenous people have shut down a major highway and are fighting to reposess land taken from them by the whites. The strife has created a tense atmosphere and the newspapers can't get enough of the story. The stand-off has endured for months and has been the cause of concern for many local residents in the Caledonia, Ontario area.

Conflict reminiscent of Bolivia is taking place in a town twenty minutes from where I grew up . Rich, persuasive people, usually of European descent, taking advantage of a poor, disadvantaged sector of persons, usually of native origin. My mom told me of this showdown between some of the reserve Indians and a landowner who is building on their property. I laughed loudly, immediately recognizing the irony that the "dangers" of living in Bolivia are the same ones that exist in Canada. It might have something to do with a universal sinful nature that has no regard for skin colour or ancestral background.

It seems as if the trend of trampling Latin countries by world super powers is slowly coming to a halt. The red light to foreign input and influence is blazing bright as a force labelled the Pink Tide crashes over South America. The Pink Tide is the wave of leftist leaders that are sweeping across the continent and gaining momentum as they join forces against foreign influence, particularly the United States. This tsunami is breaking over Bolivia as well.

This past week, President Evo did the unthinkable and actually followed through with a campaign promise. No one thought he would do it, but he came into Bolivia's gas reserves backed by the army and with much fanfare declared that his country's gas fields would be nationalized. The atmosphere was that of a national holiday. There have also been rumours of an announcement which will initiate the removal of all land owned by foreigners so that it can be given rightfully back to the Bolivian people.

Land is the source of endless contention. A person will forfeit his life for the sake of tierra that by rights is theirs. As we complain and holler about who owns what piece of the property pie, the land itself renders it's own petition. The whole of creation groans as in the pains of childbirth, yearning to be liberated from it's bondage to decay. This world was made subject to frustration by landowners who pursued their own will instead of God's. (Romans 8:20-22, Genisis 3:17-19)

In Canada and Bolivia, Caledonia and Santa Cruz, you will find discontent and the potential for disruption in the ranks, especially amongst those who feel demoralized. Roadblocks and uproars come with the territory. The future is opaque except for one clear circle in the middle. Take a peek. It's the glory to come, the redemption of our bodies, and the freedom attached to being a child of God. For this I wait in eager expectation!

Life with Al

9pm, too early to go to bed, what to do, might as well blog, about what? Karina a.k.a Kara a.k.a.

AL

For 19 years old, this fellow Canadian hailing from B.C., has proven that age has nothing to do with maturity...well, almost. Her commitment to God and honest insights have convicted me and caused me to review my own faith on frequent occasions. Her running commentaries on the homes and Bolivian culture are refreshing, but mostly just stinking hilarious.

A cold weather system moved in to the area a couple of weekends ago while we were visiting the home Nacer. Bed space was limited, so we shared. One night she hopped in bed and jumped back out. I asked her what she was doing and she said, "I'm getting the flannel, Marge." To which I responded,"Great, I get to sleep with Al." Henceforth, she has been called Al and she calls me Marge...it doesn't matter why she calls me Marge.

Now, I realize that many of you may not have found the previous ancedote that funny, but Al will be literally delighted to see this blog...or she may literally shake me by the shoulders and literally swear at me in Spanish. She literally uses the word "literally" 30 times in every conversation, I never exaggerate.

One of the problems that comes with learning a second language is that your first language suffers. You start to forget words or replace them with Spanish ones. Doubts over pronounciation and spelling increase. The making up of words, when you are at a loss for them, is not uncommon. One ends up speaking two languages (or three if you count Spanglish), but neither one very well. Maybe this is the excuse we can make for Al's rather unusual prayer not so long ago.

It was the team's last night and we were sent out for 15 minutes with explicit instructions to pray alone and to be quiet. Al and I opted to pray together but still intended to be reverent. We began to pray specifically for people and as Al started to pray, she said with deep passion, "O Gord, we fall at your teeth." Certainly she meant to say, "O God/Lord, we fall at your feet", but something got lost in the brain to mouth transit. Meanwhile, I was thinking "gourd" and envisioning this large, squash deity with dazzling dentures. Needless to say, the sancitity and solemness of the moment was lost.

Al goes back to B.C. in less then 4 weeks. I'm hoping she can sneak me in her suitcase, maybe hide me under her hideous plaid flannel shirt...customs wouldn't go near the thing anyway. Bolivia has been blessed to have her here. She will be missed by the guys and girls of the homes and by Marge. May God's face shine upon you Al!