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. Memorable
Moments
God isn't confined to the inside of church walls. He loves
us so much that He really never takes His eyes off of us.
As I go through my days with the Lord, He constantly manages the events
of my day in various ways. Sometimes
He injects wonder, humor, and sometimes challenges into what
otherwise might be what we would think
of as "ordinary" days. I've recorded some of those extra-ordinary
moments or days (or longer) for encouragement,
for wonder, for learning, or just for your enjoyment. I know that
God is working in your life, too, and you have
your own collection of moments from the Lord. I hope you are
blessed by these memories.
You can email me at
leonakarni (at) yahoo.com
[click on a title to read that memory]
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Morning Coffee in Las Vegas:
Desert mornings are full of
life
Las Vegas lies in an arid basin
surrounded by dry mountains. The Spring Mountain range runs Northwest
and Southeast along the side of the city to the California border.
Within the recesses of the rocks are numerous springs, thus the name.
The area around the patio where I have my morning coffee with the Lord
is rocky and dusty with typical desert vegetation and wildlife. On
these early pre-dawn mornings in July, it has been in the low 80’s with
a gentle breeze, making it very pleasant to drink hot coffee, share my
heart with my true love, and watch the sunrise.
This morning a brown bird,
larger than a sparrow with a longer beak and a dark mustard colored
breast, sat near me perched on the fence. “Good morning,” I said
quietly, expecting him to take off at the sound of my voice. Instead he
bobbed his head and stared at me. “Good morning,” I repeated. At this
he jumped down closer to me; I actually thought he was going to come
over to my chair! Instead he snatched up a worm with his beak and flew
away. That was obviously his interest! A family (I assumed they were)
of quail made their appearance as the gray dawn began its transition to
a rose hue. The quails were short and fat but they moved gracefully
about in search of insects for breakfast.
The Roadrunners are my favorite
to watch; they not only greet the morning, but they continue to appear
off and on throughout the day. They are long legged and are in the
cuckoo family of birds. Roadrunners are about 22 inches long and weigh
less than a pound. They have a busy crest, long thick dark bills, dark
tails, heads, and backs, with pale necks and bellies. Each of their
feet has four toes, two face forward and two face backward. Roadrunners
walk rapidly, and can run up to 20 miles per hour. My love for this
strange creature began many years ago. My daughter Sara, who was then
16 years old, bought me a necklace that had a silver charm of a
Roadrunner. I loved the necklace and wore it almost constantly, until
it was lost (very sad). I have since tried to find another like it to
no avail. Instead, when opportunity allows, I watch the real thing (and
think of her).
The Jack Rabbit is another
character I get to observe on these early mornings. On this morning I
have only spotted two. They were originally called Jackass Rabbits
(because of their long ears), but their name was shortened to Jack
Rabbit. They are about two feet tall and weigh about 3 pounds. I
watched them as they enjoyed a breakfast of grass, plants, sagebrush and
cacti. They are so funny when their ears stand at attention because
they have heard something. Then, they either dart away, or decide that
whatever the sound was, it was not threatening and continue to munch on
the morning’s selection of desert cacti.
On some mornings coyotes make
their way down from the mountains, and wander within my view in search
of prey! A few years ago, when there had been a severe drought, I would
see several on any given morning. A few of them were astonishingly
big—more the size of wolves! On this morning in July, there are no
coyotes.
Desert mornings are full of
life, and the color is spectacular as the sun appears in various shades
of red, and or purple before turning gold. The dark mountains act as a
dramatic backdrop for this glorious show. The performance each morning
is different: always incredibly beautiful, but never exactly the same.
With the full appearance of the sun, the show ends, and my daily agenda
(whatever it may be) begins—the splendor of this morning will give way
to the business of the day…until tomorrow when the Lord and I will again
meet for coffee.
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Traveling with Dee:
Life has never been simple
“I have some bad news,” Dee announced as she seated herself at the
table. We sitting were in the Yellow Rose restaurant in Iquitos (Peru)
owned and operated by a Texan who had married a Peruvian woman and
settled there. “Can it wait until we have eaten, and return to the
hotel?” I asked. Reluctantly, Dee agreed that it could, and my
attention turned to ordering lunch.
There were eight in our group; we had come to Iquitos to do a
conference at Calvary Chapel. Each afternoon we would dine together in
one of two restaurants, chosen by Albert, our host. The food at the
Yellow Rose was pretty good, and reasonably priced (an important
factor). The most popular selection among our group was the alligator
nuggets: bits of alligator were dipped in batter then deep fried, and
served with French fries—umm good!
Half way through lunch, Dee could no longer contain her “bad news”
and informed me that, although in fact, her flight to the states was on
Thursday (as she had told me), it departed at 12:30am, which meant
check-in was around 9pm on Wednesday evening. We were not scheduled to
leave Iquitos until 6pm Wednesday evening! The flight to Lima was one
and a half hours; so in a perfect world, we would arrive at the airport
at 8pm. There would not be enough time to travel by taxi to my apartment
to pick up Dee’s other suitcase, and then taxi back to the airport.
Needless to say, at this point, the alligator nuggets were not setting
well on my stomach!
Life has never been simple for me: plans always seem to change when
I least expect it, so my active little mind attacked the problem at
hand. We need to get the suitcase from my apartment to the airport,
so Dee can check-in when we arrive in Lima, I reasoned. Then I
remembered, I had a stack of things piled in my bedroom that Dee was
going to carry back to the states for me. Oh well, I need to forget
about that happening. Dee’s other suitcase (she had two check-in and
one carry-on) was with Jasmine. I could ask her to take it to my
neighbor Denise (second floor), and ask my other neighbor Melinda
(across the hall) to take the suitcase from my apartment to Denise,
also. Then I will ask someone from the Bible College to bring the
suitcases to the airport. With all that worked out in my head, I
emailed Denise and Melinda.
In the meantime, Dee was trying to get the airline to change our
departure to an earlier flight. We had the least expensive tickets,
which meant NO CHANGES POSSIBLE so, we were at the mercy of the airlines
(and airlines are not known for their mercy).
With all of that more or less settled we finished the conference,
visited the church, and went up the Amazon to a village where Albert had
a children’s program. Upon our return Dee learned that the airlines
was, in fact, merciful and had booked us on and earlier flight. We would
now arrive in Lima at 4:30pm (in a perfect world). When I returned to
the hotel, I was able to quickly check emails; there were others waiting
to use the internet, so I had to be quick. There was an email from
Denise, “There were two suitcases in the lobby the other morning, when
we went to work. At the time I had not read your email. When we came
home they were gone,” she wrote. I, of course, was not concerned
because our plans had changed and Dee’s suitcase had not been delivered
to my apartment. Since there were others waiting for the internet, I
did not respond to Denise’s email.
The next time I checked emails, Denise wrote that the two suitcases
had mysteriously reappeared and that she had taken them up to her
apartment! Unknown to me, the story in Lima unfolded in this manner.
The two suitcases that Denise now had in her apartment belonged to the
mother-in-law of the apartment owner, she was going to travel to Mexico.
At around the same time Denise was taking the suitcases to her
apartment, Melinda returned home from the grocery store with a boy who
was carrying some of the bags for her. Since they would only be going
up to the third floor to deliver the bags, and then she would be coming
back down, Melinda did not lock the front door or the outside gate (a
very big no, no). While she and the boy were unpacking the groceries,
the owner came out into the lobby to discover that his mother-in-law’s
suitcases were gone!!!!! He noticed immediately that the doors were not
locked.
Meantime, on the third floor, Melinda hears this “wailing”. Of
course, she had no idea that it was the mother-in-law who thought her
suitcases have been stolen. The wailing became accompanied by someone
pounding on Melinda’s door. It was the owner, and he was irate that she
left the doors unlocked, and he shouted at her in Spanish (which Melinda
did not understand)! Finally, after an eternity of verbal abuse, but
understood emotionally, Melinda realizes he is yelling about suitcases.
Throughout all this, the wailing from the first floor continues and she
calls Denise. Of course, we in Iquitos, had no idea of the drama being
played out in Lima over Dee’s suitcases!!!
The next bombshell Dee dropped was after we were in flight to
Lima. Bear in mind, this is mid-air and there is not a thing I can do
about this latest piece of information! “Maybe when we are at the
airport, I can get my seat assignment to Texas,” Dee stated. I just
stared at her. This can not be what I am thinking it is!
“Didn’t you reconfirm your flight?” I asked, fearing her answer. “I
didn’t know I had to,” she replied. My thoughts were gripped with
panic!!! Most international flights need to be reconfirmed within
seventy two hours or they cancel your reservation!!!! As calmly as I was
able to manage, I explained this to Dee.
“Well, I didn’t know that, how would I know that?” she asked
defensively. “You said you have traveled internationally before,” I
responded through clenched teeth, while my very active imagination was
factoring in this new information. Worst case scenario she doesn’t
fly out tonight. I hope this is not a busy time for flights to the
states. If all flights are full, I have no idea when they will put her
on another plane. Well, maybe she can still get a seat tonight. For
the rest of the flight, I tried to take my mind off this turn of events,
to no avail!
Jasmine met us at the airport; we arrived at 5pm instead of 4:30
(not a perfect world). I explained the situation to her, and she tried
to get Dee checked in for the flight, but the airline Dee was flying
with didn’t have a representative available for several hours. Jasmine
drove us to my apartment. She still had Dee’s other suitcase, so she
went home to pick it up and bring it to us. In the mean time, I spotted
a mutual friend (a strong young male) who was visiting Melinda. I asked
him to carry our suitcases up, and carry down Dee’s large suitcase that
was in my apartment. Jasmine and I both tried to contact the airlines,
but they did not answer.
At this point, the pressure is building, time is running out, and I
fear Dee will not be able to get on the flight leaving that night.
Calm down, I told myself, but myself would not listen!!!!! When
Jasmine arrived back with Dee’s other suitcase, I grabbed the keys
(lying on a table where I always keep my door keys), and ran down
stairs. The key would not work in the lobby door! Wrong keys! I ran
back upstairs, grabbed the other set of keys (without looking) and ran
back down to open the door.
This key did not work either!!!!!!! Now I am in a panic and unable
to think straight. Jasmine is on the street with the suitcase waiting at
the locked gate, and my keys aren’t working!!!!! At this exact panicked
moment, the owner appears and I accuse him of changing the lock while I
was gone. “No, the lock has not been changed,” he assures me as he
holds up his key, “My key works,” he concluded. “Well my key doesn’t
work; the lock has been changed!” I cry out in exasperation! Finally,
he opens the door, and someone (I cannot remember who) carries Dee’s
suitcase upstairs, so she can empty out the Arts and Craft supplies, and
pack the things she is carrying for me.
While Dee was busy with that, Jasmine and I got online to try to
confirm Dee’s flight. Our worst fear was realized, Dee’s reservation to
Texas had been cancelled, the reservation from Houston to Las Vegas was
still on, but she had no reservation from Lima to Houston!!!!
Dee and I, along with her suitcases, piled into a taxi and headed
for the airport, a trip that usually took a half an hour. But on this
night, it took us an hour. You can imagine the tension as the minutes
ticked away.
Once at the airport, I left Dee in line for check-in and went to
find an airline representative—to no avail. When I returned to Dee at
the check-in counter, there were agents setting up the counter for the
flight. I tried to talk to one representative; she was not very helpful
and just instructed me to wait in line. While still standing in line, I
spotted the wheel chairs (Dee has a handicap sticker), so I arranged for
Dee to be wheel-chair assisted; this put her in the front of the line,
and the first to be checked in. There was a seat available, and since
she was in a wheel chair she was given an aisle seat (which is what she
wanted). I accompanied her through the check-in to the elevator, then
entrusted her (and her carry-on suitcase) to the airport wheel-chair
representative!!!!
Thank God, the comedy of errors had ended! I returned home by
taxi, and collapsed into bed!
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Mornings in Jamundi:
The serenade of the bird chorale
Usually it is still dark when I have my coffee with the Lord. I
set up my coffee-maker the night before so that by the time I brush my
teeth and wash my face my coffee is done. The rich aroma of the
Columbian brew wafts through the house beckoning me. Methodically, I
pour a cup and carry it upstairs to my room where I share coffee with
the Lord. By the time I finish my reading, mediation, and intimate
discussion, the darkness of night is reluctantly being subdued by the
rising sun, and I am greeted by the birds’ choir.
A yellow-breasted winged wonder flies past my window and perches
within view. His wing span is brown, and he has a black head with a
white stripe running along the side. Suddenly, his attention is
diverted, and he departs as quickly as he arrived. However, there are
so many more in flight to enjoy—gracefully playing with each other, and
perched picking at unseen nutrients. Many pause from their activities,
as if they intend to be admired by me. To my utter delight, there is a
variety of colors and sizes among their ranks. This morning I notice a
beautiful fire-engine red-bodied, black-headed visitor, and again today,
I saw the yellow birds. Among them there were some with an orange head;
I assumed they were the males: as the males are usually the most
beautiful in the animal kingdom.
While enjoying the serenade of the bird choral, I hear an
occasional mooing of unseen cows, and I can see the horses exercising on
the other side of the river. Nearby I notice a yellow bird perched next
to a red bird, and I wonder if the birds’ songs are universally
understood by all avian acrobats. By 6:30 the activity begins to slow
down. The early bird has caught the worm, and returned to nest. A
horse drawn cart arrives, and the driver, a strong young man, begins to
cut the tall grasses on the rivers edge. It is time for me to turn my
attention to the day stretching before me. Reluctantly I rise, bidding
goodbye to this magnificent morning comforted by the reality that there
will be many more throughout this coming year.
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Visa Venture:
The over-zealous clerk and the cattle car
The seemingly endless visa venture began on January 30, 2008. I
drove up from Vegas to Long Beach. Rita, one of my dearest and oldest
friends, lives in Long Beach, and she agreed to take me into the
Peruvian Consul in Los Angles. This was to be a simple procedure,
taking one month. In theory, the paperwork would be completed before I
left for Peru (March 30), and I would get the necessary residence stamp
in my passport in Los Angles prior to that departure.
Most countries require a residence visa for anyone who will be
working in their country. Since I am teaching at the Bible College, and
at churches, I need to have a resident visa. Kind of like the Green
Card the USA issues to foreign residents.
My efforts to obtain this visa were thwarted from the onset! On
the morning of January 30th, on the way to the Consul, I had
to stop at a Kinkos to make an “exact copy” of my passport (to be
presented to the Consul in LA). The clerk at Kinkos denied my request
stating that it was illegal to make exact copies of passports, and
therefore, he could not do it. After much discussion, he agreed that I
could break the law myself and make the copies.
With much difficulty, I figured out how to work the very modern
copy machine and was retrieving my copies when a shrieking voice broke
my concentration, “Are you making copies of your passport?” she
demanded, then continued to shout, “You are breaking a Federal Law
(words emphasized). You can’t do that. You are breaking the law!”
Well, far be it for me to break a law, but the Consul wanted an
exact copy, and it was my passport. On impulse and in fear that
she would snatch my precious copies, I grabbed them and ran from the
store. Rita was waiting in the car, and I encouraged her to get moving
fast before the over-zealous clerk came after me, or worse yet called
the Federal Police!
By the time we pulled into the parking lot in LA, I had calmed down
enough to begin to put the papers in order. It was then that I realized
I had left my passport in the copy machine at Kinkos! I had been so
afraid of losing the copies, I had left the original!!!! (There must be
a spiritual lesson in there).
I called Kinkos, yes they had found the passport and yes, they
would hold it for me, and no, they had not called the police!). The
process that morning did not require the original passport, so after a
two hour wait, I was able to complete the forms, and pay a $15 fee. Of
course, the next stop was Kinkos to pick up my passport; then on to
FedEx to overnight the forms to Peru.
As I was organizing the forms, and checking the list of what was
needed to be sent, I realized that I had missed one of the instructions
on the list. It required another trip into LA to the consul!!! Rita was
gracious and took me in again the following morning. Then we went to
FedEx and I sent off the forms ($70). In theory, the paperwork would be
completed in Peru, and I would make one more trip into LA for a stamp in
my passport, which would enable me to get the necessary resident visa.
In reality, the paperwork was not completed, so when I arrived in Peru I
would need to make a trip to Chili for the stamp, but everything would
be okay, it was just a little change in plans.
Calvary Chapel Bible College, Lima, Peru, has staff that take care
of all the paperwork and office visits in regard to visas for the new
missionaries. I would check with Mesod (the Calvary staff) on a regular
basis, and on a regular basis he would assure me that my paperwork would
be completed soon. At first I was not concerned. I knew I would need
to make a trip to Chili, and since I had just arrived in Peru, I was in
no hurry to take an 18 hour bus trip to another country. Upon arrival in
Peru I had received a 90 day visa, and I was certain that all the
paperwork would be completed within three months (one would think).
90 days came--I had to pay $30 to extend my visa because the
paperwork was not complete--in theory it would be soon.
In the mean time, I decided it would be a good time to renew my
passport, since it expired in December. The resident visa for Peru is
renewed annually, that would mean I would need to complete more
paperwork when I got my new passport if I waited until December. The
USA Embassy is about s 30 to 45 minute drive from where I live. This
trip had to be made by taxi, because by bus, I would pass through some
very dangerous neighborhoods, and I was instructed that it was not wise
for me to do that. So, I took a $10 round trip taxi to the Embassy,
stopping first to get a passport picture ($8), then returning in three
weeks to pick up a new passport ($10 taxi). This part of the venture
went smoothly. But now there was a need to change my passport number on
the paperwork the Peruvian government offices were processing.
On the morning of June 27 (Friday) after staff devotions, Mesod
informed me that I needed to give him 90 solis (Peruvian money) and $10
US dollars for the “paperwork” and that on Wednesday I would be
traveling to Chili with three other staff members (two young women and
one man). I will not go into detail about how inconvenient this
particular date was for me, suffice it to say, I had no choice!
The ministry here has had a lot of experience with the various bus
companies in Peru, and so we were to be traveling on the best available.
I insisted on going first class because of my health issues resulting
from 7 car accidents (I was only the driver twice and both times I was
stopped at a red light and rear ended. The other 5 times I was a
passenger; once I was hit by two buses!). In any case, the bus we were
traveling was a double-decker. The bottom part of the bus is divided
into thirds, the front third is for the two drivers. It has their seats
and a sleeping compartment. The center of the bottom is the port of
entry, there is a bathroom directly in front as you enter, steps leading
to the second deck are to the right, and to the left there is a closed
door which leads to the “first class seats” (there are only 12). In the
rear of the first level is the luggage department.
Since so many of you were praying for me and this trip, and I was
traveling in relative comfort, the trip to Chili was good. I arrived a
little tired but not in any pain. I picked up my bag at luggage, met
with the other three and started the procedure of entering Chili.
This involved a visit to the Peruvian Customs office located in the
bus station, they checked our passports, collected a minimal fee (can’t
remember the amount) and entrusted us into the care of our taxi (term
used loosely) driver. We then rode together in an ancient gas-guzzling
contraption that I think was an old Ford to the next Peruvian Customs
and Immigration. Here we stood in a long line waiting to give our
passports to a clerk to be stamped, went through the X-ray machine and
returned to the taxi.
After an hour drive, we arrived at the first Chili Immigration
line, stamp, X-ray, in the taxi again for about 20 minutes, another
line, stamp, in taxi for about 20 minutes then we were dropped at a bus
station in Arica, Chili. From there we took a taxi, (fees shared by
each) to the Peruvian Consul, where we completed more forms! And low and
behold, they did not have my new passport number! This threw a scare in
me, but after some effort and the help of the computer, all was well.
But, alas, one of our group did not have pictures! So, taxied all
together for him to take pictures!
Our paperwork was completed but we needed to return at 4PM to
actually get our stamps. It was early afternoon, we needed to rent
rooms, and get something to eat. I still had my suitcase with me, so the
20 minute walk and half hour wait in the sun was not a welcome
distraction. Finally we met up with the pastor of Calvary Chapel Arica
and were taken to a cheap hotel ($15). After a quick shower we all went
to eat, returned to the Consul and picked up our passports. This one
month process had ended up taking me 7 months and still was not over.
On Friday we taxied the same route and process in reverse back to
Peru. At the ticket counter I was told there were no more first class
seats available. I had to return via the “cattle car” upstairs. It would
take another page to describe this roller coaster ride through the
desert-mountains of Peru. Suffice it to say that it was traumatic!
When I arrived in Lima, I could barely walk and I have been dealing
with neck and back pain since! But, the ordeal was not yet over.
On Monday, the four of us had to have special pictures taken, front
and side views. Then visit the Evangelical Fellowship of Peru (umbrella
organization for missionaries) pay fees, ($290 solis and $35) be finger
printed and fill out more forms. Tuesday we went to Interpol, more
forms, fingerprints (all and palms) dental record taken from our open
mouths by a clerk, and more fees (I don’t remember how much, not to
mention the taxi fares to these offices). Finally on Friday, we taxied
to the Peruvian office that, in fact, issues the long-awaited resident
card called a “carnet”. More finger prints, forms, photos, and at last,
I received my resident card!!!!
This was accomplished in 7 months, endless taxi trips, a trip to
Chili and at about the cost of $400.
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August Bike Ride:
The gift of riding on country roads!
Magnificently majestic, the Farallones Mountains stand as a silent
sentry guarding the valley in which Jamundi lies. In Columbia, the Andes
is split into three ranges. The Farallones are part of the Andes
Cordillera Occidental range, and I am awestruck by their beauty. The
country roads running through this valley pass by the entrance to the
community where I live, and continue to the town of Jamundi (in one
direction), and the LA14 (in the opposite direction). As I travel on my
bike towards LA14 to shop, I face the Farallones Mountains with cow
pastures and horse stables on either side of the road. The perfect
environment for bike riding!
As a child I loved riding my bike. It presented me with the option
of leaving my neighborhood to explore other parts of the city. It
represented freedom! I can still feel the wind blowing through my hair
as I sped through the small side streets, racing toward parts unknown.
I was able to fix and change tires, and chains with little effort, that
skill has been lost with time! I don’t remember being the least shaky as
I tested the limits of my bike’s speed. I rode with the confidence that
I was in total control!
Not so these days! I would not know how to fix a flat tire or
change a chain without assistance (and instruction!). And, although I
love the country roads, I am shaky and tend to jerk the handlebars when
riding! I have fallen off the bike twice, and got my pant leg caught in
the chain once. I have only been riding for 12 days, not a good record!
When I got my pant leg caught in the chain, I could not move. I had to
stand waiting for someone to appear, and hope that they would help me.
To my delight a man on horseback was the first to arrive (no joke). I
called up to him “Tu puedas ayudarme¿” (are you able to help me?).
Gallantly, he dismounted and worked for quite some time to release me
from the bondage of the chain! Finally, I have been rescued by a man on
horseback!
Today was the second time I fell. The first time was a minor
topple when I rode over a tree root (big one) and was knocked off
balance. Today, I arrived at the front of my house, carrying groceries
in the basket and tied on the back. I intended to get off the bike and
walk it up the curb. I have no idea what happened, but I found myself,
legs entangled in the bike, sitting on the curb! I am a little
sore from that, but praise the Lord, nothing was broken (groceries or
bones!).
One day I got carried away, and bought a ton of stuff (well not
quite), which I loaded on the front and back of the bike. I was unable
to balance the burden, so I walked back (45 minutes in the hot sun)
pushing the bike. I had to guide it with one arm stretched over the
handle bars. That turned out to be more challenging than riding the
bike!
However, I continue to be grateful for the opportunity to ride on
country roads, to soak up the beauty of rural Columbia. What a
beautiful gift the lover of my soul has given me. I pray I never lose
the joy and appreciation of this gift. It would be so sad, if riding my
bike to the store became reduced to a mundane task.
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The Not So Handy Handymen (I):
Anyone know a good plumber?
I never tire of basking in the beauty of the Andes. Their furrowed
brows silhouetted against the Colombian sky beg one’s imagination to
soar to their heights—a joy I frequently indulge in. I can easily
imagine the mountain peaks to be the humps of a herd of camels moving
across the horizon for distant lands, or that hidden in the folds of
those majestic summits, there are wild horses running free, drinking
from clear cool mountain creeks. The natural beauty of the Andean
valley, where I now live, arouses my senses and lifts me outside of the
mundane matters I must tend to. ,Matters such as: flawed plumbing and
chasms in the roof. These two matters have occupied a great deal of my
time!
Since I moved into this lovely house the kitchen sink has either
leaked, or refused to drain, or both! The owner sent two “handymen”
over to take care of the plumbing and roof problems. They arrived an
hour late, on bikes, without any tools. When I asked how they intended
to fix the roof without a ladder, they had to consider and discuss that.
Finally, after about fifteen minutes of scratching their heads and
muttering various possibilities, it was decided that they needed to go
borrow one. So, Carlos left in search of a ladder, while Diego checked
out the sink.
When Carlos returned, he and Diego (who seemed quite happy to leave
the sink) mixed cement and patched (term used very loosely) a few spots
on the roof, leaving many more untouched! The sink, they decided, would
need to wait until tomorrow because, you guessed it, they did not have
the tools! The following day they arrived two hours late (for real)
with a long piece of wire (their tool) and went to work on the sink. To
my utter amazement they unclogged it. Happy with their success they
left.
The following day, the sink upstairs started leaking! Diego
promised he would be here by 9am. I knew that wasn’t going to happen,
but I didn’t expect him to be a day and an hour late! This time he and
Carlos borrowed my very nice garden hose to push down the sewer in an
attempt to unplug the sink! That didn’t work, so some chemical was
poured down the pipes, which yielded a slight improvement. In the
meantime, the shower stopped draining! It was contagious!!!!
With no resolution in sight, but big happy smiles on their faces,
Diego and Carlos left, promising to return the next day. Five days have
passed, and there has been no sign of them! Of course, the owner keeps
promising tomorrow—tomorrow, as you know, never comes!
During their five days of absence, my doorbell rang, and a man whom
I had never seen before, holding a pot in his hands, explained to me
that he was working on the house up the street and could he please put
his lunch in my refrigerator! This was on Friday, and I always have a
special meal with guests on Friday evenings (Eriv Shabbat). What the
heck. I had room for it in the fridge, so I said yes. At lunch time, he
reappeared to pick it up, and asked if I had a microwave. He explained
that he did not like to eat his lunch cold (understandable) so, I
allowed him to heat it up on my stove.
Over dinner that evening, I explained to Pastor Luis that I was
having a problem with my husband (the Lord) because I had asked him for
a month to fix the plumbing, and it still was not done! I was, however,
able to cook and wash the dishes, so all was not lost!
The next day I walked up the street to see the house Fabio (the man
with the pot) and his partner were working on. They were putting in a
drop ceiling (something I had considered might solve my roof problem)
so; I asked them to come give me an estimate. Later that day they came
to take measurements, and while they were there, I asked them if they
knew a good plumber (by now the sewer gases were quite offensive!). Low
and behold, Fabio said that he was also a plumber!!! He took a look at
my plumbing problems and began muttering about the poor workmanship that
had been done. He then proceeded to unplug the shower drain (for which I
am extremely grateful) and with that accomplishment turned his attention
to my bathroom sink. To make a long story short, he took it all apart,
and basically it is still apart on the bathroom floor! But my shower
works!
Fabio and I talked as he worked. He said that he read his Bible
everyday and that in the past he had gone to church. I had a neat time
of sharing with him. It turned out that his partner, Marcos, is a
Christian! Anyway, I told Fabio that I considered the Lord to be my
husband, but that last evening I had shared with the pastor that I was
having problems with my husband over this plumbing! Fabio laughed and
said, well that was why he had come to my house!
After Fabio and Marcus left Diego arrived (five days late is a bit
much) and I did share that thought with him!!!! I told him that I was
going to be using someone else; he left with a downcast face.
As of this writing, my kitchen sink still leaks but it is draining,
howbeit very slowly. The shower is working, but the bathroom sink is
still apart on the floor, waiting in the hope that Fabio will return and
put it back together again! I will save the story about the roof for
another time, that is also ongoing, and I fear that both of these issues
may continue for the duration of my time here!
Walking the back road home today, I passed an open gate and peeked
in to steal a look at the grand hacienda. I imagined, as I continued my
walk that the owners of such a splendid home would surely have a handy
“handyman” on the premises, and I easily imagined that they would lend
him to me.
(to be continued)
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The Not So Handy Handymen (II):
Black snow - the uninvited guest
Fields of tall tropical grass with thick solid stems resembling
bamboo stalks dot the landscape on the road from Jamundi to Cali. These
are the sugarcane fields of the Cauca River Valley. Colombia’s sugarcane
fields cover 190,000 hectares (one hectare=100 meters squared), and they
produce 2,300,000 tons of sugar (the largest annual yield in the world),
a million of which is exported. Sugarcane is a major industry in
Colombia, employing 30,000 workers. The majority of these fields are
found in the Cauca River Valley. This is the valley where Jamundi (and
Cali) are located—the valley in which I live.
Although I use sugar daily, I never thought much about it as a crop
or how it is processed, like so many things in daily life sugar was used
without thought and accepted at face value. That has changed
considerably since I have been living in the midst of the industry and
have been directly affected by these surrounding fields. When I am
looking out the bus window on the ride into Cali, I am now aware that
the sugar making process begins with the photosynthesizing of the leaves
and that a sweet juice is stored in the bamboo like stalks of the plants
that dominate my view.
Had it been only my view on this bus ride that the sugarcane fields
dominated, I may never have had more than a passing interest. As
incredible as this may seem, these fields, and the harvesting of the
sugarcane, worked their way into my daily life and began to dominate my
every moment—even during the night when I was asleep!!!
The climate in this valley area allows for the continuous
harvesting of sugarcane and thus the continuous pre-harvest and
post-harvest burning of the fields. The fields are rotated in such a
way that there are always new plants being set and mature crops being
harvested. The post-harvest burning of the fields is for the purpose of
“cleaning the field” to facilitate plowing. The mulch left by harvested
crops is thick and deep in the soil. Small and medium-sized tractors
are not effective in plowing, and large tractors are too expensive. So
they burn the fields to clean them of the mulch. Pre-harvest burning is
done because of the excess “trash” on the stalks. The stalks grow as
high as four meters and have 25-40 leaves per plant. Only 5-8 of these
leaves are photosynthesizing leaves (about 20%). Thus, the remaining
80% are considered trash. It would be too labor intensive to separate
these leaves and clean the plants by hand, thus the pre-harvest burning
of the fields. In day-to-day life in the Cauca River Valley, this
translates into daily burning of the sugarcane fields.
The wind carries the ash from the fields across the valley and
deposits it indiscriminately throughout. My neighborhood, and indeed my
house, is no exception. On most days, it is a fine ash and a grit that
presents itself as an uninvited guest in my home. But, there have been
times when the “ash fall” was very heavy and settled on the streets and
lawns in the same way that snow would. In fact, my neighbors refer to
the ash as “black snow”. As annoying as sweeping the sidewalks multiple
times in a day is when the “black snow” is dense and the flakes are
large, it is not as burdensome as clearing my house of the ash. This is
another one of the challenges life in Jamundi has presented me with.
The houses in this community are built to accommodate the warm
climate. For example, there is no external wall separating the patio
from the main part of the house. The patio is encased by external walls,
but is uncovered. The effect is a continuation of my kitchen and dining
area into the “outside” patio.
The roofs of the houses are a corrugated composite that would seem
to have been created to cover a patio or garden shed, certainly not a
roof! There are two panels that extend from the edge of the roof upward
to the spine, overlapping slightly in the middle. At the spine, and at
various points on the roof there are “openings”, evidenced by the fact
that light shines through! This can be observed by standing in my
bedroom and looking up at the ceiling. The ceiling (and I use this term
loosely) is simply the other side of the corrugated panels. So,
standing in my bedroom, looking up and observing light entering, it does
not require imagination to understand that if light can enter, so can
other stuff! You have probably guessed that the other stuff is “ash”!
When renting a house one ordinarily does not think to ask, “Will
ash come in through the roof and cover me and my bed while I am
sleeping?”—does one? I certainly did not think to ask this, or many
other questions I now wish I had thought of before I signed the lease.
Being covered in ash while I slept was only a small part of the
problem. Of a greater nuisance was the reality that every nook and
granny of my house was continually in need of cleaning. I was literally
cleaning almost non-stop because I could not stand the grit and ash! I
would tell myself, “Leona, you are only going to sweep, mop, and dust
once today. The Lord did not call you to Colombia to maintain a clean
house!” However well-intentioned my day began, I always ended up giving
in to the temptation to maintain an ash free environment! Alas,
circumstances demanded action, but action required finances, and
finances dictated that the solution be as inexpensive as possible, thus,
entered into my calamity the not so handy handyman.
You may remember in part one of the Not So Handy Handyman,
the owner sent over Carlos and Diego to fix the plumbing problems that I
was having: this was during the same time that I was dealing with the
ash. It was on this first visit, after borrowing a ladder and doing a
very temporary job of “fixing” the kitchen sink that these two
entrepreneurs set about fixing my ash problem. At least that was the
plan, but things seldom go as planned.
I had purchased shade cloth to cover the patio thinking that it
would prevent the ash from entering—that was my plan. The shade
cloth came in a roll and would, therefore, necessitate cutting it into
the correct lengths before attaching it to the iron grid. At least one
would think of this as the first step. But Diego had his own method of
approach, just cut at will and piece mill it together! The end result
was a very unattractive meshing together of the shade cloth, and an
ineffective attempt to prevent the ash from entering. I think it was at
this point that I decided I could easily live the rest of my life
without ever laying eyes on these two again!
But, they were not yet finished, remember the holes in the roof
that was next on the agenda. To gain access to the roof, the borrowed
ladder was placed on top of the plastic corrugated panels that are
attached to the house and cover about 3 feet of the patio (the shade
cloth area is an additional 3 feet). The borrowed ladder amounted to
two long pieces of wood, different sizes in width, but the same length,
with six “rungs” of different widths (same lengths) nailed to the long
pieces, then wrapped in wire. Carlos held this questionable ladder, and
Diego climbed onto the roof carrying small baggies of cement. The cement
was set into the larger holes; the rest of the holes were left as they
were.
Needless to say, the ash problem was not resolved, nor was the
plumbing as you may recall. The ash continued to cover me while I slept
at night, as well as all parts of the known world of my house! It was
about this time that the shower stopped draining. Okay, so life
presents us with challenges, we encounter rain clouds from time to time,
but this was developing into a full fledged storm, and my emotional
barometer was issuing tornado warnings!
It was at this point that Fabio appeared at my door asking if he
could store his lunch in my refrigerator. He and Marco took a look at
the plumbing, and eventually fixed it. This bolstered my confidence in
them enough to ask them to give me an estimate on my next plan for
creating an ash free environment: that being to extend the plastic
corrugated panels and redo the shade cloth in addition to putting in a
drop ceiling upstairs. They estimated the time for the patio to be an
hour, and the ceiling two days. We agreed on a price, and scheduled the
patio for that week, and the ceiling to be done while I was in Peru (a
one week trip for my visa).
I made arrangements with Jamie to take me into to Cali. Jamie is a
new believer who has been attending the church in Jamundi. He also has
a pick up truck and rents his services for transportation and hauling.
Jamie and I went to the Home Center (kind of like a Home Depot) in Cali
and purchased the plastic panels and supplies needed for the continued
work on the patio. So, when Fabio and Marcos arrived all that they
needed for this small one-hour job was in ready for them.
During the week that Fabio and Marcos worked on the house up the
street, I prepared lunch for them daily. It was a blessing to be able
to share with them and try to answer the questions they had about the
Bible and TV preachers. Both claimed to be Christians, yet neither
attended church. Fabio said he read his Bible and prayed everyday. I
shared of the importance of fellowship and the need to sit under good
solid teaching. I invited them to church, and also gave them CDs from
Sunday morning service to listen to. So, by the time they started the
work on the patio, we were old friends.
The one hour job ended up taking five hours; they did a very good
job and the bonus is that it also looks nice. However, it did not
“solve” the ash problem; it decreased it by about 70% for which I am
grateful. In practical terms, that means that ash still comes in
everyday, but it does not cover everything. The grit and fine
ash will probably continue to be a part of my life here in Jamundi, and
I’ve accepted that. Seventy percent success seems to be considered a
good job, so…upon my return from Peru, I found a beautiful new ceiling
in my upstairs—which has solved the ash problem in my bedroom 100%.
That is phenomenal success!
The Sunday of my return to Colombia as I was sitting in church in
Cali during worship, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and
found Fabio standing there! He later told me that he knew I was
returning from Peru and would be in church so he decided to surprise me.
What a blessing! He has been attending regularly since then. In
addition, his wife Beatrice accepted the Lord at my house on the
following Friday at one of my Eriv Shabbath meals. Karol, Pastor Luis’s
wife, had the privilege of sharing and praying with her. I guess that
puts my ash and plumbing problem into perspective!
To date, the patio issue is unresolved, but Jamie is going to try
my third plan of action this week. We are going to approach it from a
different angle. The ash enters through the very small space between
the shade cloth and the plastic panels. I am thinking if we put a drain
pipe under the panels and on top of the shade cloth that would block the
ash. I need to put a drain gutter in anyway because of the torrential
rainfall here. I will let you know if this is successful.
As I am writing, I am sitting on my front porch. It is a beautiful
fresh morning, the neighborhood birds are in concert, and the sun is
shining. My emotional barometer has rescinded the tornado warning, and
it is well with my soul.
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Gifts to the Lord:
They always seem to benefit me more than God. God is so Good!
Every year when the Christmas season begins, I plan my Gifts to
the Lord Celebration. I was first introduced to the tradition in Holland
when I was serving under Floyd McClung in Urban Missions Amsterdam.
Floyd instructed the staff to pray and ask the Lord what He would like
each of us to give to Him this year for Christmas. I loved celebrating
Christmas in this way and have continued the tradition since that time.
Over the years the Lord has asked for a variety of “gifts” from me.
The very first year He asked me to give to Him my daughter Sara. She
was married with two children, but I had never “let go” of her. In more
recent years, He’s asked me to write the book Chosen In Love.
In all the 27 years since I have been celebrating Gifts to the Lord,
the gifts He has asked for always seemed to be of greater benefit to me
than they were to Him. This year is no exception (2009).
This year I decided to celebrate Gifts to the Lord with Claudia,
Hernando and their children. Claudia expressed to me that she was
trying to find a Christmas tradition that would be special for her
family. I suggested lighting an Advent Candle on the four Sunday’s
prior to Christmas and then one on Christmas Day (Church tradition) and
explained the significance to her. Claudia liked this idea, so I
invited all of them to light the first advent candle in my home on
November 29. Mateo (their son) would light the candle, Hernando would
read the Matthew account, and then we would all pray and ask the Lord
what He wanted each of us to give Him for Christmas this year. This was
followed by a meal and a time of fellowship. Over the years I have
celebrated Christmas in many different countries. In Thailand, the
girls in the Baan Sai Tan Rak (the house ministry I pioneered there) and
I celebrated Gifts to the Lord together. When I have been in the states
I have celebrated with special friends. The celebration always included
a festive meal, but this was the first year it included the lighting of
an Advent Candle.
My week following our first night, Gifts to the Lord unfolded as
normal. In this week I would need to go to DAS (Colombian Immigration
Office) and request a visa extension: my tourist visa expired on Friday
(December 4th). Colombia issues 30, 60, or 90 day tourist
visas that one is able to extend, but the law states that as a tourist
you can only enter the country three times and stay for a maximum of 6
months in a given year. To date I had already used up my entry quota,
and I only had 29 days left on my six months. I was very concerned
about the situation because I did not have all the papers I needed to
apply for the two year visa for which I qualified. If, on Wednesday
(when Hernando and I planned to go to DAS) they denied me an extension,
I would need to travel to Bogota immediately and begin the process for
the two year visa. I could not do this without all the paper work!!!!
So, on Tuesday morning during my devotional time I was praying about
this issue and asking the Lord to PLEASE give me grace with DAS and have
them extend my tourist visa.
When I was praying, the feeling I had is that what I was actually
doing was asking the Lord to have the Colombian authorities bend the law
for me, and I was very uncomfortable with this feeling! My alternative
was to travel to another country until January As I came to this
decision (still in my devotional time), in my mind, I could hear the
voice of my daughter Renee’ pleading, “Please Mom come and spend
Christmas with me; I need you”. Renee’ had made this plea numerous
times over the past six months. I always gave the same response: “It is
financially impossible.” So, on Tuesday morning, as I was facing
leaving Colombia for a month and I could hear Renee’s plea, I still
dismissed it as impossible.
I finished my devotional time and went to the computer to check
airfares to surrounding countries. In Lima Peru, I had an apartment of
a friend where I could stay; Ecuador and Panama were other
possibilities. As I was checking the fares, I continued to hear Renee’s
voice and I continued to lament the impossibility of going to her home
in Florida. But, as I was checking the fares and calculating the
expense of a month long trip (over Christmas holiday season) to another
country, it seemed to be cost effective to go to Florida!
So, I started checking fares to Florida, and I was immediately
impressed with the thought make the reservation now. It was not a
demanding annoying thought, just a clear reasonable thought that I
should make the reservation now. But this did not make sense to me,
because I had not discussed the trip with my accountability team (they
always pray with me concerning decisions I am making, especially a major
one like this!), and I had not talked with the pastors here. But the
suggestion to make the reservation persisted, and so I reasoned—well, I
can get a full refund within 24 hours if I cancel the trip. I would be
able to hear back from my accountability team and talk with the pastors
by then. So, I emailed Renee’ to make certain which airport in Orlando
I should fly into.
Renee’s response was immediate, her email started with “Thank God”,
assuming that I was in fact coming although in my email I had only used
the word may. Renee’ went on to explain to me how much she
needed me there with her this Christmas (Renee’ has been going through a
very difficult year). When I received this email, it was confirmation
to me that I was, in fact, leaving in three days for Florida!
Returning to the computer (they really are wonderful things when
they don’t have a virus!), I booked a flight and then went to request a
seat assignment. To my utter amazement there were almost no seats left
on all of the flights I had chosen. In fact, on the flight from Miami to
Orlando, there were only exit row seats, and they would not assign them
until just before the flight. So, I did not have a seat assigned for
that portion of my trip. I understood then why the insistence was on
making the reservation now! Later in the day I received confirmation
from several of my accountability team, and from one of the pastors here
in Colombia that I should indeed spend Christmas with my daughter,
because she needed me.
On Wednesday afternoon after I had finally processed that on Friday
I would be in Florida, my mind returned to Gifts to the Lord, and I
again asked the Lord, “What do you want me to give you this year for
Christmas?” The response was immediate; you have given it to me.
I understood He was referring to the trip to Florida. As incredible as
it seems to me, my gift to the Lord this year is spending Christmas with
my daughter Renee’ and her family in Florida. Once again, it seems more
like a gift to me than a gift to the Lord.
This morning as I continued to pack, I was reflecting on this, and
I thought of how this experience truly reflected the character of our
Lord. He never asks anything of His children that is for His benefit.
He only asks for what will ultimately benefit them. I, as one of His
children, am so very blessed by my loving Father God, and am so grateful
that He sent His Son to be born in a manger and to die on a cross for
me. Thank you Jesus!!!!
What might He be asking you to give Him for Christmas this year?
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Rainy Season in Cauca Valley:
Storms
and Strays
A blinding bolt of lightening illuminated the room in which I was
standing followed seconds later by a deafening roar of thunder that
seemed to shake the house. It is the rainy season in the Colombian
Andes and the storms are ferocious. Where I live in the Cauca Valley is
not exempt of their fury. The banks of the small river that flows at
the end of my street are swollen and the street is flooded. On more
than one occasion my house has been flooded! Yet, the passion of the
storm intrigues me and captures my imagination. It becomes for me, a
cosmic concert with drum rolls and a light show. I have always loved
the rain; even as a child I embraced the fervor of a storm.
One of the earliest poems I
wrote as a child was about a hurricane:
Hurricane Hazel
Hurricane Hazel came to town
All dressed up in her frizzy nightgown.
She blew down shutters and tops of towers.
She tore up trees and mommy’s flowers.
She took along a rose for her hair,
And just left us standing there!
Okay, it is not great, but I was only about ten years old!
As much as storms have fascinated me, the quiet and beauty that
follows enraptures me. The still air that carries the bird’s song has a
peace unrivaled. In the Cauca Valley, the billowing cloud formations
against the mountain peaks are almost reverential: as though the earth
and skies were paying homage to the Creator of the storm.
Following a storm, the grassy areas in the neighborhood turn almost
emerald green, and their lushness attracts the stray horses that wander
through Siglo 21 (my neighborhood). Yes, stray horses! Many
neighborhoods have stray dogs or cats, but this is the only neighborhood
that I have lived in that has stray horses! They wander the streets and
yards grazing at will, and only “nay” slightly when they are chased from
a lawn they have taken a fancy to! The storms provide the horses with a
banquet they are determined to enjoy in spite of the human distraction.
In a few months, the rainy season will have passed, the storms will
be forgotten, and the stray horses will find other feeding areas. The
summer will unfold into bright sunny days; the skies will be blue with
only wisps of white clouds. The monotony of the weather will stir a
desire within me to once again embrace the passion of a storm. This
causes me to examine how I respond to the spiritual and emotional
“storms” that the Lord allows in my life. I dare say most often I do
not embrace them. Yet, following the storm, there is beauty in the
lessons learned, and an abundant supply of meditation fodder to mull
over.
Oh, that I would embrace the storms in my life with the settled
awareness that there exists a purpose, and a lesson to be learned.
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More memories to come:
to be added soon
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