Kind of cool ! (even if I am not a fan of the man)
Monday, March 14, 2011
One Degree of Seperation
Kind of cool ! (even if I am not a fan of the man)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Blood, Sweat, and Tears!
By Rita VernoyIf anyone asked me for my opinion (like I'd wait to be asked!) on what it takes to be a career missionary, I would answer, "Blood, sweat and tears!" It takes years to learn a language and a culture well. A language is picked up long before the culture is truly understood. In most cases, the missionary can attend a language school to learn a rudimentary knowledge of the language, but there is no classroom to learn the culture. When learning a tribal language, one must become childlike and follow people around and try to imitate sounds without a clue as to their meaning. Eventually, one will begin to hear the different individual sounds and can transcribe,well, that's another whole story! It is much more time-consuming and the culture, of course, is totally alien to the western mind.
READ MORE HERE!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Being a Missionary is not my Real Job!
Thoughts for Missionary Wives
I am often asked what is a typical day like living on the mission field . It is a very hard question to answer. You must understand that every circumstance is different. The missionary's schedule will be dictated by the culture in which he works, the level of his language skills, the ministry role in which he has been placed, and even the missionary's personality.
Our days in the jungle were completely different than our days here in Paraguay. Both were full of ministry but ministering to our flock was different there than it will be here. We do not do any medical work here, we do not need to do translation work, but we still have a ministry.
A common misconception some people hold is in regards to what the role of the missionary wife should be. Wives on the mission field do indeed serve in various capacities, but their ministries will be different depending on several factors. How many children are in the home? Does she have small children? Does she need to home school the children? What are her living conditions? (Carrying water, cooking with fire wood, hand washing laundry do take time!)What help does her husband require of her? Her ministry will be ever changing as the dynamics of her home change.
My job is to be the wife my husband needs, finish raising our children yet at home, which includes home schooling them, and if my husband needs me to serve in a capacity of ministry, I will do that as well. But, in my case, I am only a woman married to a missionary. Being a missionary is not my real job! I do not get paid to be a missionary nor do I punch a time clock. I am a stay at home wife and mother and I happen to live on the mission field.
As a child of God I do feel required to take part in christian service as is every other Christian where ever they may live. I have the privilege of enjoying my life as the wife of a missionary and I also feel fulfilled in my role as wife and mother. Serving my Lord on the mission field is just the icing on the cake!
I would like to be able to instruct younger missionary wives as to the role which they play on the field. Every woman is different and married to a different man. Every ministry will ask different things of different people, but the missionary wife must never feel guilty for putting her time and energy first into her family.
Some families are able to find adequate education for their children on the field and I am not assuming to know what may be best for another family, but even if your children are enrolled in a school your job as a wife and mother will still require much time. Some woman even need to have outside interests and ministry will fulfill this for her, but in balance. This time away from the home duties may allow you to came back refreshed.
The work of a home maker seems to always be more time consuming in third world countries. We do not have the option of packaged foods, fast foods, we do not have central air and heat to keep dust out of the home. We sometimes lack time saving appliances commonly found in the american home. Our electricity and water go out often which requires more work. Buying groceries and other supplies takes much more time as we do not have the convenience of a Super Wal-Mart with one stop shopping. Even paying bills takes a lot of time. We can not do it online or even mail in a check, we have to go stand in several lines to pay each one. Of course, that is after standing in line at the bank to change our money in order to pay the bills, all the while watching our backs to make sure we will not be robbed as we leave the bank, which happened to a lady here just a few weeks ago, shot dead in the parking lot for $2000 US Dollars. Sometimes our homes and cars are robbed and we have gun shots in the night.
How many times have I seen women on the mission field break under the pressure she feels to perform more than she is capable of! This often leads to depression and even leaving the mission field. Perhaps, if the missionary wife would relax a bit and give herself the opportunity to be 'just another woman' this would not happen so often. Remember you are under extra stress just dealing with life in a new culture and and language.
To the younger wives I would remind you that your children will grow up and you will have more time available for ministry then. Never forget your people are observing you and the best testimony is for you to show them a Christian woman who is at peace and content.
I have known phenomenal women who were able to do it all! Sadly, I have known many who gave up, not feeling adequate to the job they assumed others expected of them. Often times this pressure comes from well meaning folks stateside who somehow think the wife of a missionary should be capable of more than any other woman. A Christian Super Woman with special powers! Personally, I think being able to sleep through gun shots flying over your roof is a Super Power! Some even think that the wife is an employee of the mission, which may be the case for some, but not all.
So dear younger missionary wife, don't forget to enjoy your life. Don't forget to be available to your husband as a wife, not an employee, put your best time and effort into your children, and serve God first at home. Remember you also need time to study and promote your own intellectual and spiritual growth as this will only serve you in your capacity as a counselor to others. And you will be a counselor!
God will always provide the right ministry for you that will not be more than you can handle. If you are stressing out, feeling pressured to perform, loosing joy in your marriage, or do not have control of your home and yet still try to be involved in ministry outside of the home, you are doing too much.
God does not want His children to serve out of duty alone but with a heart of joy. Service to Him will never require you to abandon your first calling to the home. If this is the case for you, perhaps you need to step back and re-evaluate what you are doing and where you are expending most of your energy. Plan a little time for relaxation and fun each and every day, it will only make you a better person.
Maybe you need a hobby... might I suggest blogging?
I am often asked what is a typical day like living on the mission field . It is a very hard question to answer. You must understand that every circumstance is different. The missionary's schedule will be dictated by the culture in which he works, the level of his language skills, the ministry role in which he has been placed, and even the missionary's personality.
Our days in the jungle were completely different than our days here in Paraguay. Both were full of ministry but ministering to our flock was different there than it will be here. We do not do any medical work here, we do not need to do translation work, but we still have a ministry.
A common misconception some people hold is in regards to what the role of the missionary wife should be. Wives on the mission field do indeed serve in various capacities, but their ministries will be different depending on several factors. How many children are in the home? Does she have small children? Does she need to home school the children? What are her living conditions? (Carrying water, cooking with fire wood, hand washing laundry do take time!)What help does her husband require of her? Her ministry will be ever changing as the dynamics of her home change.
My job is to be the wife my husband needs, finish raising our children yet at home, which includes home schooling them, and if my husband needs me to serve in a capacity of ministry, I will do that as well. But, in my case, I am only a woman married to a missionary. Being a missionary is not my real job! I do not get paid to be a missionary nor do I punch a time clock. I am a stay at home wife and mother and I happen to live on the mission field.
As a child of God I do feel required to take part in christian service as is every other Christian where ever they may live. I have the privilege of enjoying my life as the wife of a missionary and I also feel fulfilled in my role as wife and mother. Serving my Lord on the mission field is just the icing on the cake!
I would like to be able to instruct younger missionary wives as to the role which they play on the field. Every woman is different and married to a different man. Every ministry will ask different things of different people, but the missionary wife must never feel guilty for putting her time and energy first into her family.
Some families are able to find adequate education for their children on the field and I am not assuming to know what may be best for another family, but even if your children are enrolled in a school your job as a wife and mother will still require much time. Some woman even need to have outside interests and ministry will fulfill this for her, but in balance. This time away from the home duties may allow you to came back refreshed.
The work of a home maker seems to always be more time consuming in third world countries. We do not have the option of packaged foods, fast foods, we do not have central air and heat to keep dust out of the home. We sometimes lack time saving appliances commonly found in the american home. Our electricity and water go out often which requires more work. Buying groceries and other supplies takes much more time as we do not have the convenience of a Super Wal-Mart with one stop shopping. Even paying bills takes a lot of time. We can not do it online or even mail in a check, we have to go stand in several lines to pay each one. Of course, that is after standing in line at the bank to change our money in order to pay the bills, all the while watching our backs to make sure we will not be robbed as we leave the bank, which happened to a lady here just a few weeks ago, shot dead in the parking lot for $2000 US Dollars. Sometimes our homes and cars are robbed and we have gun shots in the night.
How many times have I seen women on the mission field break under the pressure she feels to perform more than she is capable of! This often leads to depression and even leaving the mission field. Perhaps, if the missionary wife would relax a bit and give herself the opportunity to be 'just another woman' this would not happen so often. Remember you are under extra stress just dealing with life in a new culture and and language.
To the younger wives I would remind you that your children will grow up and you will have more time available for ministry then. Never forget your people are observing you and the best testimony is for you to show them a Christian woman who is at peace and content.
I have known phenomenal women who were able to do it all! Sadly, I have known many who gave up, not feeling adequate to the job they assumed others expected of them. Often times this pressure comes from well meaning folks stateside who somehow think the wife of a missionary should be capable of more than any other woman. A Christian Super Woman with special powers! Personally, I think being able to sleep through gun shots flying over your roof is a Super Power! Some even think that the wife is an employee of the mission, which may be the case for some, but not all.
So dear younger missionary wife, don't forget to enjoy your life. Don't forget to be available to your husband as a wife, not an employee, put your best time and effort into your children, and serve God first at home. Remember you also need time to study and promote your own intellectual and spiritual growth as this will only serve you in your capacity as a counselor to others. And you will be a counselor!
God will always provide the right ministry for you that will not be more than you can handle. If you are stressing out, feeling pressured to perform, loosing joy in your marriage, or do not have control of your home and yet still try to be involved in ministry outside of the home, you are doing too much.
God does not want His children to serve out of duty alone but with a heart of joy. Service to Him will never require you to abandon your first calling to the home. If this is the case for you, perhaps you need to step back and re-evaluate what you are doing and where you are expending most of your energy. Plan a little time for relaxation and fun each and every day, it will only make you a better person.
Maybe you need a hobby... might I suggest blogging?
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Beware!
Jungle Mom had just returned to her home from an evening of church services, when she was startled by an intruder. She caught the manin the act of robbing her home of its valuables and yelled: 'Stop! Acts 2:38( Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins,)
The burglar stopped in his tracks. Jungle Mom calmly called the police and explained what she had done.
As the officer cuffed the man to take him in, he asked the burglar: 'Why did you just stand there? All the old lady did was yell a scripture to you.'
As the officer cuffed the man to take him in, he asked the burglar: 'Why did you just stand there? All the old lady did was yell a scripture to you.'
'Scripture?' replied the burglar. 'She said she had an Ax and Two 38s!'
Monday, March 07, 2011
Feeling a little cranky!
"...if I die suddenly, my gravestone might appropriately offer this insight into my departure: "God got tired." I require lots of work."
— Beth Moore (Believing God)
It has been a rough patch we have been growing through lately. No one thing in particular, just a lot of little things that seem to add up and become a bit overwhelming.
For instnace, this weekend we were robbed for the second time in a month. The first breakin was thwarted after a window was broken and the alarm sounded which alerted all the neighbors. We continue to have random gun shots fired around our neighborhood and often within feet of our house. Usually these are guards fireing warning shots at intruders but it is unnerving to have guns shooting off across the street in the middle of the night and then be responded by another gun behind the house. Or house alarms going off for hours at a time. Not condusive to sleep.
Saturday night our son in law left his car with us as my husband took him to catch a midnight bus to another city where he was preaching Sunday morning. When we awoke Sunday morning we discovered his van had been broken into, destroying the consul and a window. The van was parked a few feet away from my daughter's window. All of his electonics, along with our garage remotes, and theirs, were taken as well as a GPS and other items with his address. This meant Jackie and the grand babies were home alone and the theives had their remote and address. So... the day was spent changing locks and securing the two homes which was made more difficult being a Sunday and most stores are closed.
It also means the thief was walking around our bedroom windows as we found evidence of their having been in the back yard as well as the front. I don't like that.
So Jackie and the girls are here with us for now. Brian is in Luque and has a bad virus (fever, vomiting) and is not up for the bus trip home yet. In the mean time, we are dealing with the car insurance issues.
When it rains, it pours! But God is always faithful!
"In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me." - Psalm 56:11
— Beth Moore (Believing God)
It has been a rough patch we have been growing through lately. No one thing in particular, just a lot of little things that seem to add up and become a bit overwhelming.
For instnace, this weekend we were robbed for the second time in a month. The first breakin was thwarted after a window was broken and the alarm sounded which alerted all the neighbors. We continue to have random gun shots fired around our neighborhood and often within feet of our house. Usually these are guards fireing warning shots at intruders but it is unnerving to have guns shooting off across the street in the middle of the night and then be responded by another gun behind the house. Or house alarms going off for hours at a time. Not condusive to sleep.
Saturday night our son in law left his car with us as my husband took him to catch a midnight bus to another city where he was preaching Sunday morning. When we awoke Sunday morning we discovered his van had been broken into, destroying the consul and a window. The van was parked a few feet away from my daughter's window. All of his electonics, along with our garage remotes, and theirs, were taken as well as a GPS and other items with his address. This meant Jackie and the grand babies were home alone and the theives had their remote and address. So... the day was spent changing locks and securing the two homes which was made more difficult being a Sunday and most stores are closed.
It also means the thief was walking around our bedroom windows as we found evidence of their having been in the back yard as well as the front. I don't like that.
So Jackie and the girls are here with us for now. Brian is in Luque and has a bad virus (fever, vomiting) and is not up for the bus trip home yet. In the mean time, we are dealing with the car insurance issues.
When it rains, it pours! But God is always faithful!
"In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me." - Psalm 56:11
I think I will have this blown up and put around our property!
Go ahead, make my day, PUNK!
Go ahead, make my day, PUNK!
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Driving Rules in Ciudad del Este
My husband assures me that there are rules for driving in this city. After months of careful observation I have gathered together the following rules of the road as I see them...
Never pull into a continuous stream of traffic with your eyes open.
Horse drawn vehicles should keep to the middle of the road and weave.
Fast vehicles should stay in Asuncion.
If you are coming from a side road onto the main road, you have the right of way. Do not slow down unless you roll over or hit something. Only stop if the object hit appears to have life.
Hand signals should primarily indicate the driver’s mood.
Only stop at a red light if the car in front has stopped.
At a crossroad when turning left, get into the right hand lane. Beware of the motorcycle!
At a crossroad when turning right, get into the left-hand lane. Beware of the motorcycle!
If a horse cart hits you, you are going too slow.
If a police car hits you, you are driving recklessly.
If you hit a Paraguayan it's your fault.
If you hit a Brazilian its his fault.
If you hit an Argentine go to the nearest police station and claim your prize.
Do not enter spaces narrower than the width of the car, or a taxi narrower than the width of the passenger.
It is necessary to turn on the windshield wiper a few seconds before any stop. This will keep some of the wind shield washers from spraying your glass with soapy water.
The horn operation must be checked at least every 10 meters, usually in order to move a cow from the road.
You may also be required to have brakes.
Two lanes are for driving in both directions, whichever side you are on.
The internal mirror is for the use of the driver only - to comb his hair, or hang his icons from.
If you are a foreigner, speed limit signs are in km/h
If you are a native speed limit signs are in m.p.h.
If you are driving on a cobble stone street, the speed limit is as fast as your dental work will allow.
All drivers must comply with the speed limit... or some multiple thereof.
Never pull into a continuous stream of traffic with your eyes open.
Horse drawn vehicles should keep to the middle of the road and weave.
Fast vehicles should stay in Asuncion.
If you are coming from a side road onto the main road, you have the right of way. Do not slow down unless you roll over or hit something. Only stop if the object hit appears to have life.
Hand signals should primarily indicate the driver’s mood.
Only stop at a red light if the car in front has stopped.
At a crossroad when turning left, get into the right hand lane. Beware of the motorcycle!
At a crossroad when turning right, get into the left-hand lane. Beware of the motorcycle!
If a horse cart hits you, you are going too slow.
If a police car hits you, you are driving recklessly.
If you hit a Paraguayan it's your fault.
If you hit a Brazilian its his fault.
If you hit an Argentine go to the nearest police station and claim your prize.
Do not enter spaces narrower than the width of the car, or a taxi narrower than the width of the passenger.
It is necessary to turn on the windshield wiper a few seconds before any stop. This will keep some of the wind shield washers from spraying your glass with soapy water.
The horn operation must be checked at least every 10 meters, usually in order to move a cow from the road.
You may also be required to have brakes.
Two lanes are for driving in both directions, whichever side you are on.
The internal mirror is for the use of the driver only - to comb his hair, or hang his icons from.
If you are a foreigner, speed limit signs are in km/h
If you are a native speed limit signs are in m.p.h.
If you are driving on a cobble stone street, the speed limit is as fast as your dental work will allow.
All drivers must comply with the speed limit... or some multiple thereof.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Worms!
The following was written by my youngest daughter, Jayde.
Amazonian worms.
The earliest memory I can recall clearly is eating worms instead of my mom's chocolate chip cookies. I may have been crazy, or simply craving worms. I don't know. But they were smoked, and they were very tasty. They taste a lot like beef jerky only a little bit more...um...wiggly. Plus, they are long. About a foot long. Let's just say that they are like Slim Jims. Only living.
They are much tastier when they are cooked, as are most foods. But, eating them live and raw can gross out any tourists or city-folk and it is fun. I used to snack on them like potato chips. I prefer them over potato chips.
Anyways, I'm guessing myself to be about five to six years old, and obviously, I was hungry. I was growing anyway, and I needed something to hold me over until Mom finished making lunch.
"Mama." I said, and looked up at her as she stirred the pot...Or cut the vegetables...Or baked or whatever she was doing. And she looked down at me.
"What?"
"I'm hungry." As I said this, I rubbed my tummy.
Mom told me to go look in the fridge, as there was something to snack on. "Go look."
I walked over, and opened the fridge. Inside was a wild array of meat, fish that the Indians had brought, baby veggies, leftovers and...Worms. I dug in for the worms. I took them out, and carried them up to the loft while I played.
As soon as the Ziploc was empty, I quietly slipped back down the ladder, and threw the bag in the sink as Mom had always instructed me to do, because 'those magical bags didn't grow on trees'. I found this odd, because, to me, everything grew on trees. Fruits, vegetables, and I thought birds grew on trees. And the fact that they were magical meant they had to be cleaned every day, to be used again. And then stuck against the window when wet, to dry.
Anyway, once I threw it in the sink, I looked over and saw Mom leaning into the fridge. (I remember this clearly).
I went over and asked what she was doing. Mom stood back up, and said, " Where are they!?!?! They're--They're---They're GONE! What happened? Do you know??" She asked me.
I shook my head. Then Mom saw me. And looked in the sink.
"Did you eat the worms??"
I nodded. "You said there was a snack in the fridge."
"But--Those were for your cousins for when we see them next week. Oh...I was gonna surprise them!..." Mom looked so sad. So I looked at her, smiled and said,
"They wouldn't like them anyway. They would think that they were gross. So I eated them."
"I'm sure you did."
Turns out, she had meant the chocolate chip cookies when she said a snack. Who knew?
Jayde 'helps' her dad while a friend gets stitches.
Amazonian worms.
They are much tastier when they are cooked, as are most foods. But, eating them live and raw can gross out any tourists or city-folk and it is fun. I used to snack on them like potato chips. I prefer them over potato chips.
Anyways, I'm guessing myself to be about five to six years old, and obviously, I was hungry. I was growing anyway, and I needed something to hold me over until Mom finished making lunch.
"Mama." I said, and looked up at her as she stirred the pot...Or cut the vegetables...Or baked or whatever she was doing. And she looked down at me.
"What?"
"I'm hungry." As I said this, I rubbed my tummy.
Mom told me to go look in the fridge, as there was something to snack on. "Go look."
I walked over, and opened the fridge. Inside was a wild array of meat, fish that the Indians had brought, baby veggies, leftovers and...Worms. I dug in for the worms. I took them out, and carried them up to the loft while I played.
As soon as the Ziploc was empty, I quietly slipped back down the ladder, and threw the bag in the sink as Mom had always instructed me to do, because 'those magical bags didn't grow on trees'. I found this odd, because, to me, everything grew on trees. Fruits, vegetables, and I thought birds grew on trees. And the fact that they were magical meant they had to be cleaned every day, to be used again. And then stuck against the window when wet, to dry.
Anyway, once I threw it in the sink, I looked over and saw Mom leaning into the fridge. (I remember this clearly).
I went over and asked what she was doing. Mom stood back up, and said, " Where are they!?!?! They're--They're---They're GONE! What happened? Do you know??" She asked me.
I shook my head. Then Mom saw me. And looked in the sink.
"Did you eat the worms??"
I nodded. "You said there was a snack in the fridge."
"But--Those were for your cousins for when we see them next week. Oh...I was gonna surprise them!..." Mom looked so sad. So I looked at her, smiled and said,
"They wouldn't like them anyway. They would think that they were gross. So I eated them."
"I'm sure you did."
Turns out, she had meant the chocolate chip cookies when she said a snack. Who knew?
Jayde 'helps' her dad while a friend gets stitches.Monday, February 14, 2011
How to give directions...
...in Ciudad del Este, Paraguay.
Giving directions or an address is not done with street names or numbers. You start with a familiar landmark, the mosque, stadium, hospital or perhaps the lawyer’s office that looks like a Persian palace. Then you tell them to go towards Area 4, past the petrol station, and turn right at the pharmacy. Now look for the little guard shack, two blocks after that is the house. That’s right, the one with the pet peacock, not the ostrich! That’s easy enough, right?
Driving is chaotically organized. The traffic circles have rules that only drivers from CdE (Ciudad del Este) know. To make it more fun, the rules at each traffic circle are different, just because you had the right of way in the previous circle, doesn’t mean you have it in the next one.
I use the Matador System... close my eyes, and prepare for the charge, face the beast!
Si me muero, me muro!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Missionary Conundrum
A re-post~
I have often found myself in a difficult dilemma. Sometimes, as a missionary, one can not help but become deeply involved in the lives of the people where one is serving. After so many years of trying to adapt, even adopting the culture, it is not easy to avoid opinions of the political nature. Especially when you see a government that is abusing the citizen. Even more so when you realize that many measures could endanger the Christian cause.
When it comes to communism, there has never been a place where Christianity was allowed to flourish under this system without much difficulty and persecution. I see no reason to believe it will be different in Venezuela if the current system is left unchanged. Add to that all the new alliances with radical Islam, how can the christian missionary not be concerned? How can you not warn, or at least try to prepare, the congregation for the persecution to come?All this has to be tempered by the reality that our primary mission is to evangelize the unsaved and serve the people as our Lord would.
The dilemma is knowing when and where to draw the line. I have not always been able to do this. I have grown to identify so much with the people of Venezuela, I can not turn a blind eye.
I was encouraged as I began to research and found that others before me have experienced the same problem.
One missionary I remembered reading about many years ago, Howard Baskerville , seemed to feel as I. He was a missionary who served in Iran.
Howard Baskerville said that he joined his students and took up arms for the nationalist movement, "as a matter of conscience." He ended up dying, while actually defending the Iranians. He is buried in Tabriz.
I am not condoning violence. I do applaud bravery and the defense of the weak.
Until recently, he was considered a hero by the Iranians. Much the same as we American revere Lafayette, who fought with us in the revolutionary war, Baskerville was honored as the American missionary who fought with his students.
He died in the siege of Tabriz leading a student contingent, in April of 1909. He was buried there in Iranian soil.
The following are excerpts from a letter, written by an American missionary wife, to inform his parents of their son's deeds.
And then of their son's death.
We carried him to our room and laid him on our own bed, and Mrs. Vannemen and I washed the dear body with the blood staining through his shirts and covering his breast and back. We found the bullet hole in front and back, having passed clear through, so small, so fatal. It had entered from the back and come out just above his heart, cutting a large artery. and Dr. V. says causing instant death. His face was bruised a little on one side,where he had fallen.
We dressed him in his black suit, and when all the sad service was done, he looked beautiful and noble, his firm mouth set in a look of resolution and his whole face calm in repose. I printed a kiss on his forehead for his mother's sake. A white carnation is in his buttonhole, and wreaths of flowers are being made. Our children made a cross and crown of the beautiful almond blossoms now in bloom.
The Governor came at once, expressing great sorrow, saying, "He has written his name in our hearts and in our history." The Anjuman (national assembly) sent a letter, saying they wished a share in doing him honor, and asked that the funeral be put off till tomorrow...
I have often found myself in a difficult dilemma. Sometimes, as a missionary, one can not help but become deeply involved in the lives of the people where one is serving. After so many years of trying to adapt, even adopting the culture, it is not easy to avoid opinions of the political nature. Especially when you see a government that is abusing the citizen. Even more so when you realize that many measures could endanger the Christian cause.
When it comes to communism, there has never been a place where Christianity was allowed to flourish under this system without much difficulty and persecution. I see no reason to believe it will be different in Venezuela if the current system is left unchanged. Add to that all the new alliances with radical Islam, how can the christian missionary not be concerned? How can you not warn, or at least try to prepare, the congregation for the persecution to come?All this has to be tempered by the reality that our primary mission is to evangelize the unsaved and serve the people as our Lord would.
The dilemma is knowing when and where to draw the line. I have not always been able to do this. I have grown to identify so much with the people of Venezuela, I can not turn a blind eye.
I was encouraged as I began to research and found that others before me have experienced the same problem.
One missionary I remembered reading about many years ago, Howard Baskerville , seemed to feel as I. He was a missionary who served in Iran.
Howard Baskerville said that he joined his students and took up arms for the nationalist movement, "as a matter of conscience." He ended up dying, while actually defending the Iranians. He is buried in Tabriz.
I am not condoning violence. I do applaud bravery and the defense of the weak.
Until recently, he was considered a hero by the Iranians. Much the same as we American revere Lafayette, who fought with us in the revolutionary war, Baskerville was honored as the American missionary who fought with his students.
He died in the siege of Tabriz leading a student contingent, in April of 1909. He was buried there in Iranian soil.
The following are excerpts from a letter, written by an American missionary wife, to inform his parents of their son's deeds.
My Dear Dr. & Mrs. Baskerville,
You have heard long before this letter reaches you that your dear boy has laid down his life. It is almost three weeks since he resigned his position at the mission school, though he has come to see us six times since. The last time was last night. Just before starting to battle. He told us it was a desperate attempt to open the road and get food into this starving city. We had prayer together. Mr. Wilson praying only for his protection and commending him to God's care. Mr. Baskerville himself prayed only for others, "this city to be relieved," "the dear ones of the Mission to be kept in safety, and for peace to be obtained." - not a word of himself.
In the night a soldier brought a note from him, "Dangerous rumor that the Europeans will be attacked to secure immediate intervention. don't be on the streets today." The first Sunday after he joined the army he came to church and sat in his usual seat, - the second in front - and had quite an ovation afterward, the men pressing round him to shake hands. That afternoon he came to see us. I begged him not to be reckless, saying "You know you are not your own." "No," he answered, "I am Persia's."
And then of their son's death.
We carried him to our room and laid him on our own bed, and Mrs. Vannemen and I washed the dear body with the blood staining through his shirts and covering his breast and back. We found the bullet hole in front and back, having passed clear through, so small, so fatal. It had entered from the back and come out just above his heart, cutting a large artery. and Dr. V. says causing instant death. His face was bruised a little on one side,where he had fallen.
We dressed him in his black suit, and when all the sad service was done, he looked beautiful and noble, his firm mouth set in a look of resolution and his whole face calm in repose. I printed a kiss on his forehead for his mother's sake. A white carnation is in his buttonhole, and wreaths of flowers are being made. Our children made a cross and crown of the beautiful almond blossoms now in bloom.
The Governor came at once, expressing great sorrow, saying, "He has written his name in our hearts and in our history." The Anjuman (national assembly) sent a letter, saying they wished a share in doing him honor, and asked that the funeral be put off till tomorrow...
Saturday, February 12, 2011
How to make rain
I am not as qualified on this as my children are. My children were making rain long before I was even aware that it was possible to make rain. Silly me, I thought rain was only caused by the climate and certain events out of the control of mere humans. Later, I would find out that even young children can cause a storm!! Yes,and can also stop a storm!
My four children grew up on the banks of the Chajura River in the southern most part of the state of Bolivar in Venezuela. Right in the middle of the Amazon jungle. We say they grew up 'on the banks' of the river, but really, they 'grew up IN the river'.
We used the river for our water supply, it was our bath tub, our laundry, our kitchen sink! Each child would carry buckets of water up to the house several times a day. Even the youngest was given her own small bucket as soon as she was walking. It was a small plastic bucket which originally had chocolate milk powder in it. A Taco bucket. She was very proud of her own bucket!
All of my children swam like fish. Under water, against the current, climbing up slippery muddy banks. Slithering over wet mossy rocks. Climbing trees in search of vines to use to swing out over the river and jump from. This was all fine by me, but, in truth, I never learned to do much more than a glorified doggy paddle. My children felt so sorry for me! Luckily, their father was just as adept in the water as they were. This worked out well for me as I spent many an afternoon in peace as the children entertained themselves in the river.
After a few years living in the jungle, an old lady came up to the house very irate! We had a severe storm the night before and had seen the river rise overnight to the highest level anyone alive had ever witnessed. So high, in fact, that a few of the houses closest to the river had actually flooded. This 'nosamo', old grandmother, had awoken in the night to find the water up to the level of her hammock!!! And it was my children's fault!
She came to warn me of the dire events which my children were causing! My sweet innocent, fun loving children were changing the weather patterns. They were causing it to rain! I had mistakenly assumed the Rain Forest was so named due to the inevitable fact that it rained several months out of the year. But it seems, my children were causing it to rain more often and much harder than normal.
I needed to make them stop! I was taken aback, how could I stop my children from making rain????
The old grand mother, having given me the warning, turned and left me standing in awe of the power and talent of my children! My children could make rain! I did not know how they managed to do this, but, did they?
A few hours later, four wet, tired children made their way up from the river path, each with a bucket of water, which they emptied into the water barrel beside the house. I asked them,
"Do you know that you made it rain and flood last night?"
They looked sheepishly from one another, and I knew that they DID know how to make rain! And they had done it on purpose!
"So... you know that you are making rain?"
Four small heads nodded in agreement. How could I admit to them that they were so much more advanced than I. They not only knew they had made rain, they knew I did not know beans about it!
I warned them!
"Nosamo came by and said I have to make you all stop causing the rain! She was flooded out of her house last night!"
Four faces looked at me in complete belief.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourselves? You have to stop this rain making business, it bothers the people!"
Four innocent pairs of eyes, looking up at me... aw, shucks! Forget my pride!
"UM...how exactly do you make rain?"
Four mouths opened excitedly to share the details! It seems all you have to do to cause rain is to horseplay on the river too much at the wrong places! If you play around too much, the river goddess gets angry! She will talk to the other spirits and will cause a lot of rain!
My children knew this from talking with the other children. But, the favorite rock to climb upon, the best place to play King of the Mountain, was in the wrong place in the river. My children had decided to play anyway. They wanted the indians to know that they were not afraid of any old river goddess!
They had been warned, but had chosen to continue...thus causing rain. Then they had decided that making rain was fun! It was exhilarating to make rain and have everyone know YOU had caused it!
"Besides," they said, "We can always make the rain stop!"
Once again feeling the fool, I had to ask,
"How do you stop the rain?"
Four smug smirks!
"By cutting the rain with a machete, of course!"
My son grabbed up the ever handy machete and began to slice through the air in a sideways motion. It seems that is how one makes the rain to stop. I had observed the Ye'kwanas doing this so often and had never realized what they were doing! I just thought it was a habit or something to do when bored. Swing a machete to pass the time while riding in a canoe, or working in the garden. I never knew it was to stop the rain.
But my children knew!
To this day, if it is raining hard, I find myself tempted to 'cut the rain'.
This is what happens when you spend too much time in another culture.
My four children grew up on the banks of the Chajura River in the southern most part of the state of Bolivar in Venezuela. Right in the middle of the Amazon jungle. We say they grew up 'on the banks' of the river, but really, they 'grew up IN the river'.
We used the river for our water supply, it was our bath tub, our laundry, our kitchen sink! Each child would carry buckets of water up to the house several times a day. Even the youngest was given her own small bucket as soon as she was walking. It was a small plastic bucket which originally had chocolate milk powder in it. A Taco bucket. She was very proud of her own bucket!
All of my children swam like fish. Under water, against the current, climbing up slippery muddy banks. Slithering over wet mossy rocks. Climbing trees in search of vines to use to swing out over the river and jump from. This was all fine by me, but, in truth, I never learned to do much more than a glorified doggy paddle. My children felt so sorry for me! Luckily, their father was just as adept in the water as they were. This worked out well for me as I spent many an afternoon in peace as the children entertained themselves in the river.
After a few years living in the jungle, an old lady came up to the house very irate! We had a severe storm the night before and had seen the river rise overnight to the highest level anyone alive had ever witnessed. So high, in fact, that a few of the houses closest to the river had actually flooded. This 'nosamo', old grandmother, had awoken in the night to find the water up to the level of her hammock!!! And it was my children's fault!
She came to warn me of the dire events which my children were causing! My sweet innocent, fun loving children were changing the weather patterns. They were causing it to rain! I had mistakenly assumed the Rain Forest was so named due to the inevitable fact that it rained several months out of the year. But it seems, my children were causing it to rain more often and much harder than normal.
I needed to make them stop! I was taken aback, how could I stop my children from making rain????
The old grand mother, having given me the warning, turned and left me standing in awe of the power and talent of my children! My children could make rain! I did not know how they managed to do this, but, did they?
A few hours later, four wet, tired children made their way up from the river path, each with a bucket of water, which they emptied into the water barrel beside the house. I asked them,
"Do you know that you made it rain and flood last night?"
They looked sheepishly from one another, and I knew that they DID know how to make rain! And they had done it on purpose!
"So... you know that you are making rain?"
Four small heads nodded in agreement. How could I admit to them that they were so much more advanced than I. They not only knew they had made rain, they knew I did not know beans about it!
I warned them!
"Nosamo came by and said I have to make you all stop causing the rain! She was flooded out of her house last night!"
Four faces looked at me in complete belief.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourselves? You have to stop this rain making business, it bothers the people!"
Four innocent pairs of eyes, looking up at me... aw, shucks! Forget my pride!
"UM...how exactly do you make rain?"
Four mouths opened excitedly to share the details! It seems all you have to do to cause rain is to horseplay on the river too much at the wrong places! If you play around too much, the river goddess gets angry! She will talk to the other spirits and will cause a lot of rain!
My children knew this from talking with the other children. But, the favorite rock to climb upon, the best place to play King of the Mountain, was in the wrong place in the river. My children had decided to play anyway. They wanted the indians to know that they were not afraid of any old river goddess!
They had been warned, but had chosen to continue...thus causing rain. Then they had decided that making rain was fun! It was exhilarating to make rain and have everyone know YOU had caused it!
"Besides," they said, "We can always make the rain stop!"
Once again feeling the fool, I had to ask,
"How do you stop the rain?"
Four smug smirks!
"By cutting the rain with a machete, of course!"
My son grabbed up the ever handy machete and began to slice through the air in a sideways motion. It seems that is how one makes the rain to stop. I had observed the Ye'kwanas doing this so often and had never realized what they were doing! I just thought it was a habit or something to do when bored. Swing a machete to pass the time while riding in a canoe, or working in the garden. I never knew it was to stop the rain.
But my children knew!
To this day, if it is raining hard, I find myself tempted to 'cut the rain'.
This is what happens when you spend too much time in another culture.
A Ye'kwana man cutting the rain to make it stop
in order to continue the soccer match!
in order to continue the soccer match!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Happy Birthday Ye'kwanaman !
A meme about my hubby.
( I gave my heart to a Marine!)
1. He’s sitting in front of the TV; what is on the screen?
Action movie
2. You’re out to eat; what kind of dressing does he get on his salad?
Ceasar
3. What’s one food he doesn’t like?
Strawberry ice cream
4. You go out to the bar. What does he order?
We don’t go to bars…
(At my son's wedding.)
5. Where did he go to high school?
Zanesville, Ohio
6. What size shoe does he wear?
10
7. If he was to collect anything, what would it be?
He collects knives and first edition old books.
8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?Venezuelan pepito
9. What would this person eat every day if he could?
Steak
10. What is his favorite cereal?
Honey Nut Cherrios
11. What would he never wear?
Anything with a NY Yankee emblem (or an image of Che)
12. What is his favorite sports team?
Boston Red Sox!
(Just chillin')
13. Who will he vote for?
Not Obama!
14. Who is his best friend?
ME! And his children.
15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn’t do?
He does not like it when I do more than I should!
16. How many states has he lived in?
9 US states and 4 countries.
17. What is his heritage?
French/English...and third generation marine from Beaufort, S.C.!
(At the beach in Beaufort.)
18. You bake him a cake for his birthday; what kind of cake?
Cheese Cake
19. Did he play sports in high school?
Football in Jr. High and Marching band (trumpet) in High School.
20. What could he spend hours doing?
Reading Greek and Biblical translation.
( I gave my heart to a Marine!)
Action movie
2. You’re out to eat; what kind of dressing does he get on his salad?
Ceasar
(Treating indian patients.)
3. What’s one food he doesn’t like?
Strawberry ice cream
4. You go out to the bar. What does he order?
We don’t go to bars…
(At my son's wedding.)5. Where did he go to high school?
Zanesville, Ohio
6. What size shoe does he wear?
10
(Baby Jessica7. If he was to collect anything, what would it be?
He collects knives and first edition old books.
(Delivering the New Testament, translated into Ye'kwana, to a village)
8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?Venezuelan pepito
(With the Chief)9. What would this person eat every day if he could?
Steak
10. What is his favorite cereal?
Honey Nut Cherrios
11. What would he never wear?
Anything with a NY Yankee emblem (or an image of Che)
(Providing dental care for the tribe)
12. What is his favorite sports team?
Boston Red Sox!
(Just chillin')13. Who will he vote for?
Not Obama!
14. Who is his best friend?
ME! And his children.
15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn’t do?
He does not like it when I do more than I should!
16. How many states has he lived in?
9 US states and 4 countries.
17. What is his heritage?
French/English...and third generation marine from Beaufort, S.C.!
(At the beach in Beaufort.)18. You bake him a cake for his birthday; what kind of cake?
Cheese Cake
19. Did he play sports in high school?
Football in Jr. High and Marching band (trumpet) in High School.
(Baby dedication)
20. What could he spend hours doing?
Reading Greek and Biblical translation.
( Reading the Greek New Testament with youngest grand daughter)
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
The Things I See...
Security walls around our house.
Very Lo ~Tech
The neighbor's pet peacock is our guard dog!
Nothing gets past KEVIN!
Glenn B said...
A peacock is not as much a 'guard dog' but more the 'watch dog'. If someone has never heard the alarm cry of a peacock before it is understandable how they would not realize just how good of a watch dog they could be.
First time ever that I heard a peacock was on a very dark night when I was in the Border patrol. It was our quiet season and I was reading a book by flashlight - The Shining. Shame on me for reading on duty but got mine for doing it.
There was a sensor hit and I had to go check it. I got out of my vehicle, and was following the tracks of some illegal aliens across a farm lot. Suddenly I heard an ear piercing low then high pitched scream followed by about 4 other spurts of terrible and very scary noise. Then, just as suddenly, I heard a strange noise like wings flapping rapidly and the next thing I knew a peacock was in my face wings beating me furiously. Hmm, maybe they do qualify as guard dog after all!
I just about had a heart attack. Stopped me from reading scary books at night while working.
All the best,
Glenn B
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Today is my Mom's Birthday!
My mother , expecting me, with my sister and the family television.
(Not sure why the TV was part of the photo...)
Taken while my father studied at Bob Jones University
With Mom at my wedding.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!
(Not sure why the TV was part of the photo...)
My mother and sister adore me!
Good times!
And along came baby brother!
Easter Morning at Kampus Kourt in Greenville, SC
Church planting ministry in Arcadia, Florida.
This was the last family photo taken before my marriage.
With Mom at my wedding.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!
Friday, February 04, 2011
The Things I See..
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Happy 54th Birthday to Ciudad del Este, Paragauy!
Capital del Departamento de Alto Paraná, situada a 327 km de la capital, Asunción. Por su población y desarrollo económico es segunda ciudad del Paraguay, con 340.000 habitantes.
Photos of Ciudad del Este
Fue fundada por decreto el 3 de febrero de 1957 con el nombre de "Puerto Flor de Liz". Más tarde honrando al dictador Alfredo Stroessner quien impulsó su construccion, se llamó "Puerto Presidente Stroessner", luego “Ciudad Presidente Stroessner”, hasta el golpe de estado que depuso al Presidente, el 3 de febrero de 1989. En esta fecha el comando revolucionario, utilizó el nombre de Ciudad del Este; en dÃas posteriores, fue plebiscitado el nuevo nombre que se le darÃa a la ciudad y los ciudadanos eligieron el de Ciudad del Este.
***
Fotos Actual de Ciudad Del Este
Este álbum fue posible gracias a la gentileza de nuestros queridos amigos de la comunidad de Orkut : CIUDAD DEL ESTE EN FOTOGRAFIAS , de nuestros miembros en la comunidad PARAGUAY EN FOTOGRAFIAS de Orkut y de Facebook
Base principal de datos en el foro : Ciudad del Este
http://www.orkut.com/Main#CommMsgs?cmm=56366378&tid=5479117559416638314&kw=Ciudad+del+Este
Photos of Ciudad del Este
Fue fundada por decreto el 3 de febrero de 1957 con el nombre de "Puerto Flor de Liz". Más tarde honrando al dictador Alfredo Stroessner quien impulsó su construccion, se llamó "Puerto Presidente Stroessner", luego “Ciudad Presidente Stroessner”, hasta el golpe de estado que depuso al Presidente, el 3 de febrero de 1989. En esta fecha el comando revolucionario, utilizó el nombre de Ciudad del Este; en dÃas posteriores, fue plebiscitado el nuevo nombre que se le darÃa a la ciudad y los ciudadanos eligieron el de Ciudad del Este.
***
Fotos Actual de Ciudad Del Este
Este álbum fue posible gracias a la gentileza de nuestros queridos amigos de la comunidad de Orkut : CIUDAD DEL ESTE EN FOTOGRAFIAS , de nuestros miembros en la comunidad PARAGUAY EN FOTOGRAFIAS de Orkut y de Facebook
Base principal de datos en el foro : Ciudad del Este
http://www.orkut.com/Main#CommMsgs?cmm=56366378&tid=5479117559416638314&kw=Ciudad+del+Este
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Old Outhouse
When we first arrived in the village at the invitation of the Ye'kwana indians, they had helped us start building our house. Made of adobe bricks, jungle poles, mud for mortar, and a palm leaf roof, it was rustic.
We were living in an indian's house for several months while we built ours. At this time there was no water pump , and of course no running water means no indoor plumbing. Thus the need of an outhouse.
The outhouse we were "loaned" was a little skimpy as indians are not in much need of privacy. Amazing what one can train the body to do, or in this case, NOT to do. My husband and some indians set to building our own outhouse. I had one small request...WALLS, please!
He went beyond that and decided to build a TWO SEATER. WOW! The children were amazed at such luxuries and I was thrilled. Ok, so there was no door...but we had walls and it faced the jungle.
I hung up a sheet as a door which worked well except when windy, or if a dog.... or pig... or indian wanted to join you.
We waited for the next flight out to the village by the missionary pilots of MAF. We still had no short wave radio to communicate with anyone outside of the village.
The flight was scheduled for about a month ahead. The plane arrived with supplies, and we would give the pilot a list of things to buy for the next month. Then you waited. So the supplies , things like hinges for the doors, would take a month or more to get back to you.
Clint hired an indian to build us doors for the outhouse, and emphatically explained we wanted a way to lock the doors.We left for a short trip to town and upon our return, found two beautiful doors in place.
One small problem was that the homemade "latches" to lock the doors were placed on the outside as the indian was sure we had meant to say it that way, because who in their right mind would want to lock themselves IN such a place! Obviously, we meant to lock others OUT to keep them from getting in at all. Oh well, the joys of miscommunications in a cross-cultural environment.
I must say , the out house was great. Roomy, airy, and PRIVATE!Unless someone opened the door on you.
Around this time, we had American visitors and Jewel who was 4 or so, proudly escorted the lady to the outhouse and offered to stand guard outside the door. Jewel had recently been to McDonalds while in the city, and with great pride announced that our outhouse was, " just like McDonalds". To our final day in the jungle we refereed to the out house as "McDonalds" .We all made several trips to McDonalds a day. Upon questioning her, we determined she was referring to the two seats and the stalls in McDonalds. Oh to be a kid.
So it was common to be in the outhouse and hearing someone approach to call out,
" Ocupado!" (occupied) so as not to have another person run right in on you. And as was the usual case, the person on the outside would feel compelled to start up a conversation with you.
One day, yours truly is in the outhouse and hears rustling outside. I figured it to be one of my family and called out, "ocupado"! The rustling continued. Sometimes closer, I would say, "STILL OCUPADO", and the rustling would move off. This happened several times. Finally as I opened the door, all the while talking to my loved one who had patiently waited their turn, I ran face to face with a ...PIG!
I must say it was the politest pig I have ever met. I stood with the door ajar and the pig moseyed on in ...
I told the family about the visit by the friendly pig and for a few days, every time I would enter McDonalds, one of them would make sure to come out and make pig grunts for my enjoyment. Jackie is the champion Pig Impersonator of the family!!!
One day, the pig sounds were particularly obnoxious. I kept rebuking the person I most suspected, my hubby! I had been calling out for "CLINT" to stop and leave me in peace and was quite miffed at him for pursuing his game well past the point of comedy, but when I opened the door, it was to find the largest, wild pig I have ever seen, and this one was not polite!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
The Things I See...
Multicultural Christmas traditions at our house...
Homemade Venezuelan Pan de Jamon
Paraguayan fireworks at midnight!
Homemade American Apple Pie
Homemade Venezuelan Pan de Jamon
Paraguayan fireworks at midnight!
English 'crackers' for the kids!
Sunday, January 09, 2011
Friday, January 07, 2011
A Meme about Me
Its all about me!
A is for age: None of you business!
B is for books: Hard to choose...I love history!
C is for career: Missionary Wife and Stay At Home Mom
D is for dad's name: Rev. Jack Riffe
E is for essential items to bring to a party: a good sense of humor
F is for favorite song at the moment: Este Dia
H is for hometown: uh...that's a hard one!Right now, Ciudad del este,Paraguay
I is for instruments you play: I play a keyboard, computer keyboard that is!
J is for jam or jelly you like: Strawberry jelly
K is for kids: Four! Jackie, married and in Paraguay with three daughters of her own, Joshua, married and living in Tampa,Florida, Jewel, 20 and in college in Jax, Fla, and Jayde, 16 living at home with us and homeschooled.
L is for living arrangements: renting an older in typical latin american style home.
M is for moms name: Loretta Riffe
N is for name of your best friends: Clint (husband)
O is for overnight hospital stays: You dont want to hear them all!!! 4 births,2 back surgeries, 4 other surgeries, 1 miscarriage, # times during pregnancy...
P is for phobia[s]: Being enclosed in small places ( claustrophobia) and MOUSEaphobia!
Q is for quote you like: Just Do it!
R is for relationship that lasted the longest: actually, my friend, Kim Leanard of nearly 30 years
S is for siblings: middle child. Older sister and younger brother.
U is for unique trait(s): uh...uh...I dont think so.
V is for vegetable you love: broccoli
W is for worst trait: sarcasm , duh?!?!?!
X is for x-rays you've had: again, you dont want to hear them all!
Y is for yummy food you make: sweet rolls
Z is for favorite animal at the zoo: monkeys
FIRSTS:
First job: Health Food Store in Cambridge, Ohio
First funeral: Pastor of Faith Baptist Church ( cant remember his name but I do remember the funeral, Thorton, I think!)
First piercing: Ears for my 12 th birthday
First tattoo: No thank you
First credit card: Cato's
First favorite musician/band: Cathedral's WAY back.
LASTS:Last movie watched: Irving Berlin's Holiday Inn
Last beverage drank: what do you think? Coffee
Last food consumed: Chocolate
Last phone call: to my daughter here in Paraguay
Last CD played: Bluegrass group, The Student Loan
Last website visited: Facebook
Single or Taken: Taken!
What do you miss? My kids ibn the USA
Hair color: Red with some natural gey high lights, he he.
Natural color: red
Eye color: greenish blue
Makes you sad: The Chavez Regime in power
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
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