Lighting, Lightning, and Sharing the Light of the World

I’m currently at my desk in the two-room hut, typing this up so I won’t have to waste two hour’s of internet funds on work that I can do right now to the tune of the blessed mosquitoes singing lustily in my ears despite the wisping smoke from two flanking Baygon coils. I even paperclipped one coil to my John Deer hat. I feel as fearsome as Captain Blackbeard himself, but the mosquitoes remain unimpressed, except for the three that made the mistake of backlighting themselves in front of my computer screen—they’ve been thoroughly impressed — into print on my palms! Touché.

Actually, the fact that I still have light at this hour, as well as power for my consumadora and its half-an-hour battery, is thanks to a recent upgrade to our electrical system. Last week, Clint and Ruan hooked up four massive 700 amp, twelve-volt batteries, the type that are used to back up cell phone service providers. They come in six, two-volt cells inside a metal box, and we have them connected in pairs. It takes the generator four to six hours to charge them completely when they are dead. Fully charged, the batteries supply our power needs for two to three days.

To save on generator fuel, Clint asked Noel, Max, Joaquín and me to move the solar panels from the old system and hook them up to the new batteries. The solar panels were all wired together on top of several four-meter posts. Rather than unwire all of them and take them down one at a time, I borrowed Ruan’s climbing rope, tied the panels in three loops, and passed the rope over the peak of a nearby roof. One of the boys held the rope while the rest of us cut the support posts and lowered the whole shebang in one “fell swoop.” Getting them up to their new home atop a fragile fiberglass roof was not so easy, however. We had them hoisted halfway up when we almost lost them due to a miscommunication with the rope handler on the other side of the building. Thankfully, we regained control of our expensive burden, and now everything is hooked up and functioning for the time being.

Speaking of all things electrical, last week I witnessed the most intense thunderless lightning storm that I have ever seen, according to my following journal entry dated 9/18:

Every three seconds all horizons flash, 360 degrees of electric sky, and the buzzing insects provide the only sound effects… 40 minutes, and no sign of letting up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say God has opened a discothèque! Instead, I’d say He’s just playing with the light switches, or having an all-night photo shoot so He can archive a face-book directory of all the angels.

At any rate, the bugs are really getting into it. I can see the fireflies and luciernagas, the moths like roadside reflectors of passing trucks, insects going berserk, as if there has been some emergency. The crickets all have their sirens on. The big lights say there’s been a traffic accident on Saturn, but all units are already out on a high-speed chase just south of the Milky Way.

Fortunately we have had a little rain and cooler weather along with all the lightning, and the air is a bit cleaner now. The neighbors have all been burning their chacos, the trees and brush that they cut in order to plant rice and yucca, and the air is so full of smoke at times that it makes your throat go sore, the sun set red and deep, and the moon rise bright as a tangerine.

We’re still cutting our own chaco. I like to think I am gaining some modest skill with the machete, though my accuracy is still lacking. For some reason it is very satisfying to fell a two-inch tree with a single stroke.

It is incredible how much you sweat out there. You know you’ve sweat a lot when your clothes cling to your body and insects drown in your runoff. The worst is that the flies and hornets love the salty syrup of sweat. I’ve learned to look before I swat.

Despite all that drama, things have settled down here you might say, making room for new problems! But the beautiful thing about problems is they keep you busy praying and trusting in God.

There has been a lot of sickness lately. Right now there are six students down with aches and fever. The good news is that the malaria tests all came back negative this time. We’ve had no new cases since the last outbreak I mentioned. Only, Mamerto Zapani, one of our staff members, contracted malaria shortly after leaving to visit his deathly ill father. He returned yesterday, and though weak, seems to be recovering.

Other than that, Alcides, one of our third year boys had what we think was dengue, or broke-back fever, another mosquito-bourn nicety. I had it when I was here in 2006 and I can vouch for the appropriateness of the nickname. The good news is that you can only get it once. The bad news is, you only have one back, and there are four different kinds of dengue. Also, the antibodies from one type sometimes react with those from another, causing more mayhem.

Last week, Barbara, one of our freshmen, was having terrible stomach pain that did not respond to medicine. The initial diagnosis was gallstones, and the doctors wanted to operate. We were reticent to let them do the operation, however, because of their limited resources and experience. (When Kaila Valenzuela Flores, one of our volunteers, injured her knees in a motorcycle accident this last spring, (you can read the story in the July archives of Ruan and Tara's blog) they sewed her up without cleaning her wounds sufficiently and she got a terrible infection.) The pain got so bad however, that we went ahead and let the doctors operate. They ended up taking out her appendix. She is back at the school now, and already able to walk without assistance, gracias a Dios.

This last week was week of mission emphasis. Every night we shared slide shows, videos, and stories from missionaries around the world. Some of the stories made our problems here look like nothing. I realized how little I have really sacrificed to the cause of God. The students were encouraged and inspired as well. Limbert, one of our sophomore boys, really wants to go to the Philippines.

Speaking of mission service, every Sabbath afternoon we visit the people in Yata and sing, pray, and study the Bible with them. It’s really a neat experience for the kids, as well as a great way to reach out to the community. During the week, the students also do clinicals and other community service projects.

This week, Juan and Juana, the couple that my group usually studies with, wasn’t home, so we went wandering to see who else we could visit. First we stopped at the neighbors, a house the kids have never gone to. The inhabitants weren’t too excited about our company, and took about five minutes to drag themselves out of the house, and then only the señor would sit and visit. But in the end he let us sing him a song and have a prayer with him, and I have a suspicion he liked it more than he had expected, because he told us we could come back any time.

The next person we visited was an older gentleman named Humberto. He was thrilled to have the company, mainly, it seemed, to have someone to talk to, although when we sang to him I was afraid he was going to break his face smiling. We shared a few Bible texts, and then asked him if he had any prayer requests, or anything we could help him with. He told us that all his family has passed away and he only has one friend who comes to visit him. Also, his house burned down recently, and he’s been having stomach problems that left him incapacitated for weeks. “This guy’s worse off than Job,” I thought.

“More than anything, I’m lonely” he said. “I’ve seen your groups visiting other houses, and every week I’m like a dog trailing along behind, hoping to be noticed, but it seems like they never want to come.”

The kids were visibly affected by this revelation, and promised to return every week.

“There was a missionary girl from Columbia from your school who used to visit me, a very nice young lady, but she stopped coming and I didn’t know what happened. She promised to bring me a Bible, but she never did.” Humberto continued.

I recently bought a Spanish Bible here, and I don’t know why I didn’t think to give it to him on the spot, but I’m going to give him one next week for sure, along with a copy of the Great Controversy.

Classes are keeping me busy. The kids are making progress in chime choir. I think we’ll be ready to play a hymn for church in another week or two. Voice choir is fun, too, although many of the kids haven’t had much musical background, and some still cannot match a pitch to save their lives, let alone read music.

I’m also teaching my first piano lesson ever. Max Miro, one of the third year boys was asking for lessons long before I arrived, and before the school even had a piano. He’s learning fast. Amazing what a little desire can accomplish. For my part, I’m reviewing some of the theory that I never learned as well as trying to memorize the music terminology in Spanish. Pointing with some basic descriptors works pretty well in a pinch, however: that black thing there with the tail on it gets one beat. :) (Incidently, quarter notes are called negras or “black notes,” which tells you nothing about the time it receives.) Despite such challenges, my literature classes are the most difficult for me, mainly because it’s just plain hard to teach literature in your second language! Fortunately, most of the principles of good reading and writing still apply, and even many of the grammar and punctuation rules carry over. We’ve been reading The Voice in Speech and Song, and I’m making the kids read aloud and evaluate each other on volume, clarity, posture, pacing, and expression.

What I really struggle to teach them more than anything is how to think critically. I’m not sure what more to do for them, other than to keep pushing them, asking questions, and trying to model my thinking process. Today we talked about the importance of reading for understanding and not just “barking at print.” I introduced the strategies of paying attention, (only half kidding) reading in context, and breaking down unfamiliar words to help guess their meaning. (Curiously, one of the examples I stumbled upon is that ostentación (ostentation, showiness) contains the word tentación (temptation). Thinking of Matthew chapter four, it’s easy to see why! Satan either tempts you with some big show, or he tempts you to make a big show of yourself!)

I had all my students write me a personal essay so I could get to know them better and diagnose their writing abilities at the same time. The first part was fun—the latter, not so much. Many of them really struggle. I had one-on-one conferences with them and then they rewrote their essays, some of them exactly the same as before. A few of them really improved, however, and I plan to eventually post some of their stories on the website in both English and Spanish.

Tomorrow is student day, a national holiday here in Bolivia. The staff is getting up at five in the morning to sing to the kids—the same treatment they dole out to birthday boys and girls, minus the trip to the arroyo for an early morning dip. (Really gives one a lot of ganas to get older.) We couldn’t do anything else special for the kids tomorrow, but on Thursday we’re going to Nueva Canaan, a Christian retreat center just outside of Guayaramerín. As long as we don’t have to march around Jerico, I’ll be happy… although I could stand for a few walls to come down… my visa situation is still in the works. I have accumulated a month’s worth of fines while waiting for my Interpol to come through, only to find out that they will no longer send us the document from Santa Cruz and we will instead have to go in person to Trinidad. At this rate, I’ll probably get my residency just in time for the end of the school year. Ruan and Tara say it must mean I’m supposed to come back here next year. Who knows? Anyway, it's late, and I have class at eight tomorrow morning. ¡Gracia y paz a cada uno de vosotros!

Problemas

This is my fourth week of round two here at U.E.T.I.R.G. (pronounced “way-teer,” its an acronym for Unidad Educativa Technical Industrial de Richard Gates) the little school with a big name and a bigger purpose out here in the medio-selva of northeastern Bolivia. So much has happened since I wrote last: a building has gone up, another has almost gone up—in smoke — a lot of trees have come down, to cut into lumber to sell and to use here in construction.* Six students have been kicked out, I spent 36 hours riding the bus to Rurrenebaque and back to take another student home, trimester grades were due last Friday, we started a pathfinder club, one of the school’s motor bikes was stolen, we’ve had an outbreak of malaria at the school, and my visa has expired! I’m still working on all the paperwork to get legal again.

In my last post I mentioned the students who were kicked out. Well, one of the girls named Luzmar (Light-Sea in English) was afraid to face her mother after being expelled, and jumped from the truck while she was being taken home. Thankfully the truck wasn’t going very fast and she was not hurt, but she had to be restrained by two teachers for the rest of the ride to town as she kept screaming “I don’t want to go home, I want to be with Jesús” (I’m pretty sure she was referring to the boy named Jesús who she had been sneaking out with, but who knows, as she seemed intent on throwing herself out of the truck again.) Now we’re beginning to understand why she did not want to go home. Her mother was irate when she found out her daughter was expelled, and immediately threatened that we would be sorry. Since then, she has begun a campaign to shut down the school, coming up with all kinds of wild accusations, saying that we pushed her daughter out of the truck and that she was badly injured and had to go to Cochabamba for medical attention. She also claims that we mistreat the students here, even airing an advertisement on TV warning against our school. And all of this even though she is an Adventist sister who was previously very supportive, assisting with student accounts and paperwork, and helping to acquire documents for the students, many of whom came here from the primary/school orphanage Familia Feliz in Rurrenebaque. It wasn’t until recently we discovered that she was obtaining these documents in an illegal and fraudulent manner, but that is another story. At any rate, she promises not to rest until she has done everything she can to bring us down.

As a result of her complaints, the district officials for the department of education came to visit last week and interrogated us extensively on the nature of our school, what the program is like, are our teachers certified, how do we treat the students, how do we practice our religion… they also interviewed individual students, and toured the whole school. None of the administrative team was here that day, but Kaila and Lyli (two of our volunteer teachers from Mexico) did a good job answering their questions. To tell the truth, it was a great opportunity to glorify God to these men who were visibly shocked by the singular nature and purpose of the school. By the time they left, it seemed they were satisfied that the accusations against us are false. Even so, this is just the beginning.

The first court hearing was this last Tuesday. The Bolivian equivalent of Child Protective Services is kind of siding with the mother. There is a Bolivian law that says a student cannot be expelled for being pregnant, and they are construing it to mean that we cannot expel students for being out together at night, even though this was not the first offense, and the staff has been working with these kids for a long time to get them to change and follow the rules. Fortunately, God has blessed us with a good lawyer who has been very kind and helpful, promising to do everything in her power to help us — so far, without cost!

With all the rumors flying around about the school, we thought it would be good to clear the air a little bit, so on Sunday we had a general assembly with all the students’ parents as well as the local pastor and any church members who wanted to come. After a small musical program where the students performed some numbers and shared their testimonies about what the school has done for them, we had a question and answer session in which staff and students shared their side of the story. Noel, one of our third year boys, explained that he has seen Luzmar in town shopping after her jump from the truck. He talked to her and she said her mom was sending her away to the school in Cochabama. She showed no sign of injury whatsoever.

The meeting went well, and the parents and church members were all very supportive. Many of them shared what a blessing the school has been to them and their children. One non-Adventist mother was especially adamant in her support. That is another blessing: strengthened relationships with student’s parents and the local Adventist churches. So am I worried? No, not at all. This is God’s school. I’m just privileged to serve here and to see what great things the Lord is doing and to be a small part of it. We have nothing to hide and nothing to fear.

Unfortunately, right in the middle of all this we had another crisis to deal with… To save time, I’ll tell the story here in present tense, as I wrote it while sitting up half the night. The first part has to do with the wood we’ve been cutting in the jungle, but it leads into the other story:

* 8/24/09 Mr. Dion, Ruan’s dad who comes here every few months to help out, cuts the lumber on a portable milling saw, and we’ve been carrying the boards out of the jungle on our backs. They’re wet and solid hardwood and my shoulder is still sore from two days ago when I helped carry out a load of 12 foot 2x6’s to sell in town. As the board cut into my shoulder, I thought of Christ and wondered how he ever bore the cross at all after being scourged nearly to death, not to mention staying up the entire night before, sweating drops of blood, carrying “the weight of the world on His shoulders” as we like to say, the salvation of the human race, the risk of eternal loss, and the pain of complete separation from His other 2/3^rds. Wow. And I, with nothing but the weight of half a cross, stooped and stumbled, and the in the end needed help bearing my burden the last half of the 500 meter-or-so trek between the fallen and milled tree and the lumber cart waiting on our unfinished runway. From there, we wrestled the over-laden cart another few-hundred meters to the school and the waiting truck.

(Here followed an explanation of the problems with Luzmar.)

On the other side of my hut is a young man lying on the top bunk, feeling a weight of guilt and despair that he cannot carry as easily as he carried the 2x6’s out of the jungle. His name is Marki (Changed for privacy), and I am here to watch him and make sure he does not try to harm himself like Luzmar did. It is going to be a long night. I’m watching my Manutata velas (candles) burn themselves down one at a time until the last centimeters of wick have nothing solid left under them and begin to tilt and finally fall, extinguishing themselves in the plastered mess of their own melted bodies. But it does not happen all at once. Each candle starts out tall, with a strong blaze, each one’s melt drips slowly down the sides, hardens, and is overrun by new streams of displaced wax. Sometimes the sloughing sides seem to rise on themselves, the fresh drips building upward on each other, on the backs of congealed burrs that jut out just enough to hold them up and let them rise like liquid elevators, like barges in dam locks, until the overpowering volume of cascading wax spills over the ascending drops, engulfs them, and carries them back down to help bury the remains of the fallen: four black wicks, soon to be joined by another, their charred carcasses held fast in a molten lake that ices over from the outside, entombing them alongside two moths and a score of scorched gnats that lost their wings for a joyride through the flames. Even as I write, one comes winging in too close, and lights up like a match-head, with a poof, more like a miniature Hidenburg, and spirals against the base of the wick where he looks like a martyr, pegged to the stake, his burning abdomen snaps and crackles like popcorn. But he is no saint, or hero, he is a suicide: a moth worthy of the proverb that tritely symbolizes the self’s attraction to the wicked lights of destruction. How many must die? Is it really so fun to fly by fire? Don’t they see their floundering comrades below, squirming vainly to free themselves from the gel that thickens about their treading legs, sets their wings still as concrete?

I hear Marki turning in the bed across the room, and I know he must feel absolutely mortified. He told us he felt like this was the end for him. It was his flip-flops we found behind teacher Kaila’s house… I was over at Ruan and Tara’s when we heard her scream “someone is behind my house!” Ruan, Paeter, and I grabbed our lights and rushed out to see if we could catch the culprit. This was not the first time the girls thought they saw someone spying on them. This time it was unmistakable. Lyli was showering when she looked up and saw the silhouetted of someone standing on the top of the wall under the thatch roof. When she looked up, the head ducked back into the shadows. “Kaila, come here!” she called, and the shadow immediately leaped down behind the house and took off running. That was when Kaila called us. While we searched behind the house, someone else checked the dorm. Two boys were missing (one was just overlooked under his mosquito net.) Marki was already suspect, but when he showed up unexpectedly and without reason and hermano Mamerto’s house, he appeared barefoot and very serious. Meanwhile, Juaquin, Max, and I found his chanelas behind Kaila’s house, and that was the clincher.

We had another fire today. Ruan was burning the chaco just up the driveway, and the blaze started to get away from him. Mamerto, Gabriel, the boys and I came to the rescue, cut and wetted a line through the chest-high grass, and steered the fire away from Enrique’s house toward the creek. It burned quite a large area, but we saved the nearby banana trees and pineapple patch. With the fire out, we all went back to what we were doing before, only to see smoke billowing up a few minutes later. Some smoldering logs along our firebreak had burned like fuses, bridging the line to ignite the grass and call us back to the fight. Why is it that destructive fires are so tenacious, but the light of a candle is so easily snuffed out?

8-25. After class this morning, Ruan and I had a talk with Marki. Usually it would be the whold Ad. Committee that would talk to him, but most of them are gone today. Ruan is feeling bad because he’s spent the whole morning dealing with Rodolfo and Paulina’s parents who arrived last night to visit their kids and ask for a mountain of things including rice and a guitar (the latter which we could not give them, of course. But I guess they figured, “you have not because you ask not”). Ruan finally got them taken care of, only to have the Marki situation to deal with, and no ad-council members to support him. Kaila would be a good one to talk to him if not for the fact that she was one of his victims and he couldn’t bear to face her. So I told Ruan I would be happy to try to help him. Kaila, Ruan, Helen, and I had a prayer together, asked God for wisdom and the right words to say, and reminded ourselves that this is God’s school and Marki is God’s child. Then we went down to have the talk…

“What do you think we should do?” Ruan asked him.

“I want to leave,” he said. “I want to start over new.”

“What do you mean when you say ‘I want to start over new’” I asked.

“Go somewhere else” he said.

“And what happens next time you have the same problem? Will you go somewhere else again? Run away from your problems? You know that’s not the way to start new. The only way to truly have a new start is to realize what you did was wrong, feel sorry you did it, and ask for forgiveness, first of those you have wronged, and then from God. That is the first step in starting new.”

The anguish on his face was evident as I talked. I could see his pride fighting the conviction. “Lord, please give him the desire and the courage to make things right!” I prayed silently.

“Of course, it has to be your choice” I continued. “We can’t, nor do we want to force you, but you do need to know that whether you go or stay, that first step to start anew is the same.”

“Just know that we care about you, and we want to help you work through this” Ruan said.

I know God gave us the words to say, just as we had prayed.

Still, Marki remained intent on going home, and he could not bring himself to make things right before he left. With the whole ongoing Luzmar fiasco, we knew we couldn’t just let Marki go home by himself, especially since he is still a minor. Ruan asked me if I would make the 20 hour bus ride to Rurrenebaque where Marki’s father Carlos lives. I didn’t particularly want to, but someone had to do it, so I said “why not?” Besides, I’d get to see more of the country and have a chance to catch up on my writing. My trip there and back is another whole story, but I’ll just say that God really blessed and worked everything out. We missed our bus when it went past the school Tuesday morning, but after waiting about ten minutes at the end of the school driveway we got a free ride on a pickup truck to Riberalta where the bus stops again, and from there we booked passage to Rurre. Ruan had given me money for the bus fare, and said it should cost 120 b each, but they ended up charging us 140 ($20). Marki said it was “Gringo tax.” On my return trip when I was by myself, however, I got my ticket for the normal rate, so apparently the original rip-off was thanks to Marki con su cara tan de gringo.

Right after getting on the bus, another passenger who was arranging his luggage handed a notebook to Marki to hold onto for him. I glanced down to see that the front cover was plastered with a scantily clad woman. Marki quickly turned it over, looking embarrassed. “Tentación” he said. It made for a good segue into a conversation about the importance of guarding our thoughts.

We arrived at 11:40 pm in Rurrenebaque. Ruan was never able to contact Carlos and let him know his son was coming home, but he seemed to take it all in stride. Fortunately, Ruan was able to talk to Jerry, one of the volunteers at Rurre, and when I called Familia Feliz to let them know I was in town, Jerry was already on his way to pick me up. Originally, I had thought I would stay at Familia Feliz for a day or two, since the kids had off this last weekend and there were no classes anyway. Also, the bus for Guayara leaves Rurre early in the morning, and since I hadn’t gotten to bed until after 1:00 the night before, I wanted to sleep in a little. But when Jerry called from Rurre and said there was another bus that was leaving in half an hour, for some reason I felt like I should go. At the time, I thought it was because I needed to get back and work on the paperwork for my residency. It is 13 km of rough, muddy road between Familia Feliz and Rurre, and about halfway there I realized that there was no way I’d make it there in time. “Oh well, I guess I’ll stay here another day like I originally planned” I thought. But as we rolled into town, there was the bus, stopped on the side of the road as if it were waiting for me. Twenty-two hours of mud-holes and washboard later, I made it back to the school, just in time to come to town and work on getting my papers. Now here I am, still “working” on my papers. The first step was to get some pictures taken and send them along with a copy of my passport to Santa Cruz to get an Interpol background-check from the international police. I’ve sent for it twice already, and still no luck. Until I get that, I can’t really do anything else except pay the $2/day fine for my expired visa. It’s not just me that is having visa problems either. There are four or five of us right now who are all having the same problem.

Anyway, there is still more I have to share, but I’m running out of time. I just want to ask for your continued prayers. I’ve already seen God at work, using these trials to bring the staff and students closer together and closer to Him. I know that as we continue to seek Him, God will use all these trials to strengthen our faith and to bring honor and glory to His name.

Que Dios nestro Padre y el Señor Jesucrsito les concedan gracia y paz.

Water, Smoke and Fire

The highway out to the school cuts through the jungle like the Israelites’ path through the red sea. Passing traffic paints the trees a brownish-orange that makes them look dead, but in a growing death that closes in over the road to block out the sun and hinder the passing traffic.

How easy to be like one of those trees, planted just outside of the way, pretending to be dead to the world while underneath the self is all alive. Fortunately, there are other trees I saw, stripped of foliage, standing straight as arrows toward the sky, at the top of each a knot like a fist, from which protrudes a single branch, like a finger pointing to heaven.

Last week we were having a problem with the water system, so I climbed the water tower to look in the tank and watch the water level as Mr. Clint tested the different valves. At the top of the tower he boosted me up onto the tank where I removed the cover and looked down into 5000 liters that rippled behind my reflection, oscillating between concave and convex distortions of myself. And I thought, that same substance sloshes in my heart and head, so how can I avoid such instability? That shifting aqua-map of me is perhaps more accurate in its uncertainties than any glass mirror that shows me clear, steady, and better looking. But the most accurate picture of me is the one that God presents in His Holy Scriptures. I am created in His image and bought with His blood. I am worth the existence of worlds, galaxies, the very life of the Creator who sustains everything. And all of this despite the fact that I am a sinner, a transgressor of the Holy Law with a stone-hard heart and a head that’s thick between the ears, a dirty-dog of a wretch who deserves to die and be lost in the dust of the eternal ages.

But here I am, gracias a Dios. I wish I could share everything with you. A lot has happened in the last week and a half.

All the walls on the girls dorm are up, all 24,000 bricks of them. The construction was well organized, everyone had their appointed duty. The students and the volunteer group from Texas all worked hard, and we did in five days what we had projected would take seven.

As I was mixing mortar for the bricklayers on Tuesday, I heard the crackle of burning foliage and looked behind the dorm to see a large column of smoke rising. Whoever had been assigned to burn trash had let the fire get away from them. Someone shouted to bring water and shovels. The fire was moving away from the dorm and toward our water tower that supplies the entire campus. It had already melted a hole in part of the two-inch main line, right next to an uncovered valve, and water was shooting out in a wasted geyser that was of no help to us, as the fire had already moved on to some thick grass and small trees. I thanked God we weren’t in California as we beat down the fire with our shovels. Ruan brought a hose, and we were able to extinguish the fire right before it reached the water tower.

After work in the evenings, we held a short series of meetings in the nearby village of Yata. One of the volunteers from the group is a young doctor from Mexico, and she preached from the book of Daniel. On Sabbath we had church in the campus chapel. There are several families that come from Yata. Every Sabbath afternoon we go there with the students and go door to door visiting families, singing hymns, and sharing the Word.

The missionary group is gone now, and classes have resumed. My teaching schedule is actually not too heavy, but I am also a work supervisor, pathfinder counselor (for our new club) and half-time boy’s dean. A good share of time also has to be devoted to activities that take a matter of minutes back stateside. For example, after my morning class yesterday, I carried in a couple 20-liter jugs of drinking water from our natural spring about half a kilometer behind the school. Washing laundry in the creek followed, and later I went to help cut lumber in the jungle. Remind me to tell you more about that later. I’ll just say, I thought of David Livingston and other missionary pioneers who hauled their stuff for thousands of kilometers over jungle trails, and I wondered how in the world they ever did it.

I worked with the voice choir for the first time yesterday. Many of them are having trouble matching a pitch, and so I worked with them one at a time at the keyboard, singing along with them until they could match my note. I saw a little progress, which was encouraging. It’s going to be a lot of work, but I think it will be fun. We also talked about proper breathing technique, and I had them practice inhaling and exhaling using their diaphragms.

On Sunday we suffered an unexpected and painful blow. We had to expel four students (two couples) for sneaking out of the dorm and meeting down by the creek. Apparently it wasn’t the first time they’ve done this. Worst of all, two of them were our only 4^th year students, leaders in the school who have been here since they were freshmen. (They were the only students left at the school who I knew from last time I was down here.) The whole process took most of Sunday. It has been very difficult for the school, but God is good, and I think everything will turn out to His honor and glory. Please pray for the students who had to leave, that they can learn from the experience and won’t turn their backs on everything they’ve learned.

Waiting...and more waiting

I’m still waiting in Santa Cruz. Patience and longsuffering are usually the first fruits to get plucked when one is a missionary. Last night a sur blew in, one of these storms that sweep up from the south, bringing wind, rain, and colder weather, and complicating life in general, including the movements of small aircraft. The plane that was supposed to take me to the school is stuck in Rurrenabaque to the northwest, waiting for the storm to pass, so it looks like the soonest I’ll be able to fly out will probably be Tuesday morning early. My other option is to take a bus to Trinidad and get a commercial flight from there, but I have no guarantee that they are flying right now either. So here I am waiting and asking God to grow me some more patience. I hope that the current slug-like operation of my computer is not supposed to be the answer to that prayer.*

On Friday I rode with Jeff Sutton, the aviation director, out to the property for the new TV station and sanitarium. It is a beautiful and sizable plot of pastureland just south of Santa Cruz toward La Guardia. They had just gotten the pump going on the well, using a diesel generator. The only structure they’ve started building so far is the guardhouse, but they are beginning to collect materials for the station facilities. I was able to see and visit with Luis Alfredo, Victor, Elizabeth, and Carina, some of my students from the last time I was here. They are now graduated and either working or studying here in Santa Cruz.

En sabado we went to church in Barrio Lindo, which means beautiful neighborhood, and the garden in front with its cypress and lilies and pristine shrubberies seemed to validate the name. As is typical, however, the compound walls are topped with razor wire and broken glass, which I hope is not symbolically significant.

Sometimes one can learn from the simplest things. On our way to church yesterday I noticed a number of people working in the street. Some washed the windshields of the taxis, some sold oranges, crackers, picolé, or newspapers, while others rode unicycles and juggled batons in front of stopped traffic at an intersection. They don’t wait around for some grand work, something that seems important. They take what they have, go out in the street, and make the most of it. Jeff told me they can actually make decent money that way.

In the afternoon we went to visit a grandma from the church named Fructuosa. She is dying of cancer, yet she was happy to have a house full of visitors. Her daughter was there, and she showed us a beautiful tablecloth her mother had just finished making. “When she is hurting she just sews faster,” she explained, going on to share that when the pain is the greatest is when she sings the loudest. Grandma shrugged and said simply, “the hymns are a great comfort.” And so we sang. I played their little electronic keyboard with no pedal that sounds like a kid’s toy in the aisle at Walmart, and she was thrilled.

In the back was a beautiful patio and fruit trees that she had planted, but she mentioned nothing of this to us. She was much more happy about Veronica, the young woman sitting by her side who she met in the park and brought to the Lord.

When we left, she asked if I would come back. “I hope so,” I said. “That’s a good answer” she replied.

This morning I helped Jeff and his wife Fawna and their two little girls move from their apartment next to the TV station here in town to a house outside of the city. It took two trips in the van, and Jeff and Fawna both commented on how annoyingly easy it is to accumulate stuff.

On my way to help them, about a block from their house, I was hailed by what looked like a taxi, and I thought, this is backwards. There was a driver and an old man in the back wearing glasses. “We are with the national police” the driver said, and leaned across to show me his ID. “Here, look at it” he seemed proud, though to me it seemed hecho en casa. “We just have some questions for you because there a lot of people carrying false passports and papers around here lately” he said. Yeah, and you’re one to talk I thought. “Do you have your passport?” he asked.

“No, I don’t carry it because it’s not safe. A lot of people get robbed,” I said, thinking of all the stories I’ve already heard from the Suttons and the other volunteers, most of whom had been accosted at least once during their stay here, one even as close to the station as the front gate.

“That’s okay,” he said “where are you staying? What hotel?”

“Ninguno” I said. “Me quedo con amigos no más.”

“Where?” he wanted to know. I made a vague motion with my hand. “Can you show us?”

“Mejor que no” I told him. “If there is a problem, give me a telephone number where I can call you.” I kept waiting for him to pull out an arma and tell me to get in the car, or at least to give them everything I had, which was only 14 bolivianos (not even $3.00) but he just smiled.

“No, that’s okay.” He said. “We’re just asking,” and he motioned for me to go.

That’s about all the adventure I’ve had so far. It’s so much more fun this time around to be able to communicate more with the people. I’ve also been able to visit with Victor, Luis Alfredo, Carina, and Elizabeth, four of my students from 2006 when I was here last. I asked the Lord to give me an opportunity to be a blessing here and not just be sitting around waiting, and so I’ve kept busy enough. Today I helped one of the brothers with some maintenance projects at another volunteer’s apartment. And the good news is that they just told me not to buy a bus ticket because I’ll have a flight out tomorrow!

*P.S. 8/3 My computer was so bad I couldn’t even finish this or send it yesterday. I couldn’t do anything. I would click on an application and have to wait five minutes for a response. I tried restarting the computer a few times, among other things, but nothing worked. I told Eliazer, one of the volunteer technicians here, that my computer was slower than a tortoise with its legs cut off, and he was kind enough to help me clean up my hard drive and my computer is doing MUCH better now.

Bound for Bolivia... Again!

As many of you already know, I have been asked to return as a volunteer to teach Bible literature, chime choir, write for the school website, and play the piano (yamaha keyboard) for the choir at the same school near Guayaramarin, in northeastern Bolivia, where I volunteered in 2005 and 2006 . Unfortunately, travel to Bolivia these days is not as easy as it was four years ago. I had to apply for and purchase a visa in order to enter the country, and to apply for a visa, I had to have a confirmed flight itinerary as well as signed letters from the school stating my purpose for travel. I purchased my flight after I got home from graduation, scheduling to leave today (the 14th) in order to get there in time for the start of the second semester on the 20th. After a few more days, I was finally able to get the signed letters from the school and send for my visa by the 29th of June. The Bolivian consulate assured me that my application would be processed within three days, so providing a few days for shipping, I hoped to have my passport back with the visa by July 10. No such luck. Maybe it would come on Sabbath? Nope. Monday. Nothing. I called the consulate and they confirmed that they had sent everything on Friday the 10th. "It should be there" they said.Today was the last chance for it to get here before I was scheduled to fly out. I went to the post office as soon as the mail was in. It wasn't there. "It's like you're already in Bolivia!" was the comment from the principal, Tara Swanepoel, when I told her the trouble I was having. So today has been hectic with everything up in the air ("except for you" as my friend John kindly pointed out :). The soonest I was able to rebook for a reasonable price was Tuesday the 28th. I am disappointed at the delay, but maybe there will still be some good that comes of all this, even if it is only me learning the expensive lesson to apply for visas much longer before my departure date! So I am home awhile longer, which is not a bad thing. I will have more time to try to work on improving the school website before I get to the land-of-almost-no-internet. (The school has recieved a donation toward obtaining internet service, but is still working on finding a feasible way to get it set up, 30 km out from the nearest internet connection.) If any of you know anything about building websites, I'd love to talk to you! (Click here to see the existing school website.) The delay also gives me more time to fund-raise as well as get set up with insurance. And who knows, there could be more to this story yet. I'll keep you posted. Blessings!

If you would like to support this mission endeavor, you can send tax-deductible donations to the Office of Student Missions, Walla Walla University, 204 S College Ave, College Place, WA 99324.

I'm home! It feels so weird. Everything is so...neat and clean and pretty...and rich. And busy. It's back to the rat race. I got home Tuesday the 9th at midnight. The next day I was out helping my dad dig footings for our front walk. We're putting in paving stones. Besides that I've managed to unpack, do my finances, clean out my room, tear my car apart and clean out the mice nests that were in my heating system, preach a couple sermons, go to the doctor, dentist, and optomitrist, and a hundred other little things.

Putting up a new hut to shelter our future carpenteria.

Little and cute (above) or big and ugly ( the snake, not Geraldo, below). The critters here come in every category imaginable. I'd love to bring that little water turtle home with me, but I doubt he would survive the trip. As for the boa there, survival was not an option, (actually we found him dead on the road) and his hide is currently curing in my back yard.

Another one of God's creatures.

So we've been studying the middle ages in sophomore class and so naturally we discussed castles. I told the kids how I used to make sand castles on the beach with my brother and they were intrigued. Then I remembered the pile of sand in our front yard that we're going to use to stucco the house and I thought "yeah buddy." So there's the final masterpiece. The sand wasn't the best, but we made it work. The students had a blast anyway. As did I, I must admit. So we pretty much just had a sandblastin' time. The girls actually really got into it and even made flags for it later on and named it capitol of the Carolingian empire, and it stands even to this day. Pretty impressive for a sand castle, especially since it was assaulted by the two dogs this morning as they went for their morning frolic.

This is our tech. center, otherwise known as Ruan and Tara's living room. Quality, let me tell you. As you can see, we have a phone now, thanks to an antenna we just put up. Is that wild or what? It's so weird to hear the phone ring again. Actually to be honest it can be quite an annoying sound. Especially when you have to run half way across campus to tell someone they have a phone call. But anyway... we're on the map now. We exist. We've already had half a dozen phone calls including one from Mexico, so we're definitely on the grid. We're back on the power grid too, thanks to John for conveniently remembering a 500 watt inverter that he had tucked away in his suitcase. (Our previous two inverters have been fried by overdraw.) It took two weeks of working by candle power for him to remember his possession. (For which we all had a good laugh.) So now we are all enlightened. I guess it just takes two weeks worth of candle light to add up to enlightenment.
Oh yeah, if you want to call some time, the country code is 591 and the number is 7-160-2548. The best time to call is probably between 8-9 pm which is 4-5 pm your time (5-6 after daylight savings time goes into effect for you, because they don't have daylight savings time here) or Sabbath afternoon. So how do you like that? Probably not too much when you find out how much it costs. I'm guessing it's not cheap.

So the first week of school is over. Wow is it ever hard to teach in a foreign language! But God is helping me out big time. He's so cool like that. Fortunately I only teach every other day, which is just about perfect becuase it takes me pretty much all day to prepare my lectures and plan homework and in-class activities. And then there's the grading. It wouldn't be so bad if I had a teacher's edition with answer keys. But no such luck. Me and the English-Spanish dictionary sit and wade through stacks of papers together hours at a time. I just finished grading the freshman quizzes by candlelight. It was pretty depressing. Almost all of them failed. I would have blamed it on myself except that the only student who has complained about having a hard time understanding me so far got 90% on her quiz -- the best of the class. Obviously she's at least trying to understand me! But really, if the kids had read and studied what I assigned they would have done better even if they couldn’t understand much of my in-class lecture. Isn’t that the way it goes?

If you can't describe it, draw it. Pictures can save a lot of talking.

Explaining Assyrian siegecraft to my freshmen class.

It's amazing to me how ignorant these kids are of basic world geography. A lot of them can't even name the seven continents of the world let alone locate them on a map. I kind of get the feeling that they haven't been able to look at maps very much. The juniors couldn't tell me what continent England is in, and the freshman didn't have a clue where to find Egypt. Europe, Asia, South America, and North America were some of the guesses I got as to the location of the latter. Another particularly creative response placed Egypt "in Mesopotamia in North America on the banks of the Nile." At least he got the river right. But my personal favorite showed up on three different papers almost word for word, so it looks like we'll be having a little meeting with the ad. council about academic integrity, or the lack thereof in this case. Sad stuff. Cheating just seems to be a natural and accepted thing to do here. Anyway, I hope we can teach these kids to be honest. And hopefully I can teach them a little geography while I’m at it. So the answer that gave the cheaters away was “Egypt is located in South America, a part of Africa.” Ouch. But my class is not the only place the kids are having trouble. The other teachers are also noticing a general lack of basic knowledge in mathematics, science, literature, and even reading comprehension. Most of the students don’t have any idea how to work with time either. One of the questions John asked on his first quiz was “how many seconds are in a day?” One student’s response was “22.” Another one said “15 minutes or something like that,” and several even went so far as to ask “aren’t seconds and minutes the same thing?” Wow. Unbelievable. These are highschool kids and they have no concept of time or how to work with it. The whole sad situation does seem to shed some light on the culture here however. It’s no wonder that few people are ever on time, events are often late, and exact schedules rarely seem to exist. The question that remains though is whether they don’t want to learn about time because it’s not important to them, or if it’s not important to them because they haven’t learned how to keep it? Are they habitually late because they don’t know how to keep time, or is it because they just don’t think it’s important? And if they don't think its important, why should it matter? What makes me think that I should impose my concept of time on them? I do still think they should know how to figure out how many seconds are in a day though. That's just simple math.

Dianna and Rosalia during their first day of school ever. They were so excited, it was precious.

school starts
Going over the schedule and the handbook
"The handshake" The famous highschool welcoming activity.

We're hoping that this tower, or one like it will eventually bring internet to our school. Wouldn't that be something?
At the corner marker of the school property on a Sabbath afternoon excursion.

That white string you see is a worm from the inside of a smashed cockroach.

Just another critter
Bat in the outhouse

Another breach in the dike

Trying to drill a new well

B-e-a-utiful. Yep, that's how you spell that.

Big news! Looks like I'll be teaching history and geography for the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors. Or primero, segundo, and tercero as they call them. I have no textbook yet, (I'm supposed to pick it up tomorrow) don't know the grading system or curriculum, and can barely speak, let alone read in Spanish. Wild huh? I'm excited though. What an opportunity! A lot of the students are non-adventist and I'm praying God will give me wisdom and skill to share His love with them. In other words, I've been praying for the gift of tongues! Just kidding. But I have been praying for help to learn Spanish. Maybe this teaching position is a partial answer to that prayer. It'll be a work out at any rate.

Enrique's house gets a roof
Cafeteria under construction

Had a little too much excitement the other night. Ruan and I were playing keep-the-frisbee-away from Busman (their dog) tonight after supper. I tossed one of my signature errant throws, the kind that curves away from the reciever as he tries to run it down, inevitably escaping his last desperate lunge by a fraction of a centimeter. (I do not throw this variety purposefully just for the record.) Anyhow, just at that last crucial second when player and disc try to connect, Ruan went down. It looked like a pretty hard fall, but nothing worse than the usual result of a last-ditch lay-out for the catch. But unlike usual, Ruan didn't bounce right back up. "Are you okay?" I called out as I hurried over. He didn't respond immediately and in that split second I knew something wasn't right. Earlier that evening I had stumbled in the same area where Ruan now lay sprawled, so I knew what was there.
"No, I'm not okay" he replied as he looked down. By this time I had reached his side and what I saw flipped one end of my stomach over the other, pulled it through the resulting loop, and cinched it down so hard I could hardly breathe. His left foot was impaled on a 3/8 inch shaft of re-rod like a hotdog on a roasting stick. The tip of the iron was pretruding at the back of his ankle and on the verge of breaking out right next to his achilles tendon.
"Fawna!" I hollared. "Come quick!" Ruan was soon surrounded by several concerned faces arguing about whether or not to extricate the offending rebar immediately or wait until we had something to use to slow the insuing gush of blood. By this time the initial shock had worn off and Ruan was in excruciating pain. Fawna arrived with a dressing and we extracted the rod as quickly and smoothely as possilbe. (I never would have thought that being derailed could be such a good thing. Didn't look any less painful though.) The next hour or so was crazy with a dozen or us running everywhere for a dozen different things. Hydrogen peroxide, charcoal, water, gauze...Ruan started to go into shock so I ran for a blanket. Praise God that Fawna wasn't gone! She's an RN and cleaned and stitched the wound. She was so calm and knew just what to do. Fortunately Ms. Susie had left some lydocane as well which was a HUGE blessing, as it brought some relief to poor Ruan, which in turn made the rest of us feel better too. As did the fact that the re-rod missed his ankle bone and achilles tendon by a mere fraction of an inch. God is good! So now we just have to keep administering charcoal and keep praying that the wound won't get infected.

Fawna stitching up Ruan's foot

Enrique drives the ogre through a downpour just the day before the steering column broke.
Cotton ball sunset
One mighty tree stands tall against the approaching storm. Is that a good object lesson or what?

Howdy folks

I'm back with another one. Be sure and let me know if you ever get tired of the incessant bombardment of newsletters and I'll take you off the mailing list. The trouble is, I just can't keep up with God! He keeps pouring out the blessings faster than I can chug! My cup is running over and all down the front of my shirt and I'm soaking wet! Pretty much saturated. And I just have to share the love. You know, that's really a great analogy for this place, because it takes a negative aspect of life here and gives it a positive connotation. I'm always wet here, whether its from the rain or the humidity or the creek or more often from my own persperation. I've almost forgotten what it feels like to stay dry. But now I can think of it as a good thing right? Like an innundation of God's blessings. While I'm on the subject of wetness, the weather over the last couple of weeks has been incredible! We're smack in the middle of rainy season. Guess what that means? That means WETNESS. It rains every day. Hard. Once in awhile it even rains all day long, which makes it kind of hard to get much work done, especially when cement is involved. So guess what God did? He shut off the water to our shower and cranked on the blessings. That's right. I'm pretty sure we're in a shower of blessings. The sun is shining, and an occasional rainbow pinstripes the sky just to remind us Who turned off the faucet. Of course every now and then the faucet drips. But we can work with that! Keeps our mud (cement mortar) from drying out! Enrique's house is up with the roof on now, and we have a good start on the cafeteria. We wouldn't have gotten nearly so much done if God hadn't held back the rain. David also got back from Santa Cruz safely with our Toyota Landcruiser. I tell you what, that made for a nice ride to town today! God just keeps blessing and looking out for us.

The mission troup from Laurelbrook and Heritage academies (Tenn) arrived here the 26th of Jan right in the middle of a moster rainstorm. It was a miracle they were even able to land since they flew with Amazonas, an airline that doesn't usually land here during such foul weather. The runway is just dirt and the small wheels on their planes easily get stuck in the slop. But they made it, and that saved us a three hour trip to Riberalta where we would have had to pick them up if they didn't land here. So we crammed them all in the back of the truck, all 28 of them, and headed for the school. There was so much flooding from the downpour that the road was totally washed out at one point. Or I should say it was washing out. Jeff just gunned it and we took a good bounce through the torrent. I think at least half of us in the back were airborn for a split second. But the jolt was well worth getting through without getting stuck! We got to the school around 6 pm. It was interesting to observe the various reaction as the kids checked out accomodations...thatched dwellings and clapboard latrines.

But the next day, Friday, was downright wild. I went to town to help make window and door frames for the duplex (staff housing). We actually ended up making the boards for the frames from derounded logs. Jeff, Enrique, Ruan and I were exausted after wrestling the massive hulks through the planer and the undersized tablesaw, which had to take each piece twice for a doublecut due to the thickness of our logs. It was a beast of a job. But the real excitement came on the trip back out to the school. We were hauling along at a decent clip when we lost steering and a bit a hard left into the jungle before Enrique could get us stopped. The ball joint on the steering column had come completely off. Besides that, the front of the truck was buried past the axle in the mud. But praise the Lord no one was hurt! God was surely looking out for us because we had just crossed the bridge where such an accident could easily have resulted in fatalities. Just beyond our crash site the bank drops away much more steeply and if we had gone off there we probably would have rolled. As it was it was a miracle that no one was hurt as we took quite a slam when we left the road. We attempted to back out, but the rig was hopelessly stuck, so we flagged down a passing truck and I caught a ride to the school driveway and then ran the remaining mile to get help. Armed with shovels, lights, a jack, and some 4x4 blocks we rushed to the rescue. It was already almost sundown. "What a way to start the Sabbath" I thought. "But we have an ox in the ditch that needs pulled out." (Leaving a truck full of supplies on the side of the road is not a smart thing to do, not to mention the people who needed to get home) After almost 2 hours of painstakingly raising the truck inches at a time we finally got it high enough to get it off its belly and up on the 4x4's. Then we gathered in a circle for prayer. "Lord, thank you for this beautiful night where we've been sitting here looking at the stars" Jeff's opening sentence made me grin since we'd actually been under the truck digging. But maybe it was for the benefit of the lady passengers who had been patiently waiting for us. "And now it's Your Sabbath and we have an ox that needs pulle dout of the ditch" Jeff continued, repeating my earlier thoughts. "We just pray for Your help and that we can get it out on the 1st try so we can get back. Thank You and praise You, amen."

Sure enough, with a little extra persuasion from 4 of us pushing on the front, (and who knows maybe even an angel nudging it with his pinkie) we got 'er back on the road on the 1st attempt. It took another hour to limp the 6 or 8 remaining kilometers to the school because the jimmy rigged steering column kept coming apart. Also the night was black as tar mixed with molasses (such sticky substances naturally slow you down) and the big truck has no lights right now and had to rely on the jeep to show the way. So we got into the school at about 10:15 famished and exhausted, but praising God for food and beds and keeping us alive to enjoy both.

And there's more... Part of the scaffolding fell the other day along with the three guys standing on it. Apparently they exceeded the weight capacity for the one nail holding up their board. But they had a nice flight down complete with safe landing, so we praise the Lord for that. As well as that neither Ruan or Tara were bitten by the poisonous snake that was lurking in their house behind their laundry bin. The locals say you have an hour or two to live if you get bitten by that particular variety and can't get treatment in time. It is so incredible to see how God looks out for us! And I know I haven't seen anything yet! But what is even more amazing to me is the faith and peace that God gives. He can bring someone to the point that even if they were bitten by the poisonous snake, they would believe that God could still save them and yet be at peace and trust God through whatever result. Complete and perfect trust in God is a beautiful thing. So is hearing God's voice He speaks to you. ms. Susie woke up in the middle of the night a couple weeks ago with the distinct impresision to check on Honako (one of the students from LBA). She did and found her blood sugar had dropped dangerously low. A few nights later, the same girl went into antiphilactic shock. Praise the Lord we had several epenephrine pins out here. One would have been insuffecient as Fawna accidentally stuck herself with the first one!

And then there have been all the little blessings. Way too many to tell about. But best of all are the spiritual blessings and seeing God at work changing attitudes and lives as we labor for Him. Seeing kids come in complaining about everything and then two weeks later not wanting to leave. In fact, two of them are planning to come back as student missionaries next year!

David Gates stopped by the school last week and shared some experiences with the group for evening worship. It is powerful to hear what God has done with that man's life. It was a real inspiration. His stories helped me remember that God is still the same God as the One portrayed in the stories of the Bible. He is able and willing to do exceedingly abundantly ABOVE ALL that we can ask or even think! God works in the superlative like that. 'Cause He is superlative. He astounds me. We can't begin to imagine what He can do with a completely surrendered life. If we would just throw ourselves and everything we posess into God's work, what miracles might we see? I think our most fantastic dreams and imaginings would be as simple nothings in comparison. What would keep us from surpassing even the giants from Heb chapter eleven, who through faith subdued entire kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, sis kabobbed that roaring lion the devil, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens, and even received their dead raised to life again. Others were tortured, not accepting deliverance at the expense of God’s honor. Others were mocked and scourged and imprisoned. They were stoned, sawn asunder, tempted, slain of the sword. They wandered about in animal skins, homeless, destitute, afflicted, and tormented…Yet God’s strength and grace and power were always sufficient. He has no limits. He dwells in the realm beyond infinity, beyond time, beyond space, beyond eternity, beyond all the forces of evil. And He offers to let us join Him there. Wild huh? I love it!
Makes me wonder what we're waiting for. Just give it all. You can't out-give God, I promise you that! I know, 'cause I'm still soakin' wet. :)

I know, I'm a redundant often repeating broken record. But I figured if I post my mass emails here, you can delete them and thus free up valuable inbox space. Also there are some people who access my blog who aren't on my mailing list. So here it is again.

"The greatest of them yet"
Hey everyone

I hope your holidays were happy and full of cheer and safe travel.

Before I get on to the news items, I think I should repeat the warning from the subject of the email. "The greatest of them yet..." refers to the size of this report. It is el ultimo grande, gigante, newsletter yet to arrive from this Bolivian jungle to clog your respective inboxes. So I hope you all have a few extra spare moments. Or you might consider reading it one section at a time. So on to the news...

I think the last time I reported was in November and John and I were on our way to help out with some evangelistic meetings in San Ignacio de Moxos. We were there for about a week and helped with visitation and special musics. John even made an appearance on local television to invite people to the meetings. Attendance wasn't huge, but God blessed. It isn't about numbers anyway right? There is rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents! If only one person came and accepted Jesus it would be worth all the effort. That's something I've been beginning to understand a little bit better through my work down here. God's love is SO incredibly amazing! I don't reflect on it enough.

Unfortunately John and I weren't able to stay in San Ignacio until the end of the series because our visas were about to expire and we had to stamp out of the country. So we headed for LaPaz and then the Peruvian boarder. Traveling down here is always an adventure. We made as far as Santa Cruz without incident, but the 16 hour bus ride from Santa Cruz to La Paz turned into a 23 hour ordeal. Seems as though some teachers in a little town about two or three hours from LaPaz decided they weren't being paid enough and that everyone traveling the main road needed to know about it. So what do you suppose is the best way to accomplish that? Put up a billboard maybe? "Underpaid teachers...donations accepted next exit." Not a chance. That would be rediculous! So how about a roadblock. That's right. Throw some rocks on the road and don't let anyone move them. "You shall not pass". I think the Bolivian version would be "no pase." But whatever...the point is that the command is emphatic and you durst not disobey unless you want to receive bodily harm. Running roadblocks is just not a good idea down here. Fortunately you can detour. Our first attempt to circumvent the blockage consisted of a little off road jaunt through some fields, but the locals, who were beginning to remind me of Edomites, discovered our plot and denied passage once again. So we joined the disgruntled caravan of rerouted traffic and headed into the wilderness. But the wilderness too set its will against us. After wandering on small winding roads for several hours, we passed through a village and came to a huge dry lake bed where the road disintegrated into a mere track. In the distance I could see the carcases of two buses and several trucks with their passengers milling about them like scavengers disturbed from their meal. The stalled vehicles were all tilted at various bizarre angles, their low sides swallowed by the sand. But the dismal panorama did not deter our bus driver. We forged onward, ever closer to the ghastly spectacle. We would not relent. We would pass or go down in the attempt. We went down. Everyone piled out, murmuring and complaining in at least 3 different languages. The left side our bus was sunk up to the axle. Someone produced a shovel from somewhere on board. No doubt they carry it specifically for such predicaments. Some of us took turns digging with it and various other implements (like our hands) while others brought rocks to put under the wheels. Half a dozen portly señoras directed operations. Each one seemed to possess her own great wisdom for how to remedy the situation. It was rather humorous really. So with the help of their excellent counsel we were soon ready for an attempt to free ourselves. Everyone put their shoulders to the bus and pushed as the driver gunned the engine. All was going well until he decided to turn the wheel. And just like that we were back in the muck up the axle. So we went back to our digging. Eventually someone showed up with a tractor from the village we had passed. It pulled us out and we were good to go. We carefully threaded our way through several more kilometers of lake bed before we reached terra firma. It was a miracle we didn't get stuck again. So we got to LaPaz around 4:30, just in time to catch our bus to Lima. Clearly the Good Lord was looking out for us! And He gave me a good story while He was at it.

We spent about a week and a half in Peru and then headed back to Bolivia. I don't know if any of you saw it on the news, but the Bolivian elections were taking place at that time (Dec 18). Evo Morales, (the candidate who won the elections) is reputed to be anti-US and on good terms with Castro and Chavez. This along with the widespread political division and the history of political unrest here in Bolivia made us think it wise to wait in Peru until after elections. But everything was peaceful, praise the Lord! We did get held up in LaPaz for one night because there were no bus departures. Bus drivers were striking (for reasons unrelated to the elections) so we caught a flight to Santa Cruz. We got the last two seats on the plane.

Originally I hadn´t planned to stay long in Santa Cruz, but the missionaries there asked me to stay for awhile and help and since no one was here at the school at that time anyway, I thought I might as well. There is a TV station based there in Santa Cruz and I did a little maintenance work for them. Mowed the grass, cleaned the storm drains, and did some painting. On Sabbath I helped out with a children's meeting at the women's prison. The following week I helped hand out food baskets to poor families and assisted with a VBS in one of the poor neighborhoods. We had about 200 kids and it could get crazy at times. There is so much need there. The children's ministry they have going there in Santa Cruz is huge with several branch Sabbath schools in different places. Susan Grady, the missionary who operates them is headed back to the states this month and they are looking for someone to take over for her. So if you know someone who might be interested, I could put them in touch with the Gradys.

I also took the opportunity to see a doctor while I was in Santa Cruz. I could have done that up here in Guayaramarin, but I felt better about it in a bigger city with better facilities. Anyway, turns out I had gihardia and that's why I've been sick the last couple months. It's a huge relief to be rid of that and the problems it was causing! I definitely plan to be EXTRA careful about what I eat and drink from now on. Nothing but bottled sealed and cooked for this boy.

So now I'm back at the school. We're scrambling to get ready for a mission group that is coming in a week and a half to help build the cafeteria. We're hoping to have the foundations done so they can go right to work on the structure. (Incidentally, we'll be needing to furnish the cafeteria with cookware and such and if any of you are interested in helping with that I can put you in touch with Jeff. He can tell you specifics and make sure we don't get duplicates).

And we're getting a new vehicle! This is another HUGE blessing because the jeep we had was very old and unreliable. David will be driving it up here over the next few days from Santa Cruz, Lord willing.

A lot of people have been coming to inquire about sending their kids to school here this March when the school year starts. It's a great opportunity to tell them what we're about. We plan to accept 30 students this year. Ten more than last year. This is the schools third year and every year they add a grade so next year we'll be a complete high school with 9th through 12th.

Well that's all for now. Thank you all for your prayers and support. It is huge. God is doing awesome things. I'm also praying for all of you that God will bless you and bring you ever closer to Him. It is only as we focus on Jesus that we can have true peace and joy and ultimate success. Many blessings to you all in this new year.

With you in His service

Kody Kostenko

So here are a few more pictures finally. They're not in order at all, hopefully I'll get that fixed at some point. For more pictures and more details visit the website of the man with the computer. Sir Hawkins has provided some fine pictures and news as usual. You can see them here.

Eric really into his mix of colored cement for the finish layer of the floor in Ruan and Tara's house.

One of the freshly poured footings for the staffing duplex where Enrique and his family will live.

Jeff and John chat while piloting the Mooney en route to Trinidad.

Elmer (a student from the school) and I in the back of the little Mooney en route to help out with the evangelistic series in San Ignacio.

Eric and I proudly display our Thanksgiving masterpiece -- lentil loaf topped with tomato sauce and pecans...except we ran out of pecans as you can see.

Riding in the jeep with Ruan and Tara on the way back to the school.

Horses grazing in one of the plazas in Trinidad.