Back in Lima with a number of interesting developments:

1. We signed up for seminary and saw our ¨mini-apartment.¨ It´s somewhat akin to a mini-dungeon. I´m glad there is a Starbucks nearby. We´ll be moving in Sunday night and staying for 4 weeks, coming home on the weekends. I´m equal parts excited and nervous.

Out of the 30 or so students for this summer session, the 4 from Puerto Supe will be a large and curious group I expect. First Tim and I, with a language handicap. The two others have very limited knowledge of the Bible, and one of them is pretty weak on reading and writing we think. My plan is to learn what we can and leave the rest.

2. We´ve had some interesting run-ins at the mission guest house. First we met Jim Elliot´s brother (does that make me 1/10 famous?) and then someone who is possibly going to go stay at our house for a vacation part of this month.

3. And we picked up my dad!! He´s here for one week and has plans to see our lives plus Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley.

Back to Puerto Supe this morning before beginning our month in Lima Sunday night. I´m already sad about leaving my doggies, although they will be in 7th heaven with our housekeeper.

The Feeling Good Handbook by David Burns (keep your judgments to yourself!).

My friend A "normally" comes over on Monday afternoons at 3. That means that once we decided to schedule it and it's happened about 8 times since last June. At first I assumed that the irregularity was because she wasn't interested. As it turns out, that isn't the case. There are always multiple explanations to most behaviors I suppose, and living in Peru, my first guess is often wrong.

If you're going to be sick, you should at least have a dog to snuggle up with you.

Today Dave (the SAM Peru field director) and his wife Marilyn came to spend the day with the Cubases and us. Tim and I have been strangely ill (mostly fevers) for the last 24 hours, and after a few naps on the Cubases' couch in the morning, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make it through a meeting. Nonetheless, for the 3 hours we needed to be up and running, our fevers dropped and we felt, if not strong, at least lucid. If you ask me, it was a small gift of grace from God.

One of the major outcomes of the meeting for our upcoming month is that we've decided to apply to go to an intensive seminary "semester." We're hoping to take two guys from here (promising leaders, both keenly interested in the opportunity) to the Seminario Evangelico de Lima Feb 2-26. Provided we all get in fine, we'll be living at the seminary in Lima, taking classes from 8-1 Monday-Friday, and coming home on the weekends to run our discipleship course and lead worship at church. This year's courses are Gospels, Systematic Theology, and Christian Education.

I'm excited about the chance to facilitate the experience for these two guys from our congregation. I anticipate that it will be somewhat over their heads, but I know they will still get a lot from it. Even living at the seminary among other pastors and leaders and lovers of God is bound to be a transformational experience. I can't think of a much better way to invest in the long-term future of this ministry in Puerto Supe than to encourage these guys as God raises them up as leaders in the church.

On the spur of the moment, my dad decided he is going to come visit next Friday for a week! We're always excited about company, and particularly this company since I haven't seen my dad in a year and a half. After that, our "blind date" friends JJ and Amber are coming for the weekend. We're psyched.

Last night at our discipleship course (New Life in Christ) I looked around the room and felt a deep sense of purposefulness in my work. Of the 13 in attendance, 7 were not involved in this stuff when we arrived last April. 7 people drawing closer to God. That's good news. I'm so grateful to be here watching it happen.

We often want to be called of God, then ushered painlessly into a position of service and honor, miraculously possessing the character our callings require. God doesn't work that way. Our appointments are not about glamour. They're about glory. God's glory.

After a two month long ear infection, Taza is back to her playful self again. It's been fun to watch the dogs chasing each other, playing tug of war, and play-biting each other's faces again. I'm always amazed that somehow Ellie (at 110 lbs) knows how to play gently enough to keep Taza (13 lbs) coming back for more.

15 months we've been in Peru and I just had a new breakthrough in cultural understanding. B came by an hour ago while I was dilligently working on something, squirreled away in my own little world by my headphones. My housekeeper answered the door and let me know I was wanted. I asked her to convey that I was busy at the moment. 

We had a 24-hr visit from Christian, Amy, Gabe, Emma, Beth, Max, and Gavin Listro (yes, that's 7) this weekend. What a gift! We met the Listros at SAM orientation in NC a year and a half ago. They just arrived in Lima and will be heading to language school in Arequipa before working with church planting in Pucallpa, Peru. 

Tonight we resumed our New Life in Christ course after a 4-week break for Christmas and all its surrounding hubub. I was very pleased with the turnout and the participation, particularly the 6 "new" folks (coming from Alpha). We made a few adjustments (appointing group leaders, for one) that seemed to improve the group dynamics. 

Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. Philippians 4:6-7

Grace just mentioned that there's an agricultural strike planned Thurs-Sat. No trucks will be coming into the market with produce, chicken, or meat. My first thought was that I'm really glad I did a week's worth of grocery shopping (planned to menus) this morning. Then I realized what a bizarre and wonderful free-grace act of God that was.

It's raining in Puerto Supe. Not a hard, driving rain, but definitely more than a mist. Enough to leave a few puddles on the street. I hear the water splashing under cars as they drive by. It's beautiful.

I just finished reading What's So Amazing About Grace? (Philip Yancey, 1997) and am left with two distinct convictions. First, I have a long way to go when it comes to giving out grace. Second, there are few things that matter more.

The ocean is cluttered with children these days.

As I think about the difference between childhood here and my own childhood, I know these kids have it hard in a lot of ways. Some of them sleep on the floor. Their main meal might be rice and a fried egg. There are no soccer leagues, dance lessons, boy scouts.

But can you imagine getting to spend every day all summer playing on the beach with your friends? These kids are rich.

NOTE: You really need to read the previous post before continuing. This is a sequel.

I thought the party was a big flop. As it turned out, so was my cancelling of the party. I managed to convince the first lady who arrived to leave (by telling her she could go home). The rest were not so easily persuaded.

This is the difference between speaking Spanish and speaking Peruvian. My words were clear: the party is cancelled. My message was not so clear apparently. 5 people came in anyway and didn't get up for another hour and a half. Two of those people actually found out beforehand that I had cancelled the party. They came anyway.

To top it off, one man (whom I definitely hadn't invited) marched into the ladies' birthday get-together. What do I do with that?

I was really not in any state to host guests and didn't succeed in transitioning there. It was pure agony. I was on the verge of tears the whole time, almost audibly begging God to make them go away. Waves of heat and dizziness had me incapacitated. They didn't seem to notice me and continued on chatting about Peruvian cuisine (everyone's favorite topic).

Then the clencher. The guy picked up the candles on my coffee table and started carving designs in them with his fingernails. Now I've never been great at confrontation, and when you add surprise in there, I'm really out of my element. It was culture shock at its best (or worst). I was filled up with this burning rage that I was totally unable to express. Speechless, I just looked away until he proudly asked me what I thought of his artwork. WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU JUST CARVED DESIGNS INTO MY CANDLES!!! "It's a bird!" I said.

By the time they finally left, I was an emotional train wreck. I threw the closest thing I've know to an adult temper tantrum. I think it escalated my fury and anguish that I knew my neighbors and anyone walking by could hear the whole thing. I was mad at my guests for being them and me for being me, for not knowing how to deal with the situation and for not having the courage to do the things I did know I should have done, like standing up for myself.

As it turned out, I've had a lot of time to think since last night. There was another ear-splitting party down the street that kept Tim and me both awake the majority of the dark hours. Despite all my thinking, I've only come to 2 conclusions: 1. I'm a mess. 2. I can't un-mess myself.

If you're a pray-er, pray for me.

Today is my housekeeper's birthday. I wanted to have a small surprise get-together last night. "Wanted" is a curious word, really, because while I felt like it would be a good idea and a very well-received one, I'd been dreading it since the moment the idea came into my mind. I secretly hoped I would stay sick and not be able to do it. No luck.

Yesterday morning I went around town to invite people (since many/most don't have phones or email). As I talked it up, I realized how different my idea of the night was from theirs. They seemed to think that the only way to do a birthday gathering was to have a meal and stay for 3 hours.

Darn. I was thinking cake for one hour. Small-talk and parties in general have always been my down point. What am I going to say to a roomful of 40+yr-old Peruvian women for 3 hours?

As it turned out, the cake didn't rise. Now what? This party is already so far out of my comfort zone and probably theirs that to have it revolve around a bottle of soda seemed just too much to ask. I was on the verge of tears about something else already anyway.

So I canceled it. This was not all that easy since again it involved a town tour. As it turned out, I was only able to find one of the 9 women I had invited. I had 8 women to turn away from my house in the next hour. Oh dear.

Why did I plan this in the first place? I was trying to make myself do what I thought was the right thing, even though I didn't like it. There's some definite value in that pursuit. Where is the line between pushing yourself and pushing yourself too far?

PS- I wrote this post last night but was interrupted by the door bell. For the sake of the "whole story" I'm going to post it anyway and finish the story in another post.

Someone gave me this figurine today as a special gift. Too bad I don't have a mantle to put it on.

Home again. "Home" as a concept is really throwing me for a loop these days, but what I can say for sure is that I was happy to see Ellie when I came through the door. A few other little happinesses came along, too-- my friend's whole family sitting on the sidewalk outside their house, talking to the owner of the corner store about his new shelves, watching the kids play hopscotch under the streetlights.

Some days I'm mad about all the noise from the street and the fact that people are always coming by our house. Tonight I'm charmed by the friendliness and simplicity of small town life, the community created when outside is about the same as in.

We came to Lima for another vet visit and to send off the short-term team but ended up extending our visit when I got some bizarre fever that has left me moaning in bed for a few days. By now I´m feeling much better and think I´m ready for the 4-hr return bus ride tomorrow morning. I´ll be happy to get back to Puerto Supe and move my naptime from the bed to the beach.

Maybe it´s the fever and maybe not, but my emotional filter seems to have disappeared this week. I´ve had a couple of teary-sad breakdowns, a handful of teary-moved moments (think Hallmark commercials), and one near fist-fight with a dressing room attendant tonight when I ventured out of the house for the first time. The last was by far the most exciting and left Tim and me considering with delight what he would have done had I actually hit the woman and not just rolled my eyes and left in a huff.

PS- It seems that Taza´s ear infections are food-allergy related. We´re going to experiment with some different diets, but I´m at least glad that it´s her and not Ellie. I can´t imagine how we´d get that 100 lb slobbering oaf to Lima and back.

Last night two from the short-term team joined Tim in leading music at church. I think it was pretty exciting for him to play with someone other than me! We're sorely missing all our music buddies-- Frank, Emily, Brian, Alex and Molly, Marty, Alex W, Jenna, Maggie, Corey.... Music is more fun together.

The short-term team visiting this week is off to Lima tomorrow afternoon/evening. As they prepare to head back into "the real world," I've been hearing snipets of conversations about what they left behind and all they hope to return to. One girl said that although it might sound silly, she misses her family. In the car tonight, they talked about a longing to be back at their church, singing songs they know in their own language and their own style.

My heart is heavy. I know what it means to miss my family, my language, and my church. Longing has become a familiar feeling. I think the hardest of it is the sense of hopelessness pulling on my spirit, the realization that "home" is still a very long way off.

Even as I write, I'm hearing all the counter-arguments in my head. I'm too tired for them today, too tired to be insincere or talk my way out of these tears. Tonight I think I just need to let these emotions of longing and loneliness wash over me and let God find real me where I really am.

Tim and his friends made 4 kites today in preparation for the kite-flying contest the short-term team is doing tomorrow.

Summer came out of nowhere last week. All of the sudden the days are bright and sunny, and the beaches are busy busy busy. It's made for an interesting change in schedule for us, since the most logical way to connect with people right now is to spend every afternoon on a towel in the sunshine. This is particularly true this week while we have a team of people from Chicago reaching out to kids on the beach with sports.

My sense from God is that right now, my job really isn't big plans and schemes; it's spending time visiting people and listening to them. This is seriously not my specialty (I'm all about the scheming!), and I'm grateful for the beach and the way it makes that job easier. I just keep telling myself to stop being so darn serious and relax, but don't you think it's odd that my job is to lather myself with sunscreen, lie down on my towel, and spend the afternoon talking to friends about mostly nothing?

There's something so beautiful at the same time about this ministry of presence and listening. Without understanding the connection exactly, it brings to my remembrance a favorite psalm:"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46:10 Yes, I will be still, lying there on the beach, and trust God to use my offering no matter how strange it may seem to me.

This morning I picked up The Message, Eugene Peterson's modern English paraphrase of the Bible, and opened to Genesis 1. There's something so refreshing about new beginnings. Tim and I sat down with coffee and read together Genesis 1-2 and Psalm 1 (day 1 from my Bible-in-a-year plan). It was a sweet morning, and one I hope we can repeat often this year.

What will this year hold for me? The question makes me laugh. Oh, one can always make plans, but it's the Lord who holds my life in His hands.

"I know, O Lord, that a man's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps." Jeremiah 10:23