Cesar called last night to warn us that our landlord and ladies (3 siblings) were on their way over. This was mostly a surprise because we had never spoken to them, despite having a verbal contract on this house (through Cesar) for a year and a half now! It was one of those moments where I'm very grateful that I have a housekeeper come daily to clean.

The visit was entirely pleasant and so very Peruvian-- friendly and 100% relational. There was never any mention of the fact that we have any kind of business deal. They came to see the house they grew up in (and I think hadn't seen for decades). When we told them that we were moving in the near future, as opposed to the original plan for staying one more year, they seemed unphased. There was no indication that this had any bearing on their lives whatsoever.

One of my favorite parts of the evening was how the living-room conversation turned, by their initiative, to spiritual matters. The brother identified himself as an "evangelical" and the sisters as Catholics. I appreciate the sincerity and lack of ambiguity about all of this that I find in Peru. There was no awkwardness in our conversation.

Later when we had moved on to other topics, one of the sisters drew us back to religion. "There are lots of different religions," she said, "but surely only one of them is right. One of them leads to God. I wonder which one it is." Her comment caught me off guard, in part because her presupposition that only one is right is so entirely not American. It seemed inappropriate to delve too deep at the time, but I shared a little about what we believe and gave them all the Alpha booklets "Why Jesus?" that have been helpful for many people in Puerto Supe.

More random and delightful moments that still strike me as odd no matter how frequently they seem to occur. Perhaps that's what cross-cultural ministry is all about.

Why do some of my friends live in houses with dirt floors or straw roofs or no electricity? Why don't they have things like sinks or showers or even toilets? People are sick and die because the medical care is inadequate. Money and health are the central preoccupations of their lives. They don't have much of either. 

We're moving to the jungle.

The Cubases, our bosses and only teammates in Puerto Supe, are going to the US for an extended (6 months?) medical leave. At this point, South America Mission is unable to provide us with the support we need to be successful in our life and work here. We have mutually agreed on a reassignment to Pucallpa, a sizeable city on the edge of the jungle where all the other SAM missionaries in Peru live.

Tim's work in Pucallpa will be primarily split between taking initial steps to establish a university ministry with a local church and providing operational support for the South America Mission office in the US (website stuff, for example). I will be involved with this new university ministry and perhaps also invest in the SAM missionary kid school, other local teaching opportunities, and/or the new Crisis Pregnancy Center.

Our moving date is uncertain, but we will probably stay in Puerto Supe another month or two to help the church prepare for a season without outside (missionary) leadership. We will then complete our two-year term in Pucallpa and anticipate returning to the United States next April.

As you can no doubt imagine, this decision has involved a lot of prayer, conversation, anxiety, and faith. While the transition has been difficult (and probably will continue to be), we feel happy and hopeful about our next steps. Please keep us, the Cubases, our church in Puerto Supe, and our future in ministry in Pucallpa in your prayers. Stay posted for more details!

I just landed on a series of photos of people's refrigerators, accompanied with short captions to describe each person. Since I'm obsessed with food, I find this completely fascinating. What does my refrigerator (bottom right) photo say about me? For one, it says my kitchen could really use some updating!

Giving money is way more complicated now than it ever was before (in Charlotte) for a number of reasons-- our position/job and cultural differences in particular. Two episodes today leave me remembering that we're in a whole new place here.

This morning our housekeeper came in and right away sat down and asked to talk to us about something. For the first time ever (she's been working for us for 1 year), she asked for a 1-day advance on her weekly pay, plus a portion from the following week. She needs to pay today for her daughter's secretary school, which fortunately only comes up every semester. No problem.

The distinctive part was the way she asked-- both in a whiny begging voice and ending with "Don't be baaaaaad." Both of those made me want to gag or say "no way" or otherwise respond negatively. They definitely didn't inspire compassion, but I had to swallow my frustrations and remember the cultural training mantra, "It's not right or wrong; it's just different." I hear the whiny begging voice all the time as well as this "Don't be bad" plea. They drive me crazy and seem totally inappropriate, but I'm not in a position to be judge over others' customs.

Second strange event. This afternoon someone I don't know came to the door. That always means they're about to ask for money. If I understood her mumbling correctly, the woman told me a story about how she was asking for "collaboration" in paying for a tricycle that her son had borrowed and then broken. She showed me a very official document about the whole ordeal. I think maybe the "offended party" had taken her complaint to the local judge or something. Maybe. Just a theory.

I turned her down. Paying back a tricycle? How can I tell my neighbor I can't give her money for lunch (although I'd be glad to share from my pantry) and then turn around and help someone else with a broken tricycle? Do these people ask my neighbors for tricycle help or am I the gringo target?

The women who attended the Every Generation Ministries conference last weekend came back super enthused. Here are my two favorite stories from the day.

M told me that during the presentations, people in the audience would just start shouting "Amen!" at random moments. She confessed to me both that this was completely new to her and that she didn't really understand why they were doing it. Nonetheless... "I liked it," she said, "so I started shouting it, too." Love it.

There are a handful of Spanish translations of the Bible, but the King James equivalent, the Reina Valera, is by far the most widely used. My experience in seminary, for example, was that everyone had heard of other versions but probably 90% of people used the Reina Valera. When M was in a group at the conference, someone asked her what version of the Bible she had. She said she had the "Blanca Varela" (a famous Peruvian poetess). Imagine calling the King James version the "James Joyce" version by accident or something. After a few confused looks, someone figured out the confusion and corrected her.

The best part of both of the stories was the joy with which she told them. M was obviously not embarrassed by her fresh faith and limited knowledge or experience. She was happy to be with other believers, learning from them and enjoying their company. Her eyes were on them and not on herself.

I just wrote about the sermons we're listening to on the Song of Solomon (The Peasant Princess). Naturally, these talks on sex come with a computer game where you hit pop-up animals. "Oh no! There're foxes in the garden!" she says.

Update: Due to the obnoxious music, we removed the embedded game for the posting but you can still find it here: www.peasantprincess.com

I just got reprimanded by my mother for having a recently boring blog. It's true. Part of my problem is that my life is a little boring these days, another part is that I'm not ready to talk about some of the more interesting things unfolding, and the rest is due to writers block I think.

Fall hit us hard last week and Taza is now obsessed with blankets. As I enter the room with one, she lights up. She hunts them, monopolizes them, and moves to find them when I take them away from her. It's truly fascinating (to me... probably not to you).

I'm back doing homework with the my neighborhood ladies. Every day I hear more bizarre stories. Yesterday we had a discussion about the possible theological problems with cremation (I don't think there are any). Over the weekend, my wheelchair-bound illiterate friend talked about how she tries to use all the resources available to her to learn about God's ways even though she can't read the Bible. I was struck by how much I take for granted-- the ability to read and two functional legs, for sure.

Ellie and my housekeeper's daughter got hit by cars in unrelated incidents in the last couple of weeks. Both emerged more or less unscathed. My housekeeper was more shaken up by her family's event, but I must say, I was talking about my poor Ellie for days. Good thing she's such a tank.

The heart of our church's teaching recently has been on how to read and/or study the Bible. I'm teaching a very simple method for studying a passage from the Bible in our weekly women's Bible study. We are basically answering the following questions:

• What stuck out to you in the passage?
• What are the key words in the passage and what do they mean?
• What is the main idea of the passage?
• How can you apply something you learned here to your life?

Our friends John and Heather Chapman are missionaries in Lima, establishing a branch of Every Generation Ministries in Peru. Yesterday they put on a conference for 95 people interested in teaching children about God and His message of love for them. Two women from our church in Puerto Supe took the 4 AM bus to attend the event!

We don't currently have a children's ministry here and aren't sure what the future holds, but it was exciting to see these women energized to explore the possibility. Whether this pans out or not, I'm confident that it was a great experience for them to attend a Christian conference, learn more about God and His ways, and be exposed to other people who love God and want to serve Him.

You can read more about the conference on the Chapman's blog .

Last night in our Discipleship course we completed a 3 week section on discovering your spiritual gifts, passions and abilities.  Overall I think it was exciting for them and they enjoyed the time.

At the end I asked if anyone learned something or felt called to do something.  Surprisingly one man (who had stated the week before that recitation was one of his gifts) recited an entire poem from memory. I was really excited to see him catch the vision of sharing what you enjoy. In thinking of he could apply his interest to the church, I asked him if he could read Psalm 1 (which we recently studied) as a poem in church on Sunday.

Below is the poem he recited.  I was going to translate but it's pretty long and it would have taken a long time to put it in verse as well.  So if you really want to know what it says...call me.

Ya Era Muy Viejecita (Already she was very old)
by José Angel Buesa

Ya era muy viejecita... Y un año y otro año
se fue quedando sola con su tiempo sin fin.
Sola con su sonrisa de que nada hace daño,
sola como una hermana mayor en su jardín.

Se fue quedando sola con los brazos abiertos,
que es como crucifican los hijos que se van,
con su suave manera de cruzar los cubiertos,
y aquel olor a limpio de sus batas de holán.

Déjenme recordarla con su vals en el piano,
como yéndose un poco con lo que se le fue;
y con qué pesadumbre se mira la mano
cuando le tintineaba su taza de café.

Se fue quedando sola, sola... sola en su mesa,
en su casita blanca y en su lento sillón;
y si alguien no conoce que soledad es esa,
no sabe cuánta muerte cabe en un corazón.

Y diré que en la tarde de aquel viernes con rosas,
en aquel "hasta pronto" que fue un adiós final,
aprendí que unas manos pueden ser mariposas,
dos mariposas tristes volando en su portal.

Sé que murió de noche. No quiero saber cuándo.
Nadie estaba con ella, nadie, cuando murió:
Ni su hijo Guillermo, ni su hijo Fernando,
ni el otro, el vagabundo sin patria, que soy yo.

Here's their summary of the show:

I find the key is to think of a day as units of time, each unit consisting of no more than thirty minutes. Full hours can be a little bit intimidating and most activities take about half an hour. Taking a bath: one unit, watching countdown: one unit, web-based research: two units, exercising: three units, having my hair carefully disheveled: four units. It's amazing how the day fills up, and I often wonder, to be absolutely honest, if I'd ever have time for a job; how do people cram them in?

• Adding friends on Facebook: 1 unit
  
• Making bagels: 8 units (over 2 days)
  
• Listening to back episodes of This American Life: 2 units (each)
• Going to the post office: 1 unit
  
• Cutting Taza’s hair: 4 units
• Planning for Nueva Vida en Cristo: 3 units
  
• Sweeping: 1 unit
  
• Listening to my housekeeper talk about her (11) dogs: 2 units
• Knitting a hat for Heather: 6 units
  
• Knitting and unknitting the same hat until I get the size right: 24 units

Over lunch today Tim and I started talking about why our moms are so great and neat things they did for us growing up. Most of the reasons I think my mom is amazing have to do with the way our relationship has developed over the last 5 or 6 years, but as I look back, I can see traces of what we have now that appeared a long time ago.

When I was in 5th or 6th grade (I think), my dad still read to my brother and me every night, but my mom would come to tuck me in too. I never wanted her to leave. Somehow I convinced her to sit with me for a while, scratching my back and telling me about her day. I don't remember anything she said being particularly fascinating, but I remember feeling so lucky to get those moments with her alone. I know she must have been tired after a day of teaching kindergarten, and I doubt she wanted to recount the details to her preteen. I'm glad she made the sacrifice.

Years later when I was a senior in high school and battling through my first round of a persistent depression, I started asking my mom late(ish) at night on school nights if we could go out to Starbucks. I think at first I just wanted a free raspberry cappuccino. I could have driven there alone, after all. Why did she fall for my trick? I don't know, but I'm glad she did. Those are some of my strongest memories of that season-- sitting with my mom drinking coffee late on a school night. It was a new feeling having my mom be my friend. She gave me her undivided attention for half an hour, and I wouldn't have traded it for the world.

Big bingo festivities in the street in front of our house this afternooon! Lots of noise, bad speakers. Hope the moms are enjoying themselves. My favorite part are the candy apples.

The deep significance of Mother's Day in Puerto Supe is a complete mystery to me (although I'm all about my mom... more on that tomorrow!). The women of our church have been planning for it for at least a month. For the third year in a row, we celebrated the occasion with a Ladies' Night Out to a rotisserie chicken restaurant in Barranca. It cost each woman a little over $3, which is a huge deal. Obviously this night out is a major priority.

I could go on with cross-cultural commentary, but instead, let me just say that I had a lovely night with these women that have come to be a big part of my life. They are sweet, funny, and so endearing. Their excitement last night was contagious. I'm glad they've let me into their world.

1. Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies
   
2. Rice Krispy Treats 
3. Secret Kiss Cookies
   
4. Jam Thumbprints 
5. Creamy Lemon Squares 
6. Mexican Wedding Cake Cookies 
7. Mint Chocolate Chip Chocolate Cookies 
8. Coconut Macaroons 
9. Savannah Cheesecake Cookies 
10. Five Layer Bars 

A post for Martha (my godmother, not Stewart) if I ever saw one! To deal with some recent anxiety, I've been knitting a lot. Knitting watching movies, during meetings, praying, sitting, talking. It helps get some of my energy out in a constructive way and leave me more focused.

1. A fun slouchy hat made of bamboo yarn. Super soft and cozy.
2. A sweater for Taza-- not that I actually think she needs it. Just keeping my hands busy.
3. A stockinette stitch shawl made from "baby alpaca" yarn I bought in the tourist market in Lima our first week in Peru. Finally finished! I definitely think I got scammed on the yarn though.
4. Wool Mary-Jane slippers . My finished project leaves major room for improvement, although they're super cozy. Maybe I'll do a second pair.

Thanks to all my Charlotte friends who have sent the yarn!

It's amazing how accustomed you can become to living without running water.

The city is in the process of cleaning out the water tanks. Due to the enormous amount of chlorine they put in the water, they have to clean the tanks ever now and then or the water becomes milky.  I'm in complete support of this idea, however we have no idea when the water will come back on.  People are telling us it could be a week, but no one really knows what's going to happen.

Fortunately we have a few jugs of water set aside for flushing the toilet but that's about it.  Needless to say, there will be very limited cooking this week.  The really strange part to me is that no one here seems the least bit annoyed that there's not going to be water for a week.

This morning while we were eating breakfast, one of the ladies from our discipleship course came by to ask for clarification about the day's homework. It was a small joy for a number of reasons.

I'm so glad she feels the freedom to come to my house, for one. Sometimes people tell me they thought about coming by but thought I might be busy (which I'm generally not).

Second, I'm excited that she's doing the homework, and doing it with enough thought to have questions. Instead of skipping the question or putting the best answer she could think of, she really wanted to understand.

And lastly I was glad for the opportunity to serve. She stayed for 20 minutes, recounting strange stories and what not. Tim and I mostly contributed to the conversation with head nods. It occurred to me that she probably doesn't get many chances to be heard and that our listening was an offering we could give to her and to God.

A good start to the week.

Happy Peruvian Labor Day! It's especially noisy this afternoon, I think because we have kids out of school to add to the sounds of the car alarms, radios blasting all over town, construction, etc. Today it feels okay. Some days are better than others I guess.

Lots of interesting and significant things are going on around here, but I unfortunately can't report on any of them quite yet (mostly because of still unsettled pieces of the puzzle). You may have noticed that I've been avoiding the blog. I keep hoping something interesting but insignificant will happen to write about, but no luck!

As for this puzzle-in-progress, I'd really appreciate your prayers while we work to make some important decisions these days (and I promise to divulge more when the time is right).