Saturday Post -- 30/12/17

First things first: the Christmas Day barbecue was a roaring success! After the traditional midnight-on-Christmas-Eve celebrations, over 30 friends staggered out of their beds and joined us in mid-afternoon for a couple of hours of beef and banter. If it were up to me alone, we'd make it an annual fixture. Amanda's not quite made her mind up on that one; please pray for a prompt decision on that, as the next one is a mere 51 weeks away.

By about 5:30pm, our last guests had left, the last plastic plates had been dumped, and the barbecue had been reduced to mere embers. Time, then, to continue the Christmas traditions by putting our feet up and enjoy a well-earned evening's rest. 

Well, not quite. In fact, it was time to go to church.

You'll remember that on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, we had been due to have our big annual Christmas celebration service, an event for which around 100 different children and young people had put in weeks of preparation in terms of dance, singing and drama. Furthermore, an array of lights, tin foil and tinsel was on display; the hall had been well and truly decked. The stage, as it were, was set.

Until this happened.

From around noon on Sunday, well into the night, the heavens rained themselves dry. And Trinidad's geography means that it doesn't take the most prolonged of storms to turn the streets into rivers. Meaning that by as early as 2pm, with the church by now essentially reduced to an island, the WhatApp group was abuzz with concern for the service. 

And so, we took two steps we've never taken before as a leadership. On the one hand, we called off the service. This would never have happened in the case of a usual Sunday morning, where we always manage to get a faithful core, come rain or shine. The difference here was that a whole host of children and parents with little church contact outside of the holiday Bible club ministry were due to attend. It takes the merest spit of rain to send people here running for their houses; they were hardly likely to make it out in these conditions.

This was taken at the Foundation on the morning of Christmas Day, i.e.,
some hours after the waters had begun to recede!

On the other hand, we postponed the service. Recognising the uniqueness of this service -- not only in terms of its overtly evangelistic focus, but also the huge time and effort that had gone into its preparation -- we felt we owed it to those involved to reschedule it and hope for better weather. And so we did, for 6pm on Christmas Day; which, to be fair, was harder on us than for most people, given that Christmas is effectively over by around 6am on the 25th here. 

Still, after all the effort of the barbecue, we weren't exactly pining for two hours sat on our backsides in an overcrowded room. An Evening with John McClane this most certainly was not. 

And yet, you know what? We wouldn't necessarily keep it as a permanent Christmas Day fixture. But while the Christmas Eve service usually serves as a nice little official launch to the annual celebrations, this was an equally special way to bring the curtain down. I think that for many believers,  if we're honest, the 'spiritual' side of Christmas is pretty much over and done with by the time Great Aunt Agatha arrives, the Brussels sprouts are served and the crackers are, er, cracked. This way, before setting it aside for another year, we had the chance to come back to the very essence of it. 

I also felt helped as I gave a short talk at the conclusion on Jesus being the Light of the world, to which people seemed very attentive; not bad, given the general exhaustion.

This weekend, like many other churches around the world, we'll have an event for New Year's Eve on Sunday night. Our thoughts then turn to Santa Cruz, where we're going for a few days on Tuesday morning for a short break with Amanda's mother, Selene. We will likely be travelling home next Saturday, meaning the first post of 2018 will likely have to wait a week.

Thanks to all of you for your prayerful support over these past 12 months. It was a joy to see so many of you earlier this year, and your prayers have certainly carried us as we have settled in here again since June, a transition that has not always been without its struggles. We look forward to sharing our lives and ministry with you again in 2018.

Sam: meet train sets.

Prayer

• Pray for safe travels and a relaxing time in Santa Cruz this coming week.

Praise

• For a surprisingly wonderful, blessed experience on Christmas Day.
• For God's great faithfulness to us as a family in 2017. We have so much to be thankful for.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 23/12/17

Coca-Cola don't just own Christmas where you live.

This morning, after a couple of weeks of jazz carols and Handel's Messiah, I got in the car, finally succumbed to my true self and dusted down the downright tacky stuff (The Pogues excepted, of course). I wobbled my way along a flooded, potholed-street, children slipping on their backsides in the mud, while a horse rummaged through the binbags by the side of the road. And all the while, Bing Crosby's telling me 'It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas'.

This, of course, is the toughest time of year to be away from home, the result often being that every year, in an attempt to keep homesickness at bay, we have gone to great lengths -- perhaps greater lengths than we would do in the UK or Canada -- to make things as 'Christmassy' as possible. This was relatively simple a few years back, when there was a sufficiently large contingent of North American and European missionaries here to justify splashing out on a turkey and tolerating Cliff Richard for a day. In recent years, however, it's just been the three of us, meaning a whole day is spent in tropical temperatures, preparing a roast dinner that will be uncomfortable to eat, gone in 15 minutes and will not even feature aforementioned bird.

Well, 2017 may well go down in the annals of history as the year in which we hoisted high the white (Christmas) flag. I miss the traditional Christmas dinner greatly -- my last one was three long years ago now -- but really, what's the point of going to all that effort when it's just not the same? So this year, we're ditching our preconceived notions of Christmas food and embracing the joys of the Beni cuisine. 

That's right. We're having the mother of all steak barbecues.

And while we can't have most of our blood family here, we can certainly throw a party for our beloved church family (indeed, steak would be as futile as turkey were we a mere trio). So, we're inviting them too. There will be no crackers. No Queen's Speech. No mild racism from a grandparent in the corner. And that's OK. We will be surrounded by 'loved ones', in their own unique way. And best of all, unlike your relatives, they'll probably all be gone with the last sausage, clearing the way for an evening of Die Hard, HRH on-demand, and panettone (a Bolivian festive tradition I've wholeheartedly embraced!).

Anyway, a happy Christmas to everyone. Actually, no. ¡Feliz Navidad!

Prayer

• Christmas Eve sees our church hold its usual annual service with contributions from our children and young people. It is often the only time that their parents will come each year, so please pray that we will be faithful as a church in not wasting that opportunity.
• Craig will be giving a short evangelistic talk at that same service. Pray for boldness and clarity.
• Pray for a special time on Monday with our Trinidad family.

Praise

• Amanda's mother, Selene, arrived on Tuesday afternoon to spend Christmas with us -- and to lend a hand over the school holidays! Give thanks for her safe arrival and for her great help to us already.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 16/12/17

Mother and conjunctivitis-riddled son, washing dishes
together, Wednesday morning. With hindsight, maybe
not the brightest of ideas.

Freak. Demon-eyes. Pinko. Alien spawn. Watermelon woman.

At this time of year, with its great emphasis upon giving and receiving among loved ones, the above is a mere sampling of the good-natured insults that Amanda and I have exchanged. Yep, you've probably already guessed it. This week, we were given the gift of conjunctivitis.

Trinidad has been in the midst of something of an epidemic these past weeks. For most of the last month, a good number of our friends in the community have been struck down by the highly contagious pink fiend; albeit, to varying degrees. By last weekend, we had somehow managed to steer clear of it, and assumed we were home and dry.

That was until Sunday night, when I felt some low-level itching and throbbing in the middle of the night, and struggled to get back to sleep. Sure enough, the mirror confirmed the worst, and Sam was next in the firing line. Still, for us lads, said mirror and Amanda's barbs were the only reminders of our ocular abnormality; the pain and irritation were minimal. Any pink remaining was of a decidedly Financial Times hue.

So we were glad that the worst seemed to have passed, and especially that Amanda had somehow kept out of its path of destruction.

That was until I woke up on Thursday morning next to an extra from a Star Trek episode set on Planet Zug-Zug. Overnight, Amanda's eyes had swollen to the size of small rugby balls (and more league than union, I might add). Not that I could see them, as it took vast quantities of chamomile tea (supposedly the best solution) just to be able to open the eyelids, stuck together with no end of gunge and gloop. Dynamite wouldn't have gone amiss. The eyes themselves were blood-red and highly painful. A few hours later, she was gripped by a fever. 

Sam shows off a little stable decoration he made at the club
this week.

All this, and Sam's tearing around the house like Hurricane Humphrey. Did this have to happen during the school holidays?

Anyway, with a little help from good friends, we were able to subcontract Sam's care, and I was freed up a little to attend to Amanda, whose eyes haven't shaken off that redness, but the pain is significantly reduced and they have reverted to their normal, beautiful, shape.

Working, as we do, in a health institute, meant we were necessarily based at home for the whole week, and that enabled me to work on end-of-year updates for FT sponsors and our own supporters, as well as starting to prepare for next weekend's Christmas Eve service, where I'll be giving a short evangelistic talk.

On that note, Sam's been able to get along to holiday club again this week, where much of the activity is building towards that same Christmas Eve service. And on Monday, he had his little end-of-year show with his class from school, in which he more than held his own in the much sought-after part of Bunny Rabbit #3. 

Sam with one of his teachers, Valeria,
on Monday evening.

Oh, and Amanda's Mum is arriving on Tuesday for an extended visit. I do hope she packs her goggles. 

Prayer

• That Amanda recovers soon from her conjunctivitis.
• For Amanda's mother's (Selene) travels over the next few days.

Praise

• For Sam's largely cooperative behaviour during these difficult days.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 09/12/17

Daddy & Sam on chairlift, Cochabamba.

We have had an unintended blogpost holiday, and it wasn’t until we got  message from someone mentioning how they missed our updates that we noticed. Oops. Sorry. The truth is that last weekend we were in Cochabamba for our 18-month Latin Link review and the weekend before that, well, I have no idea. It was too long ago, but apparently, we were busy. 

I (Amanda) can’t report on our activities from two weeks ago (as I can’t remember), but I can tell you that Cochabamba was fun. It involved good food, Man U football (for Craig) and late-night chats with friends (and a soft play adventure for Sam). We stayed with Jimmy and Brigitte Fernandez, fellow Latin Linkers, and Brigitte completed our review with us on the Friday. For those of you who don’t know, to fully join Latin Link you have to complete their two-year Stride program first. Essentially, it’s a two-year short-term program where you are supervised by the in-country Latin Link short term coordinator (Brigitte). So even though Craig and I have been in Bolivia for almost eight years now, we are technically short-termers with Latin Link. Once we complete our two years (next September), we will then be classed as full-term. One of the responsibilities of the short-term coordinator is to do six-monthly reviews with those under their care, hence our 18-month review. The review was intensive, and it was refreshing to go over all the good and bad of the last six months with someone who understands. 

We have horses in the streets in Trinidad, too; they can
usually be found rummaging around the garbage
at the end of our street.

The truth is that we have so many filters that we consciously or subconsciously apply to ourselves when we have conversations with anyone. The filters can be multi-layered with some people, or completely different with others. I guess as Christians, we sometimes use the phrase ‘the Sunday mask’ to kind of start talking about the topic of authenticity, but I think ‘filters’ goes further than that, and I think we do it with everyone. I choose to deepen conversations or not depending on who I am talking to and my past experiences with this person. I choose to share things or not with people depending on the person’s background and personal experiences. I choose to be vulnerable or not with friends and family based on how I think they are going to react. I filter. The person that anybody is the most unfiltered with is usually the person they are closest to, but even then, there are filters. I am definitely the most unfiltered with Craig, but I still have to filter. Maybe I present information or a scenario to him in a considered way that will most appeal to him, or I choose a moment to share bad news that I know would be better than another. This is still filtering. 

Why am I talking about filtering? Because missionaries to have filter a lot. I don’t know if we have to filter more than other people, as I have not been a lawyer, doctor, investment banker, teacher, etc. However, I definitely feel like I have to filter more than I did before I became a missionary and its exhausting. We filter what we say and how we say it to the people we are working with here in Bolivia. We have to constantly be aware of being culturally sensitive, and yet be assertive and authoritative in what we say. We have to know when to show vulnerability to build relationships, but when to hold back so as to not negatively affect the ministry. We have to live a Christian life that reflects what we’re teaching and yet show that it’s OK to struggle in this life sometimes (but not too much, because certain sins get higher eyebrow-lifts than others, which would affect our credibility, which in itself is filtering). We have to constantly give advice, care, affection, time etc, and filter out our needs for advice, care, affection, time etc if we feel that the other person is unreceptive to this (which happens a lot). Our job is filtering. 

Cochabamba's Cristo de la Concordia towers over Sam.

Then we have to filter how we interact with our supporters and prayer partners. I think as far as accountability goes, Craig and I try to be as open as we can and limit the number of filters we put into place. We want people to have a genuine idea of our life, which includes struggles. We don’t want to hide the bad. However, that doesn’t mean that our blog posts and emails are not carefully considered, with wording changed, paragraphs deleted and sometimes heated discussions as to content. Sometimes I just want to post a GIF of someone banging their head against a wall, but I choose to apply a filter to that decision (mainly because I don’t know how to post GIFs). And the filters that we need to consider and apply when the ‘M’ word is involved?!?! Money is a touchy subject. And there is no manual written for missionaries that works for everyone on how to deal with fundraising. The way someone can address funding needs in one place is completely different to someone in another place. Sometimes Craig and I have to send separate emails to our North American supporters and our UK supporters because the issue is dealt with in such varied ways. All of this is filtering. 

Then there are the ways that we filter with friends and family. We all do this, but maybe some more than others. What and how I share something with Craig is different than what and how I share something with my Mom, based on how important the information is and how I think the information is going to be received. 

We're not in Cochabamba any more: the scene we woke up to on Tuesday
morning. Rainy season has started here in earnest.

I think the art of filtering is something the majority of us learn to do from an early age and we generally do it subconsciously. However, recently it has started to be something I am noticing more and more and it has begun to be a bit of a strain. I don’t think it is something we can just stop doing, but sometimes I want to rip the filters off and spout off verbal musings to the world and say, “Hah, take that!” So, (going all the way back to the beginning) it was really refreshing to talk to Brigitte about life in general and current struggles because I could remove a lot of the filters. She understands our context, understands the culture, has been to see us in Trinidad and knows our surroundings, and she is our friend. I ripped off a whole pile of the filters that I feel have been constraining me for a while and it felt good. I think we apply a lot of filters to escape judgment from others, and it was so liberating to be listened to and not judged. 

Sam. You'll find him in the club.

Since coming back from Cochabamba, the school holidays have started. For the first time in our lives the school holidays are not quite as exciting as they have been. Sam’s home for two months!!! The church has a kids’ club three days a week for two hours and Craig is helping with that and takes Sam along. He’s also going to a friend’s house one morning a week so he has time with friends. Now we get to participate in the age-old problem: how do we entertain our child for two months without going crazy? It is going to be good times! 

Oh, Christmas decorations went up this week as well!

Sam makes a (sadly inedible) candy cane at said club.

Prayer

• Preparation for Christmas programmes both in the Foundation and in the church.
• The local kids’ time in the Kid’s Program, that they would respond to the gospel message.
• Sam’s time at home with us for the next two months; that we would be blessed by it and not find it stressful.

Praise

• Time with friends in Cochabamba last weekend.
• The end of many of FT’s yearly programs and the blessing they have been to people.
• A visit from Latin Link’s Bolivia Director Louis Woodley Friday evening.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda