Like This Child

Gabrielle and Timothy on the walking trail this winter.

To Do List

“I am good at what I do because I do what I do well.”
- DaRonn Washington

“Saint Augustine (1600 years ago) coined this maxim: “Love; and do what you will.” Brilliant!”
- Pastor Brian Zahnd

Thanks for your participation

Thank you for helping me to make this link list. If you ever know of any other missionaries who blog, please feel free to let me know. Here is the new list:

Dan and Daryl - Bolivia
Marisol - Bolivia
Maureen - Botswana
Sarah - Botswana
Mae - Denmark
Sarah - Indonesia
Brian & Bonnie - Italy
Rebekah - Peru
Brad - Philippines
Alece - South Africa
Becca - South Africa
Charlene - South Africa
Dave - South Africa
Josh - South Africa
Kelly - South Africa
Misti - Thailand
Josh & Chana - Turkey/China
Rick - Ukraine
Victory Christian Center (Tulsa) missionaries - various countries

Video link of Tyler walking

You can click this link to see a video of Tyler walking. There is not sound and the image is dark. But you get the picture. Enjoy!

http://christnationministries.org/English/tylerwalkingvideofinal.wmv

Hippo Happiness

My Gabrielle is so happy with her new hippo tent. Oh, the life of a six year old!

“Hey Missionaries!”

I am compiling a link list of missionaries who blog. If you are a missionary (or know of a missionary who blogs) and you want to be on my link list then contact me. So far the links I have are:

Marisol - Bolivia
Dan and Daryl - Bolivia
Mae - Denmark
Blad Clere - Philippines
Alece - South Africa

Here is a fun little missionary thing:

Missionary Survival Kit


The card reads:
A rubber band so you can snap back when you are stretched a little too thin…
A piece of candy to remind you that life is sweet…
A string to tie things together when everything is falling apart…
A penny to remind you that your thoughts are important…
A toothpick to help you pick out the good in every situation…
A puzzle piece to represent you as an important part of the larger picture…
A card to remind you to play and enjoy yourself…

A question for my missionary buddies: What is the last thing that you did to enjoy yourself? What I did… I took a nap this afternoon; it was nice. (smile)

Learner

Learn

Re-learn

Un-learn

Did you know that in some languages the same word is used for learn and teach? The two concepts are dependant one upon another. As a teacher can I say that I have taught if the students have not learned anything? And can I say that they have learned anything if I cannot see some change in their behavior, way of thinking or way of believing?

How do I know if God has taught me something? If I have learned from him then there will be a change in me.

“So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.”

This excerpt was taken from the Message translation of the letter to the Romans in the 12th chapter.

Basement Beginnings - 5

Part 5 – Cochabamba, Bolivia
(The end?)

A friend once said that in real life “happily ever after” is not the end; rather it is a beginning. This little series ends here. But as the title implies, the events that led up to our move to Cochabamba in 2003 were just the starting of what is happening now. The day of small beginnings is not despised.

Sometimes I walk around on the grounds here and I marvel at what has been established. What began in a basement and moved through various other small-room stages is now anything but little. Yet there is in me anticipation for greater things to come. We are not through. We have only just begun.

I could not finish this series without expressing in written form my deep gratitude to the Lord God for all that He has done. His hands have formed, led, corrected, applauded, and consoled us. My heart swells with thanks to Him.

Basement Beginnings - 4

Part 4 – Santa Cruz, Bolivia
(Maids quarters)

Youth is marked by three outstanding characteristics: invincibility, omniscience and hope. Without these one would never risk it all in pursuit of a passion. The Neverlands and Narnias, Wonderlands and Lands of Oz would never be discovered were it not for these three magical spells that have been spoken over all wide-eyed girls and boys.

DaRonn and I were enchanted and our mysterious land yet to be discovered was Bolivia. After a 10 day trip with a group from church to help with a crusade in the spring of 2001 we were ever so much more convinced that we were to spend our internship time in Santa Cruz, Bolivia with a missionary couple that were connected with Tulsa’s Victory Christian Center. They graciously extended the invitation for us to come and we spent the summer months in preparation.

A few significant things took place. In July we decided that if we were really going to live overseas fully supported by donations then we must practice now; so DaRonn stopped working his temp jobs that he might dedicate his full attention to the fund-raising process. August brought us our third child; she was 10 weeks old when we moved to Bolivia. In September the twin towers were hit; thus changing airport procedures forever.

We were red-flagged because of the five one way tickets we had purchased for our family. Our bags and babies were searched at every checkpoint. I landed in humid Santa Cruz exhausted and hoarse after the journey that took close to 24 hours. Trying to make use of all our carry-on and check-on privileges we had checked 13 duct-taped rubber tubs and had 10 hand bags. Three-year-old Raimy and two-year-old Timothy each had a little rolling bag to tote around. I had the baby on a front pack and a back-pack on the back keeping my hands free for my toddlers. DaRonn carried the rest.

We left October 31 and landed November 1, Bolivia’s “Day of the Dead” on which they celebrate their dead ancestors by visiting the grave sites and sharing a meal together, leaving the leftovers for the spirits to enjoy. How odd it was as we drove into the city to look around and see every person dressed in black. Due to the fact that I had completely lost my voice I was unable to carry on a conversation with the missionary that had kindly picked us up from the airport. I was left to my thoughts. The main theme running through my mind was, “These people need Jesus.”

The missionaries had benevolently offered for us to stay with them until we could find our own place. The home they lived in, along with their four children, was in a neighborhood with dirt roads and high walls around all the houses. We were directed to a room behind their small place in the maid’s quarters. There was a bathroom attached to it. A double bed and a small table took up three fourths of the room. There was a closet and some wicker furniture as well. This was to be our home for the next six weeks. We shared it with the mosquitoes, spiders, quite an impressive variety of ants, biting flies, lizards, and scorpions.

Our next two years in that city were filled with adventures and challenges that could cover many pages. We were placed over the bible school operations, a public school outreach program and the children and nursery at the church. This couple had founded all of this work in the seven years they had been there at the time of our arrival. All the while we were learning Spanish and learning the Bolivian culture. Our internship was useful and I am grateful for it.

We knew that eventually we were going to launch out with a separate work. The instances that led to this breaking away will be saved for a later date. Suffice it to say that I am happy that we left the “maid’ quarters” stage of our missionary career. Cochabamba was the next destination as we packed up to move in November of 2003.

Basement Beginnings - 3

Part 3 – Tulsa, Oklahoma
(Garage)

“You make your choices and your choices make you.” This is a saying that holds much truth. There are other things that form us and shape our being beyond our control; thank God for it! Yet many of the outcomes of our life can be traced back to decisions that we have made. I read another quote just the other day, “If I succeed, I will give thanks. If Ifail, I will seek His Grace.” Choices are powerful things.

In our thoughts of grandeur we narrowed our choice of mission schools down to two: Ulf Ekman’s training center connected to Word of Life Church in Uppsala, Sweden or Billy Joe Daugherty’s Victory World Mission Training Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. We opted for the latter. Off we went again making our way southward; a couple more inches closer on that map.

Fall was quickly approaching in the year 2000. Everything was packed in the truck down by the street, including DaRonn’s diploma. He finished his Business Administration degree with an emphasis in Marketing. I am so proud of him! We are standing together alone in an empty apartment and he decides that now would be a good time to tell me, “We have money for gas to get us down there, and that is it.” I knew that we did not have much; but somehow I knew that it was going to be ok. I looked at him, smiled, and said, “Ok, let’s go.” We turned to walk out and heard a knock.

There standing at the door was a friend from church breathing heavily from running up the three flights of stairs. The door had been left open; Shane Daniels popped his head in smiling and said, “I wanted to catch you before you left. Don’t open it ‘til you get to Tulsa.” He handed DaRonn a plain white envelope. The contents of that envelope were exactly enough for the deposit and first months rent!

God provided miraculously for us during that time. Once DaRonn was in his “office” (half of the garage of the duplex where we lived he had painted, put down a rug, and set up his desk) and his prayers turned to the financial needs we were facing. He sensed that God told him, “Look what you have in your hands.” And all of a sudden he remembered a check that had been given to him a few weeks ago that was just sitting on his desk.

Our spiritual preparation took place in Saint Joseph; the mud was being worked into formable clay. Tulsa is where we learned the technical ins-and-outs of this precarious career we had chosen; the hands of a skilled Potter were shaping us and then we were set out to dry. Santa Cruz, Bolivia is where it all would be put to the fiery test.

Basement Beginnings - 2

Part 2 – Saint Joseph, Missouri
(Storage room)

Obstacles are often open doors of opportunity. Anticipate change and the hardships help you. All may seem dark and difficult in the moment, but if you will just continue to put one foot in front of the other on the other side you will be able to see what was impossible to see from your previous perspective. As you give a slight glance back at the door you just walked through you will be grateful.

One car meant that I had to go pick him up. The drive to the mall where he was part of the management team at a sports shoe store was a prayer filled few minutes. There had been some shifting around in upper management. When all was said and done all of the mid level managers were asked to leave. He was standing on the curb with a box of personal belongings in his hands. His eyes were puffy. He climbed silently into the car. My mouth, which had been running a mile a minute in prayer on the way over, was now quiet. I was relieved.

This all took place at the end of summer of ‘98. We sat down on the couch and looked at each other. We were both thinking the same thing. Not two weeks passed and we had moved down to Saint Joseph, Missouri. Most of his credits transferred to Missouri Western. We knew that being able to continue with school was the only condition. DaRonn felt that God had told him that he needed to get his degree before he went to the mission field. He prayed that we would be 10 years advanced as missionaries when we landed if we took the time to go through school. So what’s in Saint Joseph?

Backtracking a few months; before our baby was born in March 1998 we had been hunting for a church there in Omaha. Easter was coming and we had been invited by a friend (who was a newly hired associate pastor) to come and attend Word of Life Church. He had been raving about how wonderful the people were, especially the pastors. We made the 2 hour drive down with some other members of my family. We knew the hunt was over. For 5 months (March to August) we made the commute once a week to church. So it was only logical to us that when he had no more obligations to his job that we would make the move down.

On the map this move took us about an inch closer to Bolivia. I was happy that we were headed in the right direction. Not just the right direction physically; but I felt like this was a decision we made based wholly on our priority of preparing for the mission field. God had shut a door and another had opened before us.

We left the basement stage and were now in the storage room stage. Most of our ministry desires were fulfilled through volunteer positions with church. It was in this city that we learned how to trust God for, well, for everything really. It seemed like every single message at church during our two years living there was about faith. We learned to live by faith. We used our faith to kill the bugs in our apartment, to put gas in our car, for milk and diapers for our baby, to put food on our table, to pay the hospital bills for the birth of our second child, and for work for DaRonn. He worked mostly temp jobs, but there was one job that makes us smile every time we think about it.

The whole time we were there things were tight. One day we got a call from a business owner at church that knew a little about our situation. He alluded to a job. Wow, we were so excited! DaRonn went to his office. The man explained how the business worked. They sold fancy vacuum cleaners and took old trade-ins to offset the cost for clients. So he told DaRonn that he had about 50 old trade-in vacuums that he wanted to give to us. What?! He said that we could sell the vacuums; all we had to do was haul them. The old Century Apartments complex where we lived had storage rooms for each of the tenants. We filled that room with vacuums and vacuum parts. There were tubes and hoses hanging from the ceiling and canisters and uprights piled on the floor. Every time I tripped and stumbled over the vacuums to pull the string that hung by the light bulb in that room I had to laugh!

From borrowed basement beginnings to scraping by with a stuffed storage room, our next stop: a garage in a state where the wind goes sweeping down the plain.

Basement Beginnings - 1

Part 1 – Omaha, Nebraska
(Basement)

The birthing of big dreams conceived in the heart of man oftentimes takes place in the most obscure locations. Two famous examples are Bill Gates’ Microsoft and Steve Jobs’ Pixar Studios; both men began by building computers in a garage. Many scientists, inventors and artists have utilized garages, basements, and other such rooms relegated for nothing more than storage as a maternity ward in which visions that have only existed in their imagination come forth through the pangs of trial and error. If you think about it, even our Lord, King Jesus, was born in nothing more than a poor stable.

The beginning of Christ Nation Ministries is no exception. Upon graduating from high school DaRonn Washington was passionate about God; and he was homeless. His mother decided that it was time for him to get out on his own. The transition months were spent in a room in his pastor’s basement in Omaha, Nebraska. Amongst the college applications, job applications and scholarship applications he found time for applying himself to time with the Lord receiving strategies and dreaming about ministry.

His best friend at the time was none other than yours truly. He asked me to pray about what part I should take in the commencement of this newly named operation. It seemed that it was all that we talked about. He was especially convinced about the urgency of doing something multi-faceted on a grand scale. I felt that my part was to be his “right hand man”. I didn’t know that meant filing, spell checking, and running to the copy center all from the make shift office of that damp basement. Actually, I didn’t know a frazzling thing what it meant. I was just happy to be around such energy and decidedness.

During Thanksgiving break of his sophomore year at U.N.O. (the University of Nebraska at Omaha) we were married and moved all ministry operations to the confines of a tiny corner in our home: an 800 square foot apartment with walls that seemed to be made of cardboard and plumbing that was always backed up. The fundraising efforts for our first trip overseas together with Teen Mania to Costa Rica were realized during our first months of marriage at our wobbly kitchen table. Returning from that trip with the anticipation of our first child we moved to a slightly larger place on the third floor of an old apartment building. The place had character and there was even a little area that we turned into a study. DaRonn was working full time and going to school full time. I was a mommy.

Life was good, fun, and new. By this time we knew that we needed to prepare to be missionaries. The big question was: where? Our walls were papered with maps. Russia? India? China? Africa? While sitting in a geology class DaRonn’s teacher showed a video about Bolivia. When the faces of the people flashed on the screen a burning sensation burst in my husband’s heart and he felt that these words impressed on him, “That is where you start.” Infused with a sure direction we began to take steps towards this mysterious land. And then the phone call came, “Ang’ they just fired me.”

(to be continued…)

Bath Time Fun

I feel loved!

Three people found the lyrics I was loking for; I feel loved!

Larnelle Harris:The Strength Of The Lord
From LyricWiki

Sometimes life seems like words and music
That can't quite become a song.
So we cry inside, and we try it again
And wonder what could be wrong.
But, when we turn to the Lord at the end of ourselves
Like we've done a time or two before
We find His truth is the same
As it has always been
We'll never need more

Chorus:It's not in trying But in trusting
It's not in running But in resting
Not in wondering But in praying
That we find the strength of the Lord
(2 times)

He's all we need
For our every need
We never need be alone
Still He'll let us go if we choose to
To live life on our own
Then the only good
That will ever be said
Of the pains we find ourselves in
There are places to gain
The wisdom to say
I'll never leave Him again

Chorus (2 times)

Not in wondering
But in praying
That we find the strength of the Lord

Lyric Hunt

This song has been rolling around in me the last few days:

It’s not in trying but in trusting
It’s not in running but in resting
It’s not in wondering but in praying
That we find the strength of the Lord

I have been searching for the rest of the lyrics; but I can’t seem to find them. I know that the author is Joni Eareckson Tada. If anybody knows where I can get the rest of the words I would be much obliged. Thank you kindly.

Screams that Humble

Showing up just on time allowed me to avoid the awkward questions that berate new comers. Being back in the States for a short time did not afford me ample time to connect with many of my friends so I didn’t want to let this opportunity slip by to be with one of them. Making my way to an inconspicuous seat I glanced around to see if she had arrived. Not being able to spot her I joined in the chorus with the rest of the ladies glad to be able to sing in English.

Still on my guard my senses were hyper sensitive and more aware than normal that evening. I might even go so far as to say I was a bit on edge. All of a sudden from across the aisle came this screeching sound. At first I thought someone was hurt and searched the crowd for the injured being. Then again a scream pealed out. This time I was able to locate the source. But, contrary to my primary evaluation, I saw a robust woman with a huge smile on her face swaying to the lively music clapping her hands and, for lack of a better description, singing.

Thoroughly distracted by the sounds coming from this woman’s mouth I began to reason within myself, “Someone really ought to speak to this gal; she sounds like a dying cat.” Things went from bad to worse as I thought to myself, “I’ll bet she is just doing that to draw attention to herself.” Then I went off (this all taking place in my mind of course) into name calling, “Self-righteous, boastful, pride filled…” We will stop there.

Then the leader told us that we needed to break into groups at the tables set up in an adjacent room. I hadn’t noticed when my friend came in due to extenuating circumstances. Now I made a bee-line for her. After hearty hugs and gleeful greetings she led me to the group that she met with each week. And what to my wondering eyes should appear?

You guessed it! Cat woman was already comfortably seated chatting with the others at the very table we were headed towards. For a split second I thought maybe we would just pass on by and I would be free. No such luck. I was going to have to talk with the person I had characterized. How odd that we were supposed to be focusing on God and all I could do was focus on this lady. Time that should have been dedicated to worship was juxtaposed with slanderous, judgmental thoughts.

I held my tongue as much as I could. My conscious was eating at me. It felt like I had Jiminy Cricket the size of an elephant sitting on my shoulders. I finally cracked under the pressure. In my heart and under my breath I whispered out an apology to the Lord for my loveless behavior. Relieved, I entered into the discussion about the chapter of the book they were reading.

I paid special attention to the woman that I had mentally mistreated. Turns out she had an amazing story of overcoming many huge obstacles. I was glad that I had a change of heart so that I could learn from her.

But the story does not end there. Due to the fact that I was a missionary many of the ladies specifically asked for my opinion on some of the points of the discussion. I kept my answers as brief as possible because I wasn’t feeling very “missionaryish” just then. I was still ashamed, humbled by what had transpired. All of a sudden the lady two seats down from me got up out of her seat and made a little speech, “Since Angie probably doesn’t have this book I am going to give her mine. It is marked up half way through, because that is as far as we have read. But I don’t think she’ll mind because those are the good parts.” She gave me a huge warm smile and handed me the book.

By now I bet you know who it was who gave me the book. To this day I still do not know her name. It was the very woman I had ridiculed in my mind. I should have looked up at her name tag; she had come in her janitor overalls right from work. I knew that this was not a small sacrifice for her. All I could do was look into her beaming joy-filled face and say, “Thank you.”

When I feel the urge to jump to conclusions I am reminded about this instance. I cannot say that I have arrived; I am still growing in this. I am just so grateful for the grace of God. He used the person I had belittled to add value to my life. What a good, good God.

Word Passion

Words are one of my passions. I absolutely love that I am able to express myself in two languages; the possibilities are multiplied. My hunger for words never seems to be satiated. Growing up playing anagrams, scrabble, and boggle with my grandma, sister and mother addicted me to the wonderful world of words. I love reading, writing, hearing, speaking and typing all because I enter into the fanciful world of mixing up letters and phrases to arrive at a meaning beyond just lines on a page or bits of sound waves floating in the air. In a very mysterious way we are set above all creation as God’s prize by the ability to breathe out words that have the power to form, edify, communicate, destroy, inspire and worship; these are all things belonging to the miraculous.

So, because I love words so much I have added a few widgets to my blog. You will see them on the right hand side bar. Four new things have been added: English word of the day, Spanish word of the day, Spanish idiom of the day, and some Spanish pronunciation tips. I put them there for my own personal enjoyment - a couple special surprises just for me every day – but you can pop in and partake if you want to.

It just dawned on me that this is probably the reason that I love to see comments on my blogs so much; words are valuable and precious to me. Hint, hint (smile). Do you have a favorite word? One of mine is: kaleidoscope.

What --> Who

All the leadership development materials have a strong stress on goal setting using a variety of terms: goals, vision, objectives, priorities, long term planning, short term planning, effective time management, mission statement, etc.

For years I have done something that could be described as goal setting a couple times throughout the year and then on a smaller scale every once in a while to help me with my week’s plan if I saw that I was going to bogged down.

Sometime last month I sat down with my pen and notebook and started writing the days of the week at the top of the page in a row. Then I sighed as I thought about what I was going to write in those columns. I just couldn’t do it any more. It seemed pointless, empty and outright boring. I just couldn’t bring myself to reorganize yet again.

So I stared at the page and tried to mentally pump myself up. My self talk sounded something like, “Come on Ang’. You’ve got goals don’t you? Remember what you are working towards?” But then I couldn’t answer myself; at least not with a satisfying response. Anything I said seemed trite and trivial.

Then some thoughts came to me and I started writing myself a note. Here is some of what I wrote:

“See this right here? You start this so many times. But what do you do with it? And now you are going to sit down and try to do it again. If you are going to do it then why not start with what is most important to you? … Could I fill a weekly chart with who I love and that order my life? Hm… I think if I replace what with who that it might bring a good order to my life. I might just try that. Because, really, all my whats come back to a who. Let’s try it… It’s only paper. I do what I do for who?”

This is my new motivator and the clarifier when things get hairy:

I do what I do for who?

We are…

Here are some thoughts:

We are living sacrifices that can jump off the altar.
We are Holy Spirit fruit trees that can refuse to bear fruit.
We are living stones that can wiggle out of place and crumble to pieces.
We are a body that at times inflicts personal injuries.
We are a light that is often hidden or snuffed out.
We are an army of soldiers that are sometimes turn-coats.
We are gifts tied up all pretty and neat. When do we get opened?
We are ambassadors and citizens of heaven. Who do we represent with our lifestyle?
We are salt. How is our passion level flavoring society?
We are a city on a hill in plain sight. Is the work of the climb in pursuit of a relationship with us worth the effort?

It all comes down to a choice to submit to the authority of God and His word – or not.

It is not my intention to be in danger of walking on the brink of cynicism or becoming hardened by a spirit of criticism. Rather I hope that these statements would pose a challenge and incite righteous indignation. That there would be in us as a corporate representation of God to this generation a desire to live a life marked by uncompromising love for people who need to see the truth lived in real flesh and blood.

Piracy, Betrayal and Confessions

Subtitle: Life lesson from a vacuum cleaner

Dark deeds follow the fermentation of evil sown in the fertile soil of frail humanity. In the vicious cycle of the current world order one mischievous act triggers another. Seemingly harmless offenses, justified by the ends attained, can lead to more frequent and questionable infractions. This afternoon played witness to such a state of affairs.

The first act was piracy. Due to the vast amount of media available through the simple internet cord many families make a living by creating marketable videos and selling the copies. Legitimate taxes are paid on property owned by venders of illegitimate goods. The novelties of late are dramatic television series on DVD. A whole season can be purchased for a few measly bucks. Being the proud Americans that we are, and not wanting to be left in the cultural dust of our compatriots we have purchased a couple of the shows. (Gasp!) Seeing as we could download the material for ourselves for free it would only stand to reason that our choice to further the Bolivian economy is in essence an act of kindness. Yet the impish whispers of doubt do nag at the back of one’s mind.

Thus began the compromise. It is a shame to tell what occurrence followed. Not many days ago my husband and I started to watch a series together. Not being able to finish all the episodes in one sitting we left it for another time. During the course of the afternoon my husband busied himself at his office with preparations for the evening church service. Left to my own devices the seeds of doubt planted by participation in the act of piracy sprouted into seedlings of betrayal. I thought to myself that there would not be great harm done if I were to just watch one more episode without my husband. Justifications grew like the bright green leaves that cover the tiny branches of a new sprout. Making sure that I had sufficient time I push the play button and gave life to the betrayal that I had already committed in my imagination. I watched the whole episode without being discovered. As the final credits rolled up the screen the dreaded guilt berated me.

Somehow the previous justifications now seemed shallow. Whatever was I going to do? I decided that I must pay penance. What could be severe enough? Housework! Yes, that would do it. The good deed of sprucing up a bit would cover up the evil done. And it might even be a perfect alibi for the time I was left to myself. Yes! It was a perfect cover up. He would find me working and be none the wiser.

I went looking for the vacuum. Turning on the machine created a high pitched squealing sound and a bright red warning light. Something was obstructing the suction. The endeavor to reveal the culprit commenced. The bag being emptied of filth and dust I turned my attention to the hose and the metal tubing. Holding the tube up to the light all I could see was darkness. Dismantling the pieces I found much dirt packed in. Just as I was pulling out the gunk my husband walked in! After a quick breath at the surprise of seeing him I check my guilt and reassured myself that my plan was working: he found me doing chores. As he watched what I was doing he smiled and kissed me. Oh! Why did he have to be so sweet?! I sputtered out an explanation about the clogged vacuum. He watched as my dirty fingers retrieved the problematic magnetic toy that had been the cause of the clog.

As I held the toy and looked in his unsuspecting face I was flooded by feelings of goodness that drowned the seedling of sin that I sprouted in my heart. I knew that I must confess. So I did. I blurted it out before I could second guess the prodding to upright behavior, “I watched the next Lost episode!” Suffice it to say that my dear man was shocked and playfully administered my chastening.

You see, that vacuum clinched it for me. It was unable to perform according to its created design due to an obstruction. Any good that it could do was thwarted by a tiny, seemingly insignificant toy. It was the same thing happening in me. I, too, was clogged up by a betrayal and attempted deception. Until it was confessed and brought to the light any good works that I desired to perform would be thwarted by that obstruction. My design was not created to harbor a wrong doing. The confession was embarrassing and liberating at the same time. The dirt that had accumulated was cleaned out and I was able to continue with a clear conscience.

So, what is the moral of my story? You can draw your own conclusions; but I for one am convinced more than ever of the importance of regular confession. While I may have to earn back the trust of my good man I am glad that there is now nothing between us obstructing the continuance of our relationship. And now I am going to re-watch the episode with my husband.

Raimy’s Song

It all happened so fast. Church was about to start one Thursday night a few weeks ago. A couple of members came up to me and asked if my 9 year old daughter could help them with a music project the next day. They assured me that the song that she would be learning was a Christian one. The couple had been attending church for a while so I said that it would be fine.

The next day when they came to pick her up I got some more details, turns out that they needed a child’s voice for a music CD that they were making. They were going to teach her the song in the morning and then record it in the afternoon. Then in a couple weeks they were going to go to La Paz (Bolivia’s capital) to do a children’s crusade. Each child at the crusade would receive a free copy of this CD with 10 songs on it.

She came home for lunch after learning the song in the morning. They had also sent with her a DVD so that she could practice. What a surprise we got when we popped it in and found out that all the songs were in English. My daughter explained to me that this couple had translated the songs to Spanish and that all the songs that they were making were in Spanish. The DVD was Hillsongs for Kids. It is a great DVD. We made a copy of it before she had to go back to do the recording.

They did the crusade in La Paz and are planning to do one here in Cochabamba in October. We are very excited about it.

Just yesterday they were able to bring a finished copy of the CD to give to Raimy. My kiddos were listening to it all evening dancing around and singing along. It was great fun.

To hear the song you can click on this link: RAIMY’S SONG. It is called "Tus Ojos" (Your Eyes) and speaks of the eyes of God looking for children that will worship him. Raimy's voice is the back up vocalist.