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.
Showing posts with label Basement Beginnings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Basement Beginnings. Show all posts
Friday, August 24
Thursday, August 23
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.
(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.
Wednesday, August 22
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.
(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.
Tuesday, August 21
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.
(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.
Monday, August 20
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…)
(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…)
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