Go Light Your World...

Here's a video I made about my school.

Journeys to Georgetown

Today I am back in Georgetown, it is my first trip back here since I arrived in September. Anca, Kurt and I came for a 2 day ASI lay evangelism training program, our objective: free DVD players that we can use and donate to the different villages in our area that need them.

The ride across the immense Essequibo river was the roughest I’ve yet to encounter. I’ve discovered since my arrival here that there is no need for roller coasters or water parks in the mission field, at least not here in Guyana. We climbed up and dropped down waves on the choppy water so many times that I was sure my liver and stomach changed places several times, before coming to rest on the opposite side of my abdomen from whence they began. Along with each rise and fall of the boat I inevitably got wet, whether it was just a little spray, or a total dousing of water in my face. Thankfully the canvass provided in such boats helped to some extent, but by the time we arrived at our destination I had already had my shower for the day. Looking on the bright side, it will save me time later tonight!

Then came the always entertaining experience of driving from the river to Georgetown. Along with the usual clutter of vehicles, pedestrians, donkeys, mopeds, cows, geese, horse drawn carts, bicycles, goats, and school children to dodge in the streets. It never ceases to amaze me, as we weave in and out to avoid the many obstructions on the street, that I still haven’t seen any accidents take place. I love watching the people and the interesting city happenings as we drive. We stop at a school crossing, and the school kids stare at us “white people” then smile and wave, I return the smile. We drive past roadside vendors with carts piled high with oranges, mangoes, bananas, and coconut. I see Hindu temples with their colorful shrines out front, an Islamic high school with a courtyard full of young ladies in uniforms with white hijabs covering their heads, and even pass a sign that states “SDA church.”

Finally we arrive in the marketplace where we’ll catch our last minibus to the mission house. It is crowded with people, animals, motorcycles, and of course many minibuses painted ever color imaginable. We try to stay together in the jostling crowd of people as vendors shout at us the value of their wares, and taxi drivers yell and try to get us into their vehicles. We pass several men loading huge pieces of freshly cut cows into the back of a truck, nearby the entire cow hide, including the tails are draped over a trailer, the underside still red with blood. We continue past other carts with fresh fruits piled high, and carts carrying baked goods and other foodstuffs, my stomach rumbles hungrily since I didn’t eat lunch, but we continue on. Finally we board a minibus going in the proper direction, and we are off. Stopping at random intervals to pick up and drop off passengers, alternating between being crammed in tightly and actually having a little space as people come and go.

At last we arrive at the mission house where we’ll spend the night. We unload our things, clean up from our travels, and meet some other missionaries from another village who are also here for ASI. Then, wonder of wonders, for the last 45 minutes before we leave for the meeting I get the wonderful experience of high-speed (what is that again??) free internet from the hotel next door. Internet is such a beautiful thing, especially when it is working

River Travels

In our part of Guyana, the river is an integral part of our lives. It is our interstate, many times the only way to get from one point to another; or at the very least the shortest way. Cars are nearly non-existent in this area, instead families own boats. Something I discovered early on, is that the river rises and falls with the tide. When I first arrived I was able to step from the boat directly onto the dock, but the next time I was down at the river I was surprised to see the water so low that we had to climb down the steps onto another boarded ramp to get into the boat.

Riding up or down the river in our mission boat we pass smaller wooden dugout boats with dinky outboard motors, young school children paddling together to school, large lumbering flat barge type boats carrying logs down river to the sawmill, and many other miscellaneous boats being paddled or motored up and down the river. Some carrying goods to the market, others returning from the larger village with supplies, boats carrying families, or being paddled by a single individual, boats of many different shapes and sizes.
As we travel the river we are greeted by friendly waves from the passing boats. The shore is interspersed with stilted wooden houses, some with tin roofs and others with thatched roofs, but all with docks leading up from the river. At many homes the members can be seen bathing off the docks, or washing their clothes on the steps of the dock that lead down into the water, they always wave to us as well.

During our trips on the river we may glide along the glassy, unbroken water that stretches out before us, perfectly reflecting the trees and clouds, other times we bounce and jolt over wakes caused by other motorboats. We may travel in the cool mist of the morning before the sun has broken over the green canopy for the day, or head home in the gathering darkness after the sun has long since set. We travel on large rivers where the distant shore appears almost absent on the horizon, on smaller rivers that are lined with coconut trees, houses, and thicker jungle, and at times up even smaller rivers where we seem to be enveloped in jungle above and on either side or us. At times we see beautiful displays of color in sunsets, other times all that is visible above is menacing clouds and we hope we arrive at our destination before the next deluge of rain begins to pouring from the skies above.

Many times we are not lucky enough to evade the rain, so everyone quickly ducks under canvass coverings trying to keep their belongings dry, and as many body parts as possible out of the pouring rain. Then as the rain stops heads begin to emerge from under the canvass and sometimes are greeted by a brilliant rainbow as we continue our journey along the river that seems to stretch endlessly ahead, promising some new discovery around the next bend. Or perhaps just the arrival at our destination.

A Jungle Thanksgiving

Ah, Thanksgiving. That word alone conjures up multiple sights, smells, feelings, memories, and traditions. When I think of Thanksgiving, many things come to mind. Waking up early, and spending all day in the kitchen with my mom and sister making all kinds of good food, trying to sample the foods we were making without being scolded by my all-knowing mother, and then a delicious feast with all our family that always ends in groans of satisfied over-fullness. I remember my dad’s tradition of always going around the table and asking each of us what we were most thankful for, and the afternoon spent walking, throwing a football around, or maybe playing some other game in an attempt to alleviate our stuffed bellies.

This year, however, Thanksgiving was bound to be different. For one, it would be my first spent in the jungle, not to mention the fact that I was one of only four other North American individuals who would appreciate such an occasion. It didn’t help that the warmly humid weather lent itself to the illusion that it was summer, rather than nearly the first of December.

As the holiday approached, the four of us Thanksgivians got together to decide what we would do for the special occasion. We made a list of traditional dishes we would be able to make, green bean casserole was sadly omitted, as was any type of vegetarian turkey (we couldn’t bring ourselves to desecrate the dish by attempting to make it out of TVP). The list quickly took shape: stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, fresh rolls, I offered my two cans of Fri Chick that I had been stashing for just this occasion, others contributed dried cranberries to be boiled and made into cranberry sauce, homemade peach and blackberry jam brought from the States was added to the list, and most important of all, pumpkin pie, the delicious kind, complete with real cinnamon. We also put together our shopping list of special items to get in town. Our plan was to make the general meal for everyone, but have our dinner together at Michael and Lauren’s house complete with our special contributions.

Finally the big day arrived, since we still had our usual day of outreach, we had to do the cooking in shifts. In the morning Lauren boiled the potatoes, and yams, and dried the bread squares I had baked the night before. My turn came after lunch, since I was at the clinic all day with the students for outreach. It was my task to finish the marathon cooking session and put together all the different dishes, and man did I have a great time!

As the food came together, the familiar smells of thanksgiving began to accost my nostrils. The pumpkin pie filled the kitchen with the delicious aroma of cinnamon, and pumpkin and several times I had to stop what I was doing to simply breathe in the lovely scent. The stuffing also permeated the air with its savory odor, and I was already feeling the Thanksgiving spirit. I even got to sample my creations without being scolded, but somehow I could hear my mom’s voice somewhere within the far reaches of my mind.

Dinner time finally came, and it was time to partake of our feast. We gathered in Michael and Lauren’s small jungle home, that Lauren had decorated with a fall theme. Five of us were present, Michael, Lauren, Anca, and I from North America, and Saray from South America, here to celebrate together with a bountiful meal to make our own Thanksgiving memories. The table set for 5, complete with two candles, and the small table of food piled high with special treats. It was almost possible to forget we were in the jungle, and almost feel that if we looked out the window we would see bare trees, grey skies, and maybe even a few flurries of snow beginning to fall.

Our meal was absolutely delicious, everything tasting as it should taste for Thanksgiving. And in keeping with tradition, we thoroughly stuffed ourselves making it impossible to fit any desert in our full bellies without first taking a walk through the already dark jungle out onto the airstrip. After returning to the little home, we savored every last bite of pie and tropical fruit salad, despite still feeling like our stomachs were near bursting. As we ate our desert we laughed, talked, and played games completing the evening of celebration.

So my first international Thanksgiving spent in another country, immersed in another culture, proved that tradition can be celebrated in many new ways. I am sure that this is only the beginning of memories that I will make in overseas holiday adventures wherever God may take me.

The Result of Tears

Two years ago there was a young girl living in the jungles of Guyana. She was 18 years old, and had 2 young children, the smallest only a few months old. This young girl felt so utterly despondent and hopeless one day that she decided the only possible escape was suicide. She managed to procure a deadly jungle herb, and cooked it into a poison then drained the cup and prepared to breathe her last.

Through a string of providential circumstances, a missionary nurse and the local health worker were able to intervene. The young girl was given charcoal, to bind the poison, then rushed to the hospital. She became violently ill, but miraculously did not die, and 2 days later walked out alive.
After this young girl returned, the missionary nurse and the health worker visited her in her home. As they talked with her, she opened her heart with them and told them her struggles while she cradled her tiny baby in her arms. The situation and the story moved them to tears, and the young girl unashamedly cried along with them.

For the next few weeks the missionary nurse visited the young girl faithfully, checking up on her, and trying to keep her encouraged. The girl improved physically, and mentally, and soon the visits were no longer necessary.

Two years later, a group of students are beginning their weekly outreach up and down the river. At the top of the river they stop at the very first house, and are greeted by a young woman named Ashana* and invited in. As they explain the purpose of their visit, to study the Bible, her eyes light up and she invites the group in. For over an hour these students and their leader go through a Bible study with Ashana and before they leave she insists that they return the following Thursday for another Bible study, to which they heartily agree.

The next week, when they arrive at Ashana’s house, they find about 8 other people present. During the week, she has invited all her neighbors over to her house for the Bible study this Thursday. After the Bible study comes to a close, Ashana informs the group of students that next week even more people will be present as she intends to invite her family, and friends.

Who is Ashana? She was the young girl who, two years ago, tried to end her life. Up to this point Ashana was uninterested in spiritual things, but when the group arrived to her house something changed. Leading that group of students was the husband of that missionary nurse. Ashana told him that that missionary nurse “Is my friend, because she cried over me, and shared her tears.”
Now, two years later, the seeds of those tears shed are bearing fruit in the life of a young girl who now has a future and a hope.

Jungle Weight Loss Program

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Day 1: Green grass=weight loss
We will begin our program discussing the benefits of green leafy food-stuffs. Green things are good for you. There, now that we have that out of the way lets move on to our program for the day. Today we are going to be taking a short walk through the jungle that is conveniently near-by, just follow me. Now we are going to take a short detour through this area, don’t mind the tearing sensation in your arms and legs, this is where the weight loss comes in. What you experiencing first hand, is razor grass, it is guaranteed to rid you of 2-3 lbs of unnecessary epidermis in no time flat. Come on, keep following me, just think of all the pounds that are being shaved away as we walk, think of how nice it will be to see the scale reading 3 lbs lighter tonight!
Expected outcome: up to 3lbs weight loss of epidermis

Day 2: Meet the Jigger family!
Today will begin with an examination of our feet, yes, our feet. After our lengthy travels through the jungle yesterday it is quite possible that we will have some little friends that have taken up residence in our toes, toe-nails, or soles. There, I see one now, that little red dot with a black center that’s a little tender to touching, that just happens to be Mrs. Jigger as she is feasting on your feet and giving birth to more Jigger babies. Now comes the fun part. I have with me a safety pin, a pair of tweezers, and toe nail clippers, these objects will aid me in removing these tenacious homemakers from your flesh. Don’t mind the pieces of flesh that must be chopped away to reach them, think of it as another pound being chipped away from our goal!
Expected outcome: approximately 1 lb weight loss of flesh

Day 3: Tropical sunlight
Today we are going to bask in the sun of the tropics! No you will not need to change into your swimming attire, all we’ll need is jeans, a t-shirt, and a good pair of shoes. What are we going to be doing? Nothing too difficult, just preparing a small field for transplanting some pumpkins. Here’s your hoe, the holes are already dug, all you have to do is mix the soil, sawdust, and fertilizer and viola you’re finished. Don’t worry, it should only take you about 3 hours. In that time, something will take place within your body. You will notice a strange liquid substance dripping down your forehead, back, abdomen, arms, legs, and even toe-nails, don’t panic, this is expected. As that liquid drains from your body you will see the pounds literally melting away. You will notice extra weight loss if you forgo the sunscreen and allow your skin to turn a nice hearty red, in 2-3 days as that skin peels easily from your body you will potentially add an extra pound to the amount previously lost.
Expected outcome: approximately 6 lbs in sweat, possible 1 lb more in 2-3 days from skin loss

Day 4: Bloodletting
We have much less work cut out for us today. In fact, all we have to do is sit around lazily for the evening. First we’ll take a bumpy tractor ride to a lovely little village called Mashabo, then simply wait for the sun to set. Ah, its getting dark now, and here they come, our friendly little visitors here to make us feel welcome as we enjoy the evening. No, don’t kill them, they’re part of the program. If all goes as planned, today will be very advantageous to our program. Don’t worry, you have enough blood to easily survive, even after these flying creatures have finished their feast. I bet you never thought you’d appreciate mosquitoes!
Expected outcome: up to 6 lbs weight loss in blood

Day 5: Shall we gather at the river…
Today we are taking a scenic journey up the river through the jungle. Don’t mind the threatening clouds in the sky above, its rainy season so they’re expected, in fact I am hoping for a little rain. As we travel on the watery trail before us, take the time to admire the beautiful trees, the bright flowers, the colorful macaws, and maybe we’ll get to see some cute little monkeys. Oh look, its just started pouring rain. Sorry, I don’t have anything to shield us from the rain, but don’t fear, everything is for a purpose. There, the rain is already finished, although we’re sopping wet. But as we travel, something is happening, notice the shivers from the cold air? That was our objective, as you shiver violently throughout the remainder of our trip you have the possibility of losing even more of that stubborn weight.
Expected outcome: possibly 2 lbs of weight loss by shivering

Day 6: Salty tears
Today we are going to spend in the kitchen. Actually, most of it will be spent cooking over the fireside back behind the kitchen to be more exact. Just think of all the tasty things we can make for dinner! Here, let me show you how to get the fire going, its not that hard even thought the wind is blowing. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way its time to get down to business. The menu for today is dahl, rice, and curry eddo, yum! I’m going to put you in charge of the fireside. Yes, I know its smoky, and the wind is blowing it directly in your eyes, but don‘t give up. Just think, we won’t have to use salt in the food because with all the tears coming from your eyes the food will be salty enough.
Expected outcome: up to 1 lb weight loss in tears

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What Can You Learn in 2 Months?

When I stop to ponder the fact that I’ve been here in the jungles of Guyana for a little over two months now, it amazes me how I already feel at home. It already feels completely normal to tuck in my mosquito net every night before climbing into bed; to wake up at 5:30 in the morning to see the sun beginning to peak over the green canopy of jungle; to run barefoot through jungle trails; to see monkeys, macaws, and toucans in the wild; to fall asleep every night with peaceful quiet except for the typical jungle noises. In a little over nine weeks the group of 22 individuals living in this little jungle clearing already feel like my second family. In some ways I feel like I have barely arrived, while at the same time I feel almost as if I have been here for months already.
I was pondering some things I’ve learned since my arrival, in case you’re curious I decided to include a list…

~things usually do not turn out as expected, so don’t come with preconceived ideas
~how to cook for a large group of people, with limited ingredients, and still make it interesting and good
~jungle flies are a tenaciously pesky breed of insects
~when a local suggests a time to meet, add at least an hour to that time and don’t plan on arriving for another twenty minutes
~when baking bread in a Dutch oven check often since you can only guestimate the temperature (so far my record is having the bread baked and half burned in 8 minutes)
~walking 2 miles through the jungle carrying a full propane tank is a very bad idea
~to keep my suitcase zipped up or giant cockroaches will take up residence and poop everywhere
~the basics of how to operate a chain saw
~anytime a trip is planned someone will forget something important causing everyone to sit and wait while they go back for it
~the number of mosquitoes on any given night is inversely proportional to the amount of repellent readily available
~the difference between a water coconut and a dry coconut
~how to sleep comfortably at night in a hammock
~all trips will probably consist of about half the time spent waiting for something or someone
~when one must do all laundry by hand it is best to avoid hammering, cutting, or burning one’s hands as washing clothes becomes very painful
~don’t try to walk 5 miles to the next village in the morning intending to be back by 12:45 for class, most likely you’ll end up running most of the way back and still arriving late
~mosquito nets are a wonderful invention
~I actually talk quite slowly when compared to the local people
~to expect to be asked to do things for Sabbath school or church 10 minutes before I’m expected to do them
~the local phrase “just now” means anything but that
~the 3 most important things never to forget: toilet paper, a flashlight, and an umbrella
~not to be surprised when plans change

My life feels so complete right now. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of knowing I’m exactly where God desires me to be.

Memories from Mashabo

These past nine days that I have spent in Mashabo are by far some of the best days I have had since arriving to Guyana nearly two months ago. I have learned many things, enjoyed myself immensely, drawn closer to God, seen first-hand the deep thirst for God in people’s hearts, and grown to love the beautiful children of that village.

Something that I am learning more and more, is the difference between necessities and extras. This week we were without electricity except for 2 hours during the meetings when we ran the generator, we had a deliciously aromatic outhouse, we bathed and washed our clothes in the creek, and we had fun making creative meals with our limited food over an open fire outside. Our most interesting meal of the week was a lunch of plantains, oranges and tortillas. Yet when the week was over none of us wanted to leave. Somehow when we have less, the truly important things bring more happiness.

This week I organized children's meetings, preached, did visitations during the day, did health talks, led out in the song service every night, cooked lunch for the kids at the school one day when the cook didn’t show up, made many of our meals, and learned so many new things. Not to mention being abundantly blessed myself. When it came time for us to leave Mashabo and head back to the school, all of us, without exception, were loathed to leave.

One of the later nights in the series when it we were starting to run out of benches for all the people

Taking blood pressures before the meetings

The kids program in our little building on stilts. Toward the end of the meetings we were totally full in this room, and kids were outside on the stairs. Sometimes when we sang active songs and the building started to sway a little, I wondered if we would come tumbling down=)

Home, sweet home. We stayed in the upper right corner of this building. The underneath part was the health center, and right behind it was the primary school and the field where we held the meetings. I slept in a hammock on the porch at the top of the stairs. The guys slept in the tent in front of the building
Willow cooking some plantains for lunch in our "kitchen" which was a fireplace outside. The school children loved to come and watch everything that we would do. They would crowd around watching us cook, clean, and even would come down and watch me bathe and wash my clothes. I really started to love those kids by the time we were finished.

My night to preach. Any idea what I talked about? Yep, the sanctuary, what else? It went really well...only problem was I didn't have enough time to cover all that I wanted to cover. I tried to tell the people that Paul preached until midnight so it was Biblical, but they didn't buy it=)

Our shower and washing machine. It was a nice little creek, and was close to where we were staying so that was nice. I decided that washing clothes in the creek is easier than a washtub, since its easier to rinse the clothes, and you don't have to fill it up with water.

Some of the cute school kids that were our shadow. They were grating coconuts the day that we made them lunch when the cook didn't show up

Our splendedly aromatic bathroom facilities. We had a couple resident tarantualas inside, they were fun to play with.

Getting some sleep Sabbath afternoon before the evening meeting

Enjoying some coconut milk, and some meat from a dry coconut in my other hand. Yum!

Anca and I with some of my kids that last night of the meetings. Man am I going to miss all of them!

Liz VS. Mosquitoes

From the very first night in Mashabo I noticed an abundance of small biting insects, known in most English-speaking countries as mosquitoes. Little did I know about the battle that would soon be waged…

It is the night of our first meeting. A group of us are standing up on the quaint jungle stage, complete with a palm-leafed cover, leading out in song service when the vermin first strike. It begins with a single sharp bite to my right ankle, I brush my ankle with my left foot and continue singing. Next I feel several simultaneous bites to both of my legs, again I try to remove the source of annoyance without drawing too much attention to myself. As the song service progresses the frequency of bites intensify, and it becomes more difficult to continue singing while still attempting to eliminate the blood-thirsty insects. Then the beasts cross all lines of what is acceptable and fly up my skirt to feast on the rest of my legs. Soon I am doing a strange little dance, that I am sure appears quite comical to the audience, in an attempt to rid myself of my unwelcome companions, without any success whatsoever. I can only bid my time until I can exit the stage and wage war on the obnoxious animals.
Mosquitoes: 1
Liz: 0

After the meeting is over, and we have had our group worship, it is time to retire to our respective pillows. The vile beasts are still working hard at their task of sucking dry all of my lovely blood, and I continue my work of thwarting their plans. I quickly brush my teeth, while flailing around with my free hand in an attempt to dissuade them from their persistence. Now it is time to crawl into my hammock for the night, I wildly swing my arms in the air to ward off the pesky cloud before diving under my mosquito net and pulling it down behind me. I listen for the all-too-familiar high pitched buzzing in my ear, but I have evaded them for the time being. Smugly I climb into my bed, for a peaceful nights rest, as I hear their buzzing attempts to reach me without success.
Liz: 1
Mosquitoes: 0

The second night of the meetings I have grown wise to the evil flying insect’s plans. This time I am well prepared, I have acquired a secret potion proven to give the little suckers a bitter mouth full. I have carefully applied this potion to every inch of skin, even the skin that appears to be out of reach of the menaces since I know they have no principles. I march confidently out to the field of battle, once again leading song service. I can hear their high-pitched whine around my head, and see them flying around in the light, but not a single flying pest ventures a bite of my precious epidermis. Another small victory.
Liz: 1
Mosquitoes:0

It is time for my shower. I gather my belongings and trek down the trail to our little creek to bathe. As I step into the cool, refreshing water I feel a sharp bite on my left arm, my enemies have found me yet again. As the precious repellant is washed off with every splash of water, the beasts grow more bold and begin to invite their family, friends, and even enemies to join them in their feast of my blood. I flail wildly in the air and attempt to quickly finish my cleansing mission before racing back up the trail to re-apply my magic potion.
Mosquitoes: 1
Liz: 0

As I walked the familiar five mile stretch of jungle leaving Mashabo the last night after the meetings, I carried with me many battle scars from the past several days. Individual battles had been fought, some won, others lost. But a valuable lesson was learned, appreciate the relatively limited supply of biting insects back at the school, and ALWAYS bring repellent.

Nightly Meetings

After a disappointing informal meeting Friday night, we were all very excited to have our first “real” meeting Sabbath night. After church on Sabbath we spent the afternoon going around throughout the village to invite people again to the meetings. Mashabo has about 300 villagers, we were expecting about 20-30 people every night, and maybe 15 or so kids.

The sun set, and we brought school benches out onto the field in front of the primary school, set up a pulpit on the stage, set up the generator and spliced the wires for lights, and got together to organize our program. It was decided that the kids would meet in the little upstairs ‘community center’ building, and we would split up, half with the kids, and half in the main meeting. There were 8 of us now, and we said a quick prayer asking for God’s blessing on our meeting that night.

To say that the meeting went well would be a severe understatement. We had about 40 people there and about 30 kids, the meeting flowed smoothly for the most part, and I had a blast with all the little kids. Something I have learned about the Amerindian people is that they are reserved and usually quiet around outsiders. As I led song service that first night, I had the hardest time getting any response our of anyone no matter how hard I tried. Even the kids were very quiet at first, but that slowly changed as the meetings went on, and by the end of the week they sang so loud that we were told that we were being a disturbance to the main meeting.

The next night went well also, we had about 45 adults and the same number of kids. Then Monday morning came, and 4 people from the group had to leave, two were students and had to resume classes, and the other two staff needed to be at the school as well. The four of us who remained were a little worried about how we would be able to do everything ourselves, but we resolved to do our bests. It was my night to preach, and somehow we would have to make do with two of us doing everything at the main meetings, and the other two doing everything with the kids.

We were in for a pleasant surprise that night, just a little over an hour before the evening meeting was to start, we saw two students from the school walking up the little trail shouldering backpacks and covered in sweat from the 5 mile walk. Needless to say, we were incredibly excited to see them, and very thankful for reinforcements and help. After that night, every afternoon two or three students would walk the 5 miles to Mashabo to help with the evening meetings, and then about 5:30 the next morning would walk the 5 miles back to the school in time for breakfast and classes. The students had a wonderful experience coming to help out, all of them wanted to come back again, and we were so grateful for the help!

As the nights passed by, we saw more and more people coming out each night. Every night we would bring more and more of the benches in the school out, and they were always filled before the night was over. Finally, by the end of the week we were using all the school benches, some of the smaller desks that could double as benches, and there still were people sitting on the ground. The last night of the meetings we had over 80 kids, and nearly 100 adults there. The theme of the message was heaven, and at the end Andre made an appeal and nearly half the audience came forward.

After coming from the United States, where we are happy when we have 10 people who aren't church members coming to an evangelistic series, seeing the turn out was amazing to me. Just to see the deep hunger these people have to learn more about God opened my eyes. What they lack is leadership and encouragement, the desire is there they just need direction.

What more can be said? I have never been part of a team coordinating an evangelistic series, much less planned everything in less than two weeks. But when God designs a project, He is more than able to bring it through to completion no matter how limited time or resources may be. These meetings taught me like never before to trust God in everything. Everyone who was involved received a blessing themselves, and it was obvious by the end of the week that the entire village was inspired by the nightly meetings as well.

To God be the glory!

Footsteps into Mashabo

Any good evangelistic series would not be complete without being accompanied by its own unique set of hindrances, and unexpected events. This set of meetings in Mashabo could not be any different.

Our plan was to leave campus Friday afternoon with all our supplies, bedding, and a weeks worth of food. The local tractor would carry us easily to our destination in plenty of time to settle in and prepare for the evening meeting. The afternoon was spent gathering everything of importance for the next 9 days together. Finally at about 3:30pm we were ready to go, but the tractor was nowhere to be seen.

As more time passed it became evident that it was highly likely we would need to walk if we were going to arrive in time for the evening meeting, so we gathered together the absolute essentials and began our jungle trek. Five individuals set out for the five mile walk, each with a backpack, and with two extra containers of food; it was almost 5pm.

In the beginning the walk was pleasant, the group chatted heartily together, and developed a strategy for carrying the containers of food between themselves. One of the bags of food was carried between two people, with one person possessing each handle. The other container was actually a bucket, which Andre and I balanced on a large stick between us, and each of us carried one end of the stick. It seemed, however, that as distance passed, our burdens grew heavier. Andre’s wife, Natoya, is pregnant, so after traveling for awhile I offered to carry her backpack, and we added mine to the stick we were carrying.

About halfway to our destination, night had already fallen, and we walked the jungle trail in the dark. Very quickly I decided it was prudent to replace my sandals. It is nice to walk barefoot through the jungle in the light of day, when one can see where their feet are being placed, but at night I discovered there are many painful objects that earnestly seek out the tender sole of unsuspecting feet to inflict pain. Not ten minutes down the road my faithful left flip-flop breathed its last, and was no more, it had broken. Lovely, my only pair of shoes with me, that meant I would have to resume stumbling barefoot in the dark hoping to avoid the many roots, fallen branches, or other such objects.

And stumble we did. In hindsight, it is evident that Andre and I had the short end of the stick, so-to-speak, with our load, and the other members of our group showed no mercy and marched along at a rapid pace, poor Andre was stuck with barefooted me. As the miles trudged by, we rotated our load from shoulders, to arms length and back again, praying for the end to arrive.
Finally, at 6:48pm, we arrived at the primary school where we were going to hold our meetings. The field was dark, we were tired, and not a person was in sight. We stopped at the head master’s house to pick up the needed keys, and found out that several people had been there around 6pm but had since left, and the church elders had never arrived. We picked up our burdens one last time, and walked up the hill to the building that would be our home for the next 9 days.

With only 12 minutes until the supposed meeting time, no generator until the rest of our things arrived the next day on the tractor, no people to speak to, and nothing set up for an evening meeting; all hope of having our first meeting slowly faded, much to our disappointment. We gathered together in the tiny two room apartment that would be our home for the next 9 days, ravenously devoured a simple supper, and discussed what to do. The verdict was have Friday evening worship together, go to bed, and be ready tomorrow for the first night of our series.
Then someone in the group noticed a group of about 10 young men loitering in the field in front of the primary school. It was quickly decided to have our worship outside, and possible include the young men if they were interested. As we gathered on the sidewalk in front of the school, singing praises to God with these young men whose faces were hidden in the dark, and Andre gave a shortened version of the planned sermon, we had the first informal meeting of our evangelistic series.

That night, sleeping on the wood floor with only blankets and pillows, we were welcomed into this new experience that would challenge and stretch us. Little did we know how wonderful the next nine nights would prove to be.

Meetings in Mashabo

Just wanted to drop a quick note to request prayers from anyone and everyone who happens to read my many musings.
Starting this Friday night the staff from the school are going to be doing a 9 night evangelistic series in Mashabo, the town I said is really wanting us to send missionaries to live and work there. This series is a really last minute idea, so please pray that the Lord will bless abundantly and many people will come out. I am going to be speaking one of the nights, it should be a lot of fun. I'll let you know how it went later.

A Nightime Shower

What would you do for a shower? Or have you even considered such a concept before? Our story today is about a young lady that is faced with just such a dilemma: how far will she go for a shower…

Darkness hangs like a mantle in a small jungle clearing, the only lights piercing the black of night are from various buildings situated in a circle, and the bright stars overhead. Night insects have long ago begun their symphony of sound that has become so familiar, and a lone figure is seen locking up the kitchen and heading back to the girl’s dorm for the evening. It is 8:45pm.

It has been a long day, and this certain young lady is looking forward to a cool refreshing shower to wash away the smoke and sweat from cooking over the fire all day. Wearily she climbs the stairs up to the dorm, and trudges into her room. After procuring the necessary shower items, she heads over to the shower and turns the knob expecting to see the welcome water flow forth, but nothing happens. That’s strange, it was sunny today so there was plenty of solar power for the pumps so no reason for the tanks not to be full. She checks the other two showers in the main part of the dorm, still no water. What to do? Going to bed in her current condition is simply out of the question. It seems the only thing left to do is bathe in the creek, something that she has not had the privilege of doing yet. Before this year, bathing in the creek was normal procedure, but that was before the lovely installation of showers. Now it seems that this particular young lady will have her first experience of creek bathing, and in the pitch black of night. After resigning herself to her fate, she throws her things into a bag, grabs her flashlight and flip-flops and heads off into the night.

Now, the creek runs past the far end of the clearing, about 30 feet into the jungle. This young lady has not been to this creek for quite some time, since there has not been any need to bathe in it and it is far to shallow to provide any interesting swimming opportunities, and she has never been to it at night. She begins her hike in the general direction of the creek, attempting to locate the small trail that leads through the tall grass and down the slope into the jungle. As she walks the thought crosses her mind that the tall grass she is tromping through would be an excellent home for a variety of poisonous snakes and other such creatures, but she tries not to think too hard about that possibility.

As the trail ventures into the jungle her small light seems even dimmer since the trees cast their shadows around her shrouding the faint glimmer of the stars above. She strains her eyes trying in an attempt to locate the small body of water she is searching for. Finally the beam of the flashlight reflects off the water further down the hill, but to this young lady’s dismay it is the wrong part of the creek. The location she has found is muddy, and would negate the purpose of bathing in the creek in the first place. She trudges back up the hill, looking for the right path that would take her to the sandy part of the creek that has a small platform for just such purposes. Deciding to cut through the grass rather than retrace the entire trail back up the hill she soon finds herself waist high in grass and regrets this decision. Soon she finds what appears to be the right trail and heads back down the hill into the trees in search of the elusive bathing area. This trail appears to end abruptly in the jungle, with no creek to be seen.

By this time the young lady in our story is rather tired of tromping through tall grass and jungle trees in the pitch black of night, and is almost ready to give up her quest for cleanliness, so she begins the trek back up the slope, out of the trees, and up the trail from whence she came. Passing the house of the clearing boss she sees him out on his porch and decides to give it one last try and ask him to point her in the direction of the proper trail. He seems rather surprised that she would venture out in search of the creek at such a late and dark our alone, but quickly presents a solution for her dilemma: fill a bucket from the 200 gallon containers behind his house and use that water for her evening session of washing.

Joyous to have found a source of the precious cleansing liquid this young lady quickly locates a bucket and procures the object of her long search. After hauling it back to the girls dorm she gets her first experience of bathing out of a bucket, under the girls dorm, in the blackness of night. Although she still cannot say that she has had the experience of bathing in the creek, especially at night, she still can say that she has tried something new.

~The End~

After the end of our story, that young lady did have the privilege of a creek experience, but it was in the light of day rather than the dead of night. It seems that one of the pipes that supplies the huge water containers for campus burst so there was no running water for the next day either. The irony was that in the middle of her creek escapade it started pouring down rain…ah the beauty of jungle living

Clearing the Jungle

Definitions for some words you might find unfamiliar:
Cutlass- long cutting tool resembling a machete
Cassava bread- a very thin, flat “bread” made from cassava root that looks and tastes similar to Styrofoam
Cook-up-a delicious mixture of rice and some type of beans or corn etc with various seasonings and usually flavored with coconut milk

You know those days that you fall into bed utterly exhausted but feeling like you accomplished a lot and had a great time? That is a pretty accurate description of today. My day was filled with hard work, hot sun, and sharp thorns; we spent the day clearing a 3 acre plot of jungle with chain saws, cutlasses, and our collective muscles. But it was a day filled with fun, and many new things, and we all finished the day with a sense of accomplishment in all we had done.
About 5 miles down the sandy jungle trail from our school lies a little village called Mashabo. This village has no church, and the village captain has been wanting some of the graduating students from our school to come and live in the village to do medical work and help plant a church. A few months ago a 3 acre plot, next to the lake in Mashabo, was donated for us to build a mission house. Sabbath night it was announced that early Sunday morning everyone who wanted to be part of clearing the 3 acres of jungle would head over there. Everyone eagerly indicated their desire to go along to help.

Bright and early Sunday morning the group headed for Mashabo, complete with a lot of water, 2 chain saws, all available cutlasses, and most importantly, many stalks of sugar cane. We bounced along through the jungle in the back of the tractor finally emerging in the clearing of the village with a beautiful view of the lake.

Down the trail everyone marched eagerly swinging the cutlasses at anything in sight…stomp, stomp, stomp…across the foot path over the swamp…stomp, stomp, stomp…through the shoulder high grass…stomp, stomp, stomp…into the shady jungle…stomp, stomp, stomp…then out onto a sandy area before reentering the jungle path….stomp, stomp, stomp…finally arriving in the area to be cleared. A quick organizational meeting to map out the plan to divide and conquer, and a prayer, before beginning the daunting task of clearing 3 acres of jungle.

Everyone began with gusto at first; chain saws whirred through thick jungle stumps, and cutlasses chopped through bushes, grass, and all other small vegetation in sight, others came behind to stack the wood and branches in piles around the stumps for burning. But as the day wore on, and the sun waxed hot, the gusto turned to grim determination to keep pressing on. Sunscreen was applied and reapplied, water was consumed at a seemingly continuous pace, sweat was repeatedly wiped from hot brows, and rapidly tiring muscles were urged on. Thorns added a helping hand of their own to the work, gashing arms and legs, cutting hands, and reaching through shoes to pierce the tender flesh of feet, rapidly making enemies of everyone they encountered.

At noon a cry went out “the food is here!” much to the relief of many rumbling bellies, but alas, it proved to be a false alarm. Back to work everyone plodded; one more hour and lunch would be here.

One o clock passed. The sun felt hotter, and the thorns seemed sharper. But the food was still strangely absent.

One thirty came and went, and still no lunch had arrived

Finally at two o clock the work was nearly done, and the many fires were lit. But still the boat carrying lunch was no where to be seen. By this time people were sitting around in the shade by the lake, and many of the hard workers had jumped into the lake, work clothes and all. Sugar cane was peeled and devoured, and even some cassava bread was passed around and crunched on in an attempt to quiet the many protesting stomachs. Everyone watched expectantly for the boat carrying lunch to arrive.

Then, when all hope of food was nearly gone, a boat was seen traveling toward the beach where everyone was waiting. The meal was unloaded, plates were produced, and everyone stampeded to procure their food, and lunch was hastily devoured. I can assure you, that was perhaps the most delicious cook-up I have ever eaten.
After eating , and swimming some more, our tired group began the trek back to the tractor carrying equipment, backpacks, and food utensils. On the bumpy 30 minute ride back to the school many of the tired laborers fell asleep in the back of the trailer, not an easy feat you can be sure, but exhaustion is an excellent sedative.

Today was a lot of hard work, and also a lot of fun, but I I for one know that tonight my pillow is a most welcome companion. My souvenirs procured for the day consist of the latest fashion of tropical sunburn, the tell-tale marks of my encounters with the friendly thorns, and a multitude of insect bites of nearly every variety.

Peaceful Moments in Time

I love moments that really speak to your heart; moments that usher you into the very presence of God…

I waken to birds beginning their chorus of song, darkness is still lingering in the room, I look at my clock; its 5:12. I push out of my mosquito net and make my way out onto the veranda. I find a mist hanging over the clearing in the jungle, the sky barely beginning to relinquish its dark velvet to the touch of light. No other noises accost my ears, just a still small voice…

We are traveling up river in the darkness after the sun has set, a lone flashlight on the bow of the boat attempting to cast light into the darkness ahead. Then we stop, and decide to have worship on the river. The engine of the boat is silent and the night noises of the jungle can be heard, along with our songs of praise. The stars shining brightly up above and the moon casting its beams of light to illuminate a path on our dark interstate of river. As we lift our voices in song, scripture, and prayer I feel peace…

The thunder clouds rapidly roll in darkening the blue sky. Suddenly rain begins to pour down from the churning clouds above. I can hear the thunder in the distance approaching nearer and still nearer. Then, without warning, I see a blinding bolt of light flash down from the sky striking a tree not more than 200 yards away. The resounding boom that follows sends chills through my body. If nature can be this powerful, what of the One who created the forces of nature…

Again I find myself sitting on the veranda in the morning. The sun has just broken out above the verdant green canopy of the jungle, its warm rays of light illuminating all they touch. I see the dew glistening off everything green, and I hear the birds singing praises to their creator. I feel like an intruder to their joyful worship but so very welcome…

We walk the path toward out jungle church together, through the green of the trees. Watching for beautiful butterflies, colorful birds, playful monkeys, and other interesting wildlife. As we walk, we talk back-and-forth about many topics, all found in the Book in our hand, fellowshipping together in His presence. What a beautiful morning…

Reject the worldly lie that says that life lies always up ahead
Let power go before control becomes a crust around you soul
Escape the hunger to possess and soul diminishing success
This world is full of narrow lines, I pray by grace your smile survives

~Michael Card

You might be a missionary somewhere in Guyana if…

…you routinely carry toilet paper with you to church

…your feet feel claustrophobic when you put on real shoes because you always wear flip-flops

…you are willing to go to the ends of the earth and do nearly anything to use the internet

…you are genuinely surprised to see clear water in a water bottle

…you’ve learned to ignore giant cockroaches as long as they aren’t pooping in your suitcases

…you’ve ever bargained using Big Franks or Fry Chick

…you’ve ever listened to someone talk to you, knowing full well they are speaking English, and had no idea what they were saying

…you’ve given up on ever having clean feet

…you are no longer surprised to see bats in church flying around the speakers head

…you wake up at 6am with the sun shining in your face feeling like you’ve over slept, and want to go to bed at 7pm because its pitch dark

…you’ve ever had “hey, white girl” or “hey, white boy” yelled at you while walking down the street

…the words ‘razor grass’ instill a healthy level of fear into your mind

…no matter what time of day you leave, or how bright the sun is shining you always bring an umbrella and a flashlight along with you

…you no longer give a second thought to seeing someone in the river bathing in their underwear

…you’ve ever been proposed to by a taxi driver

…you have ever dreamt of using an automatic washing machine and been disappointed when you woke up

…your night time routine includes examining your feet for jiggers and tucking in your mosquito net

…you’ve ever had a sudden craving for things like olives, corn chips, almonds, or popcorn

…you have a habit of checking the toilet for snakes and frogs before using it

Jungle Baby the Sequel

Just some follow up to the previous story…

Melissa and I sat talking this evening over dinner. Among the topics of our conversation surfaced the Sunday morning birth we attended, and Melissa shared some other details that she has found out since then. The story shocked me, and saddened me, while at the same making me even more thankful for the guiding hand of God in that precious baby’s delivery.

It seems that Stacy’s mother, who goes to our church, had been in total denial that her daughter was pregnant. She would become very angry any time the health worker, Melissa, or any of the other church members commented about a possible pregnancy. Telling everyone forcefully that Stacy was “just getting fat” and that “her grandmother was fat, and she is just taking after her.” Even the Friday before the delivery she had said that the community was trying to spread rumors about her family that weren’t true.

The morning of the baby’s entrance into the world, Stacy began having contractions early in the morning, and kept going to the outhouse over-and-over again. Finally her mother decided that something must be wrong, and it finally dawned on her that her daughter was in fact pregnant and was in the process of delivery. By that time it was around 5am, and she ran into the village to get the health worker about 1 mile away.

Meanwhile, Stacy was walking up the steps to the house and was becoming so weak from the contractions and labor that she fell onto the stairs and couldn’t get up. Her father asked her what was wrong, and she told him that she was in labor, he told her that she had “made her own bed, and now had to lie in it” and refused to help her. She had to crawl from the steps into her room by herself, where she gave birth to the baby without anyone there to help her. When we arrived Kim, another church member was there, and Melissa and I assumed that she had delivered the baby, but it turns out she arrived about 10 minutes after the baby was born and lying on the floor. We didn’t arrive until about 20 minutes after the delivery, and Stacy and the baby still lay alone on the floor. Stacy’s mother and the health worker arrived right after we did.

I amazes me that a young girl could go through that alone. I can only praise God that there were no complications, because Stacy could have hemorrhaged and been dead before we arrived, with no one to notice. The other miracle was that the baby was still alive, there are multiple reasons that the baby could have died while they both lay there on the floor with Stacy too weak to do anything for her baby. I am thankful for the watchful care of a loving Father who blessed so abundantly as this new life came into the world.

Early Morning Jungle Baby

Morning was drawing near in the jungle and I was battling sleep, trying to pluck my mind out of the blurred realm of dreams into the reality of daybreak. It seemed that every time I would near wakefulness an unseen hand reached out and pulled me back into the shrouded grey of unconsciousness. Then a persistent voice began to break through the clouds of sleep and reach my mind. Slowly I began to awaken and realize that someone was shouting my name from somewhere across campus, I looked at the clock; 5:27. I pushed my way out of my mosquito net and stumbled to the door and out onto the veranda wiping sleep from of my eyes. Melissa was standing on her porch calling me, as soon as she saw me emerge she shouted “Get dressed, we’re going into the village to deliver a baby!”

Instantly I snapped fully awake, and raced back into my room to get ready. I dug my scrubs out of my suitcase, hastily pulled them on, and then attempted to somewhat tame my curly morning hair into something presentable. Moments later Melissa was in front of the girls dorm in the Mule and I raced down the steps with my medical bag, and of course my camera. She had a delivery bag in the back of the Mule also, and we were off. Driving down the jungle trail in the early morning light she filled me in on the details. One of the church members daughters…17 years old…already had a daughter nearly 18 months old…parents and daughters in denial about the pregnancy despite the obvious changes…no prenatal care. The village health worker, who knew Stacy was obviously pregnant, had called Melissa telling her that Stacy was complaining of abdominal pain and asking us to meet her there. We could only imagine what we might find, and pray that there were no complications.

After what seemed like forever, we emerged from the jungle into the clearing of the village and pulled up at one of the first houses. Grabbing our things we bounded up the stairs, removed our shoes and entered the small 3 room house. The girls mother indicated the first room so we pushed open the door, and had to stare for a fraction of a second. There on the wooden floor boards lay Stacy, legs bare, a pool of blood around her, with a little baby lay half covered in a dirty towel on the floor, and the placenta in the process of being delivered.

Quickly we shifted into action-mode, I began to suction out the baby’s nose and mouth, thankful that the baby’s airway was already nearly clear, and almost immediately the baby let out an unhappy cry. Then I reached for 2 clamps and clamped off the umbilical cord once nearest the baby, and once nearer the placenta and cut the cord. Ramona, the health worker, arrived still in her pajamas after running about a mile from the village health center with some supplies. Melissa was helping deliver the rest of the after birth and I was cleaning and assessing the beautiful baby girl with a full head of black hair. I could only send up a prayer of thanks that everything had gone so smoothly. Stacy said she has only been in labor for 2 hours, and the baby had cried as soon as it was born, about 10 minutes before we got to the house.

Later, after cleaning up mother, baby, and the room, we sat in the main living area of the jungle home. Stacy lay in the hammock in the middle of the room feeding the baby, who had a voracious appetite. Outside the cooking fire crackled, a cool breeze was blowing carrying with it the acrid smell of smoke, I watched a small yellow and white kitten scampering around the yard, and the first rays of the sun were breaking over the green canopy of the jungle. We knelt in prayer, thanking God for the safe delivery and the health baby, and I sent up my own silent prayer to God thanking Him for leading me to this place, for the deep satisfaction I feel working here, and for this exciting early morning experience.

Two White Girls and the Internet

I want you to know that the internet you are currently using to read this blog is entirely taken for granted. Let me tell you a story that happened in a far away land, not too long ago. The story is about two white girls and the internet and it goes like this…

In a small clearing in the jungle live a hearty group of individuals. They really appreciate their little haven, it is so quiet and peaceful, so far removed from the busy cities and noise. But as much as these people love their little fellowship in the clearing, they also look forward with much expectancy to the days when they can travel down river to the larger village that has a precious commodity; a small room, with two computers that have a lovely little invention called “the internet.” Two white girls from the group are especially excited about the prospects of using this invention, but little do they know the adventure that is in store for them.

Our story begins on a Sunday afternoon after lunch. The group of 8 people from this clearing excitedly board the mule (4x4 type, not the animal) and drive down the jungle trail to the river. They load the boat with themselves and some empty gas containers to refill in the village down river, and away they go. Arriving in the village at about 3pm the group convenes for a short meeting to establish their time of departure back home. The time is set for 6:30, since a few of the small company need to take a taxi about 25 minutes into the next town for various reasons. Everyone agrees to return to the dock at the specified time, and away everyone scurries.

The two white girls decide between themselves to obtain the items on their meager shopping list first, since on Sunday one never knows when the shop owners will decide they feel like going home for the day. So away they trek to the shop, talking amongst themselves about how long they have to get everything done, and that it couldn’t possibly take them that long to accomplish their purposes. Soon they arrive at the shop and make their purchases, then its off to the object of their mission: the internet.

A short walk down the street they arrive at the internet café and find the doors shut up tight, so that the wild cats and the snakes wouldn’t get in and do the computers any harm. But all is not lost, Jenny the owner lives up the street and is always willing to open the café when asked since the store hours are advertised as being open on Sunday, so off they go to Jenny’s. They knock on her door, ring her bell, and ask her neighbors if they have seen her, to no avail. They are informed that Jenny is gone, and no one seems to know when she might return. This brings the two white girls happy plans to a screeching halt, no internet? What ever would they do? Again they put their heads together and decide to take a taxi up the road to Suddi, a town neither one of them had yet been to, in an attempt to locate an internet café that they are not sure even exists.

They walk back to the taxi driver assembly area and acquire a ride. Their taxi driver assures them before departure that he knows of an internet café, so off they go down the road. The taxi stops to pick up another passenger and the taxi driver begins to casually question him about whether he knows of any internet café in Suddi, not a good sign. Several ideas are suggested, and the taxi stops at a little shop, goes inside, then quickly emerges and tells the two white girls that this shop has internet. Happily the girls pay the fare, amounting to one US dollar each for a 15 mile ride, and head into the shop.

Their hopes are again dashed, they are informed that what the shop has is an internet phone, not actually internet access. The shop owner assures them that “down the road” there is an internet café, so the two white girls decide to begin walking and wave down another taxi when one passes. About a mile down the road a taxi stops and tells them that he is sure there is an internet café in the market place in Suddi, so they ride the last 3 miles into Suddi, only to find that there really is no such thing.

Their taxi driver does not run past Suddi so he finds another driver who says that there is an internet café about 3 miles down the road and he will take them there for 100 dollars for two of them, which is 50 cents US. The two girls look at each other, not sure if they believe the promise, but finally agree that they have come this far so they may as well go three more miles and see if there really is internet as promised. With that they get into the taxi and head up the road.

The driver stops on the side of the road in front of a house that advertises “internet café” and surprisingly the sign proclaims OPEN. The two white girls jump out and head up to the house, trying not to get their hopes up too high. They are happy to find that there is in fact internet access; a single computer that they soon finds moves so slowly it would make a turtle look speedy, but internet none-the-less. Mission accomplished. The story is not over however. The two white girls decide on 30 minutes each, and look at the clock; it is almost 5pm by now!

By the time the two white girls each take their half-hour of internet, the sun is setting. Now they have to catch a taxi back to the river village in time to meet the group at 6:30. This is easier said than done it seems, the two girls stand outside the house waiting for a taxi, and quickly find that all the taxis are going to other direction, and the few that are traveling the direction they need to go area already full. After nearly 20 minutes of waiting, a taxi finally stops, and the girls get in. The taxi driver only goes to Suddi, but thankfully agrees to go further to the river village since it is dark now and he tells the girls they may have a hard time finding another taxi. The two girls profusely thank the man, and send up a thank-you prayer to God.

The two white girls get back to the dock 15 minutes after they were supposed to arrive and find everyone in their group half worried about then, and half annoyed that they are late. Quickly everything is loaded into the boat and the group begins the trip back up river, with one white girl sitting in the bow of the boat shining her flashlight to watch for logs in the darkness.

It seems that the simple task of using the internet proved to be much more difficult than originally imagined, but the two girls are thankful to have been able to use what they found. This day has been quite the adventure for them, further proof that you never know what to expect in the mission field. It is not a day that will soon be forgotten, in hindsight it seems a bit humorous, but both girls arrived back in the clearing feeling very tired and looking forward to fellowship with their respective pillows. Hopefully their next trek to the internet café will not prove to be quite so exciting.


The End

Behold What Manner of Love

I came looking for Jesus this morning, desiring to know more of His character
When I found Him, He was hanging, suspended between heaven and earth
His body had been subjected to unimaginable suffering
His spirit tortured by the thought of eternal separation from his beloved Father
All this and more, we had done to Him; No, I had done

Yet as I gazed at Him through tear filled eyes I saw even more
I saw the only one to comfort Him was a criminal dying beside Him
The only one that day to express faith in His divinity and call Him Lord
I saw the joy in Jesus’ tortured eyes as He spoke the words of promise
Giving this sinful man a future and a hope, and forgiving his sins

I followed His tender gaze to a women in the crowd
Her heart was breaking as she stood looking up at her son
I saw in His eyes His great love for her, His desire for her well being
I heard the words spoken “John, behold, thy mother”
And I was taken aback at His thoughtful care amid His own suffering

Then I felt His eyes piercing my own soul
I felt a love greater than anything I could ever comprehend
“My child, all this for you. You are worth it to me”
I saw that He knew I would go my own way, and follow my own path
Yet with tender love and pity He pursued me relentlessly

The love I found could never adequately be expressed
It is beyond human comprehension and attainment to love like this
I can, in some small way, comprehend John’s inability to convey this love
Words failed him, and all he could do was tell us to look for ourselves
“Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us!”

So I challenge you, to take time to behold Jesus
Don’t take a mere glance then go your way, but take time to gaze at Him
At His unselfish life, and at the immeasurable price He paid for you
What you will find is something that you can never forget
It will shake you to the very core of your soul, and change you if you’ll allow

Pictures from Guyana

Here are a few pictures of the local happenings in the lovely village of Bethany, and on the campus of BMMC I hope you enjoy them.

Saray, Anca and I walking down the sandy path into Bethany to visit a villager who was sick. We're the three single staff ladies

My masterpiece this friday...pizza with everything made from scratch by yours truely. I was so proud of myself! The crust, the sauce (which turned out very well, if I may say so myself, better than anything you can buy from the store), and even the cheese, and check out the new use for exam gloves =)


Our Friday night supper is always special. We always try to make really yummy food and we all sit at one long table together.




Riding down the trail on the tractor and trailor, the only vehicles that are not boats in the village are tractors. The school has two, and one Mule (the vehicle, not the animal) and its always fun to ride throuh the jungle on them, definatly easier than walking because the trails are sand and feel like you are walking uphill.






This is the school house, the rest of the buildings on campus are build around it. The beautiful jungle in the background. We see panther and jaguar footprints around campus, and one day on the way to church a couple of the guys saw a young one run across the trail into the jungle. I am still waiting to see one






Anca and I singing special music for church. Behind us on the platform you can see a couple of the students at the school. This was the second week in a row that we got recruited for special music, we plan to volunteer some of the other students next time=)






Sand vollyball, one of our favorite evening
pastimes between dinner and worship. It gets dark really early down here, the sun goes down at about 5:45 and its dark by a little before 6:30

Is it lawful to kill centipedes on the Sabbath?

It was Sabbath morning, the birds were singing, a few clouds hung lazily in the morning sky reflecting the gold of the morning sun. Breakfast was over, and I was sitting out on the veranda having quiet time with God until it was time for church. It was completely peaceful, and I felt blessed to be alive.

Suddenly my solitude was broken by screams coming from inside the girls dorm. “Miss Liz! Come quick! AHH!!!” Thinking that perhaps one of my girls had lost a limb, or worse, I jumped up and raced into the dorm and into the room. I saw a cluster of 5 girls screaming and pointing up to the rafters, “there’s a centipede up there, quick you have to kill it.”

In order to truly appreciate their fears, I must describe this jungle menace to you. A more accurate name for this insect would be giant centipedes. They are usually about 6-12 inches, can run very fast, and if you are unlucky enough to be bitten by one you will enjoy a nice black and blue mark for many days that aches unbearably (that part I have only heard first hand from other victims, I have not yet felt it for myself).

I looked above me, and sure enough, there was a reddish-brown centipede on one of the rafters about 12 feet above me. Since I have been deemed the girls “centipede killer” after killing the last one that was found in Audrea’s bead, the task falls upon me to devise a way to get it down or to kill it while still up in the ceiling. A broom is the weapon of choice, but I am quickly told that it was taken to the cafeteria, so I must use other means to procure the vile beast. After searching around the girls’ room, I settle on a small tennis racket, and decide that the only way to reach the insect would be to climb up into the rafters myself; no easy feat. Using the window, I am high enough to get a hold of a board that I can use to pull myself upward. Thankfully, on this side of the dorm, there are rafters that protrude down and offer an easy balance beam, if I can reach them. For part of the way I am forced to shimmy upside-down, much like a sloth, hanging on with my hands and legs thrown around the board until there is enough space for me to crawl to the top of the board. As I near the object of interest he suddenly begins to race away, further toward the peak of the roof, so I keep crawling. Finally I reach him, thankful that he didn’t go any farther since the rafters that I could climb on abruptly ended.

Quickly, before he could scurry further out of reach, I attempted to smash him, but only succeeded in knocking him to the ground where the girls were crowded around watching my valiant attempts at conquering the beast. Almost in unison a harsh scream erupted from all the vocal cords present (except mine) and they began to chase the centipede and stomp on it before it escaped. As I made my way back down from the rafters, which proved to be harder than getting up, the girls loudly voiced their disgust at our house guest.

I was also given the privilege of disposing of the body, after I took a picture. Pleased that my mission was accomplished, complete with a few pictures to chronicle the adventures of the morning, I headed back to my quiet time. I decided against informing my girls of the bats I saw in the rafters while I was climbing around up there, best let it remain a mystery so as to keep peace.