Early Morning Scrub

Since returning to Bolivia after a visit to the States, I've gotten into a bit of new routine that I'm really enjoying. These days, I don't know many people who haven't made some lifestyle changes due to the economy. I am blessed that my support continues to be faithful and covers my monthly expenses, however, I felt the need to make some changes in my spending habits to be a better steward of other people's hard-earned money. One of those changes is deciding to hand wash my clothes instead of sending them out to be done.

I've somehow become a morning person. I never thought it would happen, and those of you who know me from years past would not have predicted it. Yet, ever since we were robbed just shy of a year ago, I am up with the sun that peaks into my window over the eastern mountain range 6ish every morning, and I'm really okay with it. There are some mornings I admittedly would like to sleep in, but I actually get fidgety and have to get up.

So now, most of my mornings start with doing laundry from the day before. One of the great things here is that everyone seems to have a utility sink, and although I live in an apartment, we have a partially covered outdoor area that includes a utility sink where I can look out through the latticework brick 'windows' and watch the sun rise on Mt. Tunari (pictured above). I never get tired of those mountains, and every morning they call me into communion with God, where we have a nice quiet time before the rest of the city is making its racket and the tantrum bird begins its cries (it sounds like a child screaming at the top of their lungs until they have no more breath, then breathing in deeply to start it all over again).

This morning I was reminded of my first international short-term mission trip when I was in the Dominican Republic (14 years ago!). About 2/3 of the way through our time at a small World Vision sponsored school in Azua, one of the moms who was very thankful for our work there, volunteered to wash our clothes. We were told to only pick a few essentials since there were so many of us, but even still, there was a mountain of clothes to be done. I felt badly seeing that giant mound, knowing it was going to take her hours to finish it all.

I was one of the few on the team that spoke Spanish, so I thought I'd let her know how much we appreciated her gift of clean clothes. I remember having a hard time understanding her, mostly because she only had about 5 or 6 teeth left, so her pronunciation was difficult to make out. We managed a conversation though, and I joined her for a while, learning how to really hand wash clothes, beyond the few delicates I had done in Woolite.

I've come to look forward to my early morning scrubs as it's kind of this stream of consciousness or at times sub-consciousness journey that God and I take together, and I'm never really sure how they get started or where they'll end up.

I love when something as simple like washing my baby-drooled-upon shirt can spark a memory from so many years ago. That trip was a pivotal moment in my life as it confirmed in my mind that I was to focus on development through missions and not through governmental programs.
And, after all those years, here I am doing just that.

It makes me wonder what is happening presently that I'll remember 10 years from now and realize it's significance after all that time..

A new thought of God

* I posted this on the Ninos con Valor blog as well, but in case you missed it...


"Every child born into the world is a new thought of God, an ever-fresh and radiant possibility."

Kate Douglas Wiggin

We wish that our first post about Pedacito de Cielo beginning its orphanage phase was filled with lots of fun and rejoicing, but unfortunately, we are already dealing with an emergency situation with one of our little ones. There are lots of great things going on at PDC, and we'll put that in our upcoming newsletter, but please read on about one of our babies who needs all of our help...

On our first day functioning as an orphanage, we received two children, Guillermo and Pablo (pseudonyms to protect their privacy). Both were very happy and adjusted quite well to the routine and enjoyed all the attention that they received from the staff.

Guillermo with our volunteer, Kim, on his first day with us at PDC.

As all of these children coming in have compromised immune systems, we had our friend, Dr. Joe Sherman, come by and review each child’s case file with the staff so that we would understand the individual needs of each child and how to deal with any issues that may arise. We were all very thankful for this information as it helped allay some fears the staff had.

Guillermo and Dr. Joe, during a consultation to review all the new children’s health issues.

The information was especially helpful when dealing with Guillermo’s situation. He was abandoned early on by both his mother and father and then shortly after, his grandparents. He has battled chronic pneumonia and severe malnutrition. Guillermo just turned one year this month, but he is small and underweight for his age (about 16.5lbs/7kgs) due to early neglect as an infant, and also because of a heart condition he has, tetralogy of Fallot. This is a rare congenital defect that causes blood to not be oxygenated properly (click here to find out more). There is a connection between alcohol and drug consumption during pregnancy and tetralogy of Fallot, and since Guillermo was originally found lying on the street next his passed out mother, this is a definite possibility.

On Sunday, Guillermo started turning blue, which can happen with those with his condition, so we brought him to the hospital so he could be put on oxygen. He had just left the hospital after having been in for four months battling pneumonia, so we were very sad to have to put him back in, but his blood oxygen levels were dangerously low, compounded with a severe infection. He is doing better now, but is in poor spirits as he’s very bored and uncomfortable, because of the oxygen tubes and IV line in his foot. We have round the clock staff caring for him in the hospital, trying to keep him happy and distracted, but it’s a difficult task.

Baby Guillermo his third day in the hospital on oxygen.

Guillermo is in desperate need of surgery. We knew this was going to be a reality for him, but we didn’t think it was going to be quite so soon. Because he is so underweight, we wanted to get his weight up, and then plan for the surgery, but after several consults, we’ve been advised that the risks of operating on him sooner outweigh the risks of waiting for him to gain the weight.

While we are looking into several charities that provide services at a lower rate, there are long waiting lists for these, and we do not have that kind of time. We’ve been advised that the costs will be at least $5000 for this surgery. This is an extraordinary cost here in Bolivia, but as we are working with the best cardiology department in the country, and this is a very rare surgery, we knew that the costs were going to be high. The government has already stated that the universal healthcare for children under 5 will not cover the surgery, so we must cover the costs.

We are inviting you, as a part of the Niños con Valor community, to join us in helping this precious little child. Here’s how you can help:

• Guillermo needs your prayers. He needs healing, strength, and comfort.
• We need your prayers for wisdom as we make decisions along with the doctors and for strength as we provide 24hr. care for him while he’s in the hospital.
• Let us know if you have any contacts with cardiologists or charities that could help with this situation.
• Donate directly to his medical costs. We need to raise a minimum of $5000 to cover the surgery and post-operative care. Click here to donate on our website.
  

...I spent Tuesday with him in the hospital and it was so heartbreaking to not be able to alleviate his discomfort. Even though he's very sick, he's a fighter, and we had numerous battles as he continuously tried to rip out his oxygen tubes, and then would scream when I had to put them back in. His iv line in his foot is also very painful, and the nurses at the hospital were not exactly the most delicate.

I can't wait for him to come home from the hospital so we can get him even stronger and healthier. It's a good hospital, but he's bored out of his mind, and we can't walk around with him or do much with him because he's all hooked up and there always seems to be a nurse coming in to do something just as he's falling asleep.

I keep praying for a miraculous healing so that he won't have to go through all of this, but until God sees fit to do so, we're moving ahead with the plans for the surgery, as well as raising the money so if you can help out, or know somebody who can, please write me and let me know!

Ask Kimber: Response 1

Reeinbolivia, I would say that you cooked it too long or at too high a temperature. You'd do well to buy a candy thermometer to make sure that you're heating the toffee to the right temperature, if it goes to high, the sugar will caramelize and start to harden. Hope that helps!:)

Not Yet Faithfulness

From an earlier post, but still true...



She remained on the outside of our little group, just close enough to hear the conversation, just far enough away to not have to interact with anyone. She stood out from the others in their dirty jeans and sweatshirts with her bright pink outfit. We didn’t recognize her as part of the usual group of cleferos who hangs out in front of the bus terminal. She looked about 14 or 15, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.

We headed down to the bus terminal area last night despite rumors that the police were doing sweeps to clean things up for the people coming in to celebrate Urkupiña, and while there were fewer than normal, there were some from the usual crowd. We’re continuing to build relationships and trust with mostly the girls, a long slow, often seemingly fruitless, process. There’s a few who want us to help them be able to visit their children who are in state care. In the most caring, but truthful way, we try and tell them what would need to change in order for that to be even a remote possibility. They don’t seem to consider what kind of memories they would be creating for their young children if they were to see their mothers the way we were seeing them last night… stumbling, slurring, giddy with laughter, then despondent, deadened to reality. Of course we’ll try and do what we can, but it ultimately rests in their willingness to respond to the help being offered.

The girl had moved to the other side of the ATM machine (I could still see her pink pant leg) and was chatting with one of the less flamboyant transvestites selling sweets and cigarettes. One of the several men we had spotted trolling the area approached her, he already lewdly had his belt undone, and a few moments later, they passed us heading off to wherever she would earn her next few bottles of glue.

It takes a lot to shock me, which is probably why I’m able to do the work I do without losing my mind. I’m never surprised at the level of depravity of which humans are capable. However, I remain thankful that while I may not be surprised, I continue to be disgusted and outraged and motivated to keep fighting against these injustices experienced every day by these street kids.

It’s heart-wrenching and infuriating that in the moment there’s nothing I can do. Vigilante justice is common here, and sometimes I honestly rejoice with them for hog-tying and dragging men through the streets when they’re caught having sex with a child. My housemate and co-worker were talking about last night’s incident, and remembering what Jesus had to say about those who cause children to sin. At that point, we would have been more than happy to haul the stone and buy the rope to tie around his neck. Or at the very least, I wish I had brought more than bus fare to make it worth her while to not sell herself, even if it meant I was buying her the glue for the night. I’d have felt better about that than knowing what she did instead. But justice, in whatever form, is all too uncommon here.

So, now I’ve got this fancy title, Director of Communications and Development. We always laugh about our titles; there’s four of us in administrative positions, so our “role and function” that Americans are so hyper-concerned about get blurred a lot down here. I spend a lot of my time looking for the elusive grant we might be eligible for, but usually we’re not, so I keep searching. It can be discouraging and frustrating, and quite frankly annoying, when I’m looking for funding to provide programs that are so desperately needed, and instead of finding people who want to provide safe nurturing environments for street girls or children with HIV/AIDS, I find plenty of funding for community improvement projects like gardens and improved signage. Those things are nice, but it’s hard seeing that knowing what that $10,000 could do here.

Although we joke at our titles, I do take it seriously in that I want to be able to communicate, to give voice to those who don’t have one, to tell of the ones to whom nobody will listen. Lamentations 2:11 says, “My eyes fail from weeping, I am in torment within, my heart is poured out on the ground because my people are destroyed, because children and infants faint in the streets of the city.” I’ve seen the children passed out on the street. I’ve seen the baby who died of something as preventable as diarrhea, lying in its small white coffin, learning that his mother carried him on her back, dead, searching for a place that would take them in.

Recently, in my studies, the faithfulness of God has struck me anew. It would be easy to throw my hands up or rather shake my fists at the sky and cry out “Where are You!?” I often forget that God works outside of our timeline. I had to wait a long time before He made it possible for me to be down here, but looking back I can see how it all fit together better than I could have ever planned it myself. “The LORD works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed” (Psalm 103:6), but He also says, “…If it seems slow, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed.” (Habakkuk 2:3b). So in the meantime I’m not going to remain quiet. I will continue to “Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless, maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed.” (Psalm 82:3), and also continue to believe that God is forever faithful, believing that eventually all the abuses heaped upon these children will be accounted for and justice will be accomplished in their lives.

Dream Stealers

I wrote this a while back...something to keep you occupied while I get up to speed on my blogging.

“Don’t let anything steal your dream”

As I sat in my taxi, waiting at the light, this statement on the dirty tattered t-shirt of the street boy who was washing the windshield caught my eye. This slogan was written in a circle around the familiar image, for Americans, of an eagle clutching an olive branch in its beak. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I’m sure he had no idea what the shirt said, which made the bitter irony of the sight all the more striking.

This particular boy is one of the children living in a tunnel for run-off during the rainy season. Some of our staff have built relationships with the window-washers and the other children that live in the tunnel. I live near the rotunda where they work, and it’s been an interesting process to watch as they have moved from punk kids with dirty rags to thoughtful entrepreneurs, upgrading to actual squeegees and water, and working different areas as the traffic patterns change. Honestly, sometimes they’re still punks, but then again, they’re teenage boys with no positive parental guidance, so can you really blame them?

We’ve asked the street kids we work with what their dreams are, what their plans are for the future. They often times draw a blank, shrug their shoulders and change the subject. Some may respond “I want to play professional soccer” or “I’d like to be a hairdresser”. Even if they do have a hope for the future, they can’t see how to get there from where they are now.

How can someone steal something that never existed in the first place? It seems almost beyond comprehension that a child could grow up not dreaming of becoming something, of doing something incredible, whether it be feasible or not (be honest, how many of us wanted to be a superhero at some point in our childhood, not for some deep psychological reason, just because it would be totally awesome?!). I’m not sure if it’s a product of extreme poverty (whether in an intact family or living on the streets), lack of exposure to the possibilities, or whether these children have had their dreams crushed so many times, that they’ve just given up thinking that their lives could be any different.

Regardless of the circumstances leading to their often hopeless outlook for the futures, we seek to either restore hope or bring hope to them for the first time. At first, I felt like such a silly gringo, being frustrated with the fact that these kids didn’t have dreams, didn’t have a belief that they could be something besides a glue-sniffing street kid, the bottom rung of society.

Then I realized this wasn’t some ‘American dream’ transference issue, but rather based on what God says to each one of us, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11) Truthfully, it’s a lot easier to believe this verse when you’re living in a comfy home, with a comfy job or going to a good school, when having enough food isn’t an issue, or when your life isn’t full of rejection and violence. It is true for all, nevertheless, although maybe harder for some to realize than others.

I’ve had to adjust my expectations, my hopes for them. It was hard for me to accept that, at least for now, one of our girls dream-come-true opportunities was to sell anticuchos (thinly sliced and grilled beef heart served with potatoes and peanut sauce) along the road by the university near her home. I do realize now that for her, it established a sense of pride, ownership, and acheivement, and that’s huge for a girl who spent 9 years living on the streets. For her to be able to provide a home and food for her young son, is a monumental step for her, and I don’t want my westernized thought process to diminish this major accomplishment in her life.

For those children who haven’t yet realized their potential, their value, their purpose, we’ve got a monumental task ahead of us to help them recognize just how awesome they are. Sometimes they crack us up, other times they bring us to tears, and there are those times we want to wring their necks, but we keep going, we keep hanging out, we keep searching for these kids, because you just never know when it’s going to ‘that time’, that one encounter where they finally get it, where something you might have said a million times before finally gets through the haze of glue, the pangs of hunger, the layers of dirt, and they are able to believe they matter to this world, that there’s something better for them, and that there truly are people who want to help them reach that potential, with no desire for anything in return.