Sorry for the pause in blogger world. We've been a bit under the weather (which, by the way, was quite warm for the winter!) and running around a lot. We've been battling stomach bugs and fevers and hoarse, sore throats, and running around to get Hollie prepared to leave. Caroline and I are spending the day in bed recuperating, so I'm taking this opportunity for a quick update. I hear the soccer game on downstairs, but it doesn't sound like we've scored a goal yet. Uh-oh.

The World Cup games are in full-swing, and we've been showing each Paraguayan game on the big screen. We were in Asuncion running errands (ie-taking Hollie to the zoo and filling Ken's medicine) when the USA played Saturday. It was lunch time, and we were in the food court of the mall. When the game started, the mall man turned up all the tv's in the food court (the world stops for soccer) and everyone turned to start watching. Lo and behold, the national anthem of our beloved country begins, and what's a girl to do? To the horror of my younger, easily embarrassed daughter, our table stands and sings along. Even Milciades, our Paraguayan friend, stood and smiled, even though he didn't know the words. There were random people standing, and I think a few may have been Americans also. Not sure, but it doesn't matter, I explained to the blushing daughter reluctantly standing beside me. This is what we do when the national anthem is played, no matter where we are. "...and the home of the brave," followed by our clapping and cheers. It was a great moment of patriotism, which is much more alive in Paraguay than it is in our own country, unfortunately. I began a rant on how it's become politically incorrect in the United States to love your own country, because we're taught a WORLD VIEW at the expense of pride in our heritage, our history. It's a concept hard to understand for South Americans, who have a fierce loyalty for their home country and a strong national identity. It's a sad realization that I understood a bit living in the US, but even more now on the outside looking in. But you didn't come here to read my political views....

Heather and Hollie, the SuperInterns, are heading back home tomorrow. We had a going-away party for Hollie here this past Friday night, and Heather came from her post in Itaugua to share in the fun. They will be living in Tennessee again two days from now, and we'll be learning to use the camera again because our personal paparazzi has gone home. :)

A few pictures from the last week to let you in on the fun:

Oscar accompanied us to Bible class at the elementary school, and taught some songs to the kids. He's up front holding a guitar, beside Saul who is in front of the chalkboard with his arms spread. (They were singing, "God's love is so wide that I can't get outside of it...")

This little guy was so serious when we were closing the class in prayer. He repeated every phrase with his eyes closed tightly, and making little fists like a preacher does.

Lowering the flag when the school day was done

Face painting while we watched the game


These fellas brought Hollie a flag for her going away present.

Yesterday before teaching English class, I attended the rezo (RAY soe) of my neighbor. I never met her, but she's a woman who died one year ago, just before we moved to this neighborhood. Her children and her husband are our friends.

On the six-month and one-year anniversary of a death, and then every year thereafter, the family hosts a rezo every day for nine days straight. Rezo comes from rezar, the verb that means "to pray." But not like prayer where someone talks with God conversation-style. This is the recitation of specific prayers in a specific form and order. Some people choose to wear black (grieving) clothes until the one-year anniversary, especially if the deceased was a close family member such as a parent, child, or grandparent.

So at this particular rezo, neighbors and family members dropped by around 4:30, to stand around a large altar in the living room covered with candles, flowers, and a photo of the deceased. One woman began the prayers to the Virgin Mary, which were repeated many times in a row, interspersed with a few "Our Father who art in Heaven" and some others I didn't recognize.

In the most repeated prayer, the folks asked Mary to intercede for them on behalf of their sins, now and at the moment of death. They blessed her and the fruit of her womb (Jesus....) One of the last prayers was repeated several times, and it asked Mary to intercede for the deceased woman. After the prayer recitations (I'd say about 40 minutes of them), they sang a song about a mother's presence in the home, which of course brought tears to her teen-aged and early 20's children.

As soon as the song was done, the visitors (the neighbors and I) sat in plastic lawn chairs that are rented for occasions such as this, and the family came around with a platter of cookies and candy. The guests take a few and then go home. In this culture, the family SERVES, whereas we're used to the family BEING SERVED at a memorial service. I find it a little sad that the family re-lives the sadness of what amounts to a wake, or as we'd call it, a settin' up, for 9 days on this anniversary. They told me they view it as a way to honor their loved one, and to further her chances of arriving in Heaven by asking Mary to plead on her behalf. Another thing I found sad was that in this system, even by observing all the traditions and requirements, one can never know if their family member has gained enough "saving grace" to make it in. The words of this song were ringing through my head as I spoke with them...

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
born of his Spirit, washed in his blood.

We're so glad to have rounded the corner on the cold/flu hit last week, because this weekend was jam-packed with lots of great activities. Friday we enjoyed the day at the school, having Bible classes and playing soccer with the kids. That evening, our pals from Itaugua came over and one car was full of youth from their neck of the woods. We had 38 in total for our Friday night youth club, which included a movie, an UNO tournament, and an acoustic sing-along. Ken's Saturday morning pancakes have become famous now, so we had one who slept over for the pancake breakfast the next morning.

Saturday evening we attended a youth event in the nearby town, Acahay, hosted by a group that includes a couple of our "regulars" in the youth club. Several Christian musical groups performed, as well as some drama teams and an evangelist. It was great fun not only to participate, but to see these kids we consider family, taking leadership roles, performing on stage, and fulfilling the Great Commission in their own way. Thank God for growth!

Sunday, the Hora Feliz was loads of fun, as always. The young ladies' Bible study group afterward finished the "Lies Young Women Believe and the Truth that Sets Them Free" book by going over the key scriptures that combat the lies of the enemy in our lives. We had one brand new gal today, so it was a good time to review. All took home a bookmark with the lies and their corresponding scriptures. Phwew! Now we're going to take a deep breath before Paraguay plays in the World Cup tomorrow, in South Africa. No, we aren't heading there, but we'll be opening the doors and showing it on the big screen, with popcorn and juice. Hope your weekend was equally fulfilling!

After our border drama (see previous post), we were excited to arrive at Norberto, Julie, and Timmy's home to deliver the blankets they'd bought and have lunch together. They are currently hosting two interns, Zach and David, so we met them and heard about their adventures in mission-land. Julie and Norberto had prepared quite a feast for us, and we REALLY enjoyed the fellowship and the meal. We spent a couple of hours (not nearly as long as we'd have liked) hanging out there, then rushed off to the ruins before the sun went down. I'm not sure how we got that sunray on Julie's face for the photo, but she is a ray of sunshine anyway. The little fellow in between me and the Kurrle's son Timmy, is their neighbor, Fabian.

The Jesuit ruins in eastern Paraguay are quite spectacular. We visited the Trinidad Mission in Itapua. Thousands of natives lived in these communities that the Jesuit priests operated, and there they escaped slavery while learning to read and write, to farm, and to live in a community. We were so impressed by the size of the buildings and the beautiful statues and carvings. Many of the statues were missing heads, which, rumor has it, were stolen to be sold, some of them on eBay. The sun was going down as we arrived, so we had spectacular views. I guess you know that sunsets in Paraguay can't be equaled.

(SIDENOTE: My one-sentence description of the rich history surrounding the Jesuit Missions doesn't even begin to do the story justice. I recommend the movie The Mission with Robert DeNiro, which I found too bloody for the kids, by the way. The actual account of how these brave priests protected and cared for the natives, often to the point of giving their own lives, is really spectacular.)

Monday was a nice day to travel. After a cold, wet weekend, everyone was a bit stir-crazy. The sun came out and the temperatures climbed up into the high 60's. I ignored the fact that it seemed the cold I'd been avoided had passed through the whole house and landed on me that morning, because we were ON THE ROAD! I love road trips!

We planned to pack a whole lot of activities in one day. First we wanted to cross into Argentina and show Hollie around the city of Posadas. (Okay, I must admit that there is a store there that sells Milky Way, and that came into play....) Then we planned to visit our friends, the Kurrle family, who live about 30 minutes from the border, and deliver some of the blankets they bought from Carapegua to give to needy families in their neighborhood. After that, we planned to see the Jesuit ruins that are about 15 minutes from the Kurrle home. A full day, and when you factor in the 3-4 hour drive one-way from our house to theirs, we were starting to think we might not fit it all in and be back before midnight.

So with lots of nose-blowing supplies and a bag of snacks, we made for the Argentinian border. We had a hard time convincing the Paraguayan side to let us leave, as they had lots of questions about Hollie's passport and Visa. Her papers were all in order, but we've heard they get sticky at the border and sometimes try to talk you into paying some sort of fine. We were finally allowed to exit Paraguay, after much convincing, and we crossed the long bridge over the Parana River.

On the other side of the bridge awaited the border patrol of Argentina. They checked over our paperwork, let us through the first stop, and then inspected our car. This is routine, and they do it to every car, so we weren't surprised. What happened next was a bit of a surprise, though. Keep in mind that in our car were Ken and Saul up front, Hollie, Camille, and I in the back, and Caroline crammed into the third row with all our cargo. So we were definitely a family on a family trip. HOWEVER, we looked a bit suspicious to the border man, who wanted to know why we had blankets. I told him the whole story, but he didn't believe me and got really ugly about it. I kept my smile and chatted it with him for a while, as he defused a little and began to believe our story, I think. He finally said we'd have to go back to Paraguay to leave the blankets because it seemed that we were merchants coming into their country to sell Paraguayan blankets. At least they didn't confiscate them, which does happen. By then, we'd already used up all the time we'd allotted for sightseeing in Posadas, Argentina.

So we whipped a U-turn, went back through customs and border patrol in Argentina AND Paraguay, explained to the Paraguay side why we were only there for less than an hour, and were on our way. We chalked that one up to God knowing what was best for us and tried not to be disappointed about the Milky Ways. ;)

What a treat to arrive about a half-hour later at the home of the Kurrle family, but I'll save that for another post. Check back soon!

My mom and step-dad came for a visit last week, and we had a great time spending a SHORT visit with them. They only had a few days here since they're in the process of building a house and both have jobs, but we enjoyed those days a ton. My little neighbor Paola thought that, because I introduced them as "the grandparents," they were HER grandparents, so they went home with one more granddaughter than they came with!

My mom brought some goodies from various folks (thank you!) and one of those goodies was an envelope with $13 inside, from the children and youth of Wrenn's Chapel Church of God of Prophecy. We wanted to do something specific for the kids here with this money, and found a grocery store in the capital with little gloves on sale. I figured up how many children were in the local school, determined we could buy them all a pair at that price, and we stopped by the store the next time we were in town. Unfortunately, the advertised gloves turned out to be baby sized and there were only 7 left. Okay, maybe no gloves.

That same week, when we went for Friday Bible class, I noticed one little girl sitting at her desk while the others played. She wasn't wearing shoes. It's quite chilly here and had been raining for several days before, so I asked her if her shoes had gotten wet. She told me she'd loaned them to her cousin so that the cousin could play. I sat the two gals side-by-side, and found out that the too big, worn-out, broken pair of flip-flops being shared between these two little girls actually belonged to an aunt, and the girls borrowed them to walk to school daily. I know where these girls live, and it's a LONG walk.

When recess ended and they gathered inside for the Bible class, Saul began to teach and I jumped in the car to run to town. I thought about the offering in the envelope on the way, and before the school day ended, the Wrenn's Chapel kids had bought two precious little girls a pair of socks and a pair of tennis shoes each.

I know the church the money came from, and some of those young folks there are my extended family. It's a small church in a tiny community, not far from where I grew up. Something strange is that one of the little girls who received the shoes actually looks just like my cousin's daughters, who happen to be part of the group that sent the money. I've said a million times how that little Paraguayan girl could fit right in and no one would know she wasn't blood-related. And in God's funny little ways, He connected them. Thank you, kids, for bringing in your change and making a big difference in the everyday lives of these two gals and their families.