Yep, Christie is claiming one more year. One more year of getting to live a life I love and be with people I adore and experience a world God planned just for me. Am I blessed or what?

So here's how the day went down. We spent the night before with our pals the Mortons, so that we would be there early to babysit our favorite little rubia, Abi. Her parents needed to attend a very important training session that deals with the homes for abandoned children that they direct, so we were thrilled they entrusted Abi to our care.


We spent the morning checking out the sights near their house, including this rather big lake in Aregua. It was pretty, but I'm disappointed to say that I'll probably never put a toe in this water, which was black and thick. The warm breeze sure was relaxing, though, while I held my breath for the walk down the rickety pier. (Don't tell the Mortons that we took Abi out on that thing....) We had lunch nearby and found a great slice of chocolate cake to top it off.

Abi's parents made it back that evening, so we left in time to attend our friends Silvia and Adolfo's big event. They have been planting a church here in Carapeguá and were ordained as pastors at a lovely ceremony. In the picture below are Ken and some pastors anointing and praying for them. After the closing prayer, I partook of another slice of cake, and then went back for seconds. It's my birthday, right?


Afterward, it was getting a bit late and I thought my big day was over, but some of the youth we work with came by. Then some more came by. Then another group came by. Next thing you know, we had a living room full and they were singing Happy Birthday to me in three languages. See if you can pick them out. Okay, I'll clue you in. The first two verses are Spanish, the next is Guarani, and the fourth is our classic English. I actually got this same presentation twice because some from this group left and another group came in. They had missed the singing and started it all over again. Below is the video of the first version. Around 2 AM, I crawled into bed, thrilled that I got another day, another year. God is good to me.

So just let me say that I have a soft spot for motorcyclists. I grew up on the back (or the gas tank, depending on how many of us were riding) of a Honda, and my first dates with my hubby were on a Suzuki. We've had different makes over the years, and my dad eventually traded his Hondas for the Harleys. Now that we're in Paraguay, motos are EVERYWHERE! Granted, practically all of them are 150cc or less, and they putt putt along on the side of the roads instead of powering through like we're used to, but these toned down versions are an inexpensive mode of transportation for many, many folks here.

Now meet Pastor Remigio. He's a early-40's Paraguayan guy we know from a few towns away, who always seems to be at whatever Christian function we're attending. We've passed him walking or riding his bicycle more times than I can count, either attending pastoral meetings/church services, or visiting his people. A little like the USMail, he's riding that bicycle in rain, cold, sun, snow, or hail. Okay, there's no snow here, but the others come in extremes! We see him walking the bike sometimes because it's too wet or muddy to ride it, or because he has other people with him and they don't all fit on the bicycle. How many times did we say we wished we could buy the guy a motorcycle?

Not too long ago, our buddies Julie and Norberto let us in on a missions program the Christian Motorcyclists Association has in operation. They raise funds to provide needy Christian workers in various countries with motorcycles. Is that a great idea, or WHAT? I can just imagine them now having rallies and such, with people supporting them that will never meet Pastor Remigio or the people blessed by his ministry. So we filled out an application for this pastor, held our breath, and HE WAS SELECTED!

The past couple of weeks, Ken and Saúl have been running around with Pastor Remigio buying this suh-weet motorcycle, getting all the needed paperwork, and helping him get his very first DRIVERS LICENSE! Next week, Saúl is planning to teach him to drive. Lord, help this pastor! We're very excited about the difference the motorcycle will make in the life of this dedicated man of God. Thank you, CMA, for getting this pastor off that bicycle and on something with a little more get-up-and-go!

Driving around Asuncion is always a bit tough for me, because it's so sad to see all the homeless, beggars, and street kids. I have to resist the urge to open the door and grab them up to take them home with us. I thought I'd wax eloquent and share the details, but pictures sometimes speak louder than words. Sorry for the poor quality, but sometimes a cell phone is the quickest thing I can grab....

We meet these little faces when we stop at red-lights or stop signs.

Aren't their smiles just irresistable? We try to give them food instead of money, since most of them are "working" for a nearby, hidden adult. A banana gets a much bigger smile than a coin.

Homeless people living in a park downtown.

This little guy was selling lottery tickets. I'd guess he's about 4-5 years old. He didn't seem homeless to me, but he and a few other little fellas his size were selling lottery tickets in a parking lot. I always try to say a quick prayer for each one, but there are just so many.... Thank you, God, that the closest things to this my children have had to survive are homework and chores. We are so blessed.

Last week the Loma Clavel school celebrated their "birthday." The teacher dropped by our house to invite us to the festivities, and it gave us a chance to talk about how we can be more involved there. We went into detail about weekly Bible classes, and offered to start when we get back from our trip. They'll be starting summer break then, but when the new year starts, we should be set to begin a regular class there. For now, we're trying to visit once a week anyway, so that the children are comfortable with us.

We took the projector and showed the cartoon "Angel Wars" for their birthday party. I'm not sure they understood it because it was all in Spanish, but they were amazed and watched intently. The teacher explained that most of them had not seen a tv, so to have a movie projected on the wall was just fascinating! I got a lot of laughs from my attempts to speak Guarani. Finally Saul took over and presented a nice little object lesson from the cartoon. I guess I have my homework cut out for me and will be spending any available time during our trip home, practicing Guarani. Unfortunately, I don't think any of the neighbors in the U.S. will help me out.

This Friday morning I (Christie) woke up to excruciating pain in my lower right side, and thought I'd vomit. Stomach viruses are way too common here, so I knew just what to do. I got up and walked a few yards to our bathroom. The pain became so intense that I just knew I'd pass out, so I tried to make a noise and alert Ken. He got there just in time to catch me. After a few phone calls and arrangements, we decided we should make the two-hour trip into Asuncion in case it were something serious. The public hospitals here handle serious things, but I wasn't so sure I wanted them to, you know?

I spent that time trying to think of medical vocabulary, and how to pronounce all the words I learned in medical terminology, only with a Spanish accent. By the time we got there, I was in too much pain to tell the ER staff anything. They took me straight to a bed where a doctor began to poke around, said I had all the classic signs of appendicitis, and then explained that the only cure for that is surgery. Ugh. While he was talking, the pain literally just went away. I mean, it was just plain gone. I said that out loud, but I'm not sure any of folks in the room believed me. They had seen me barely able to walk in, unable to talk, and, according to Ken, so white I was almost blue. The doctor jabbed me a lot in the belly again, which was sore, but didn't cause pain. Now everyone was a bit perplexed. Dr. Confused said it could be a stone in my urinary tract (ouch) since the pain was coming and going, but that it really presented just like appendicitis. Either way, he said we'd see it plainly in an ultrasound.

They tried to extract a few tubes of blood from me, but I don't hand that out too freely. I just don't have much, it seems, and what I have is a little thin. So after several attempts by a few different people, they whisked my blood off in one direction to be tested, me off in another for an ultrasound, and Ken off in yet another because here one must pay BEFORE the tests are performed.

The ultrasound lady checked me out thoroughly, and when she pressed that wand over the offending area, I knew it for sure. "That's it! That's what hurt!" She said it was my appendix but that it wasn't horribly inflamed, only a bit. She said I was probably in the beginning stages of appendicitis, but we'd have to wait and see what the doctor in the ER thought after the blood tests came back.

Again, the doctor came and pressed around all on my belly, and I reacted to all the appendicitis tests. He said he expected the blood work to confirm it. Still, the pain did not return. My blood work came back "innocent" and they all stood around scratching their heads.

After conferring with another surgeon and taking more blood, they decided that I was probably in the beginning stages of appendicitis and I'd be more serious within the next 24-hours. He said to expect a fever to set in, and the pain to return with nausea. He promised that when the pain came, we'd do immediate surgery to avoid a rupture and the spread of the infection. I got settled into a room upstairs and hoped that the people who said they pray for us were REALLY praying hard that day.

So we waited. Nothing happened. All evening. Nothing. All night. Peaceful sleep. The next day, they finally let me eat and I got a bit sick, but still no pain. By the afternoon, the doctor sent me home, not having a clue what had happened or why it had just suddenly gone away, but with his personal cell number. He asked us to stay close to town that next night "just in case." So we enjoyed a night with our friends, the Mortons, who had rescued the girls the night before.

I'm back home resting today. Tomorrow we'll head to the capital again to secure a few more things for our trip, and to add the girls and me to Ken's health insurance plan. Lesson learned. So for those of you who were praying with us, for us, thank you. The healing could not have come at a better time. :)