Today was my first class in Guarani, my first formal class. I've been a student of this language since it grabbed me in it's clutches and made me an addict a couple of years ago, but today I grabbed back and gave it a little shake. I'm so excited about these next three weeks and all that's gonna "click into place" and open the door to easier conversing with my neighbors.

I know very well that this is where I am supposed to be, not only because I've been trying to study there since I found out about the Institute two years ago, but also because it's been a "lucha" (struggle) since putting the date on the calendar. It's almost become funny, now, though, to see it unfold.

Take this morning for example. In the almost 27 months that we've been in Paraguay, I've played with more stomach viruses and yuckies than I care to count. But never once in that time did I actually vomit. There were days I begged to, but vomiting is reserved for pregnancies and labors in my book. I'm pretty sure it's been since Caroline's birth that I've vomited. I simply don't do it. I've eaten bad stuff and drunk bad water and picked up little bugs going around, but no vomiting allowed. This morning, I opened a fresh bottle of vitamins, which had an odd odor. Something told me I might oughta wait on taking one from this batch until further investigation, but a good girl takes her vitamins every day. I took it, and it started screaming from the time it hit my throat.

About 15 minutes later, just before climbing on the back of the motorcycle, I took to a vomiting fit. I was standing over the toilet saying, "I'm going to this class if I have to vomit in my helmet." (I know, I know, you didn't really want to know what I said in between blaps, did you?) I took some anti-nausea, took off on the moto, and prayed all the way to the end of the asphalt that God would help me not get sick again.

Then we came to the end of the asphalt. I must tell you that the drive to Escobar is spectacular, with rolling hills, rocky cliffs, and long panoramic views off into the distance. Even when we went off-road and started on the sandy/muddy dirt, I couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful God's handiwork is--every chance I could peel my eyes off the dirt and look up. (I am still really gun-shy on riding through deep sand like that after the three motorcycle falls I had last year, since all took place in sand.) Saul drove like a champ, though. We crossed a few streams, rode up a really steep area where the path was covered in big rocks, and even made it through some sticky spots. I just kept gripping that cargo rack behind my seat as tight as I could.

The class was just terrific. My fellow students are the Rayburns, a young couple with 2 1/2 little ones, in Paraguay since about the same time as us. They have been working with an indigenous group in the south. I can't wait to learn more about what all that entails, but for today, we did some reviewing and work to see where we all are in the learning process. It's so cool to hear the language I've been wrestling with explained in English, and to be able to ask questions and get feedback. It's intimidating, but I love it and intimidating has never been a deterrent to me. We ate a lovely lunch prepared by Andy's wife, and ended in time for me to walk part of the way back down the hill to meet Saul (no sense in tempting fate on riding that moto DOWN the hill, right?)

I had a dentist appointment today in the town nearby, so we went straight there. I sat in a very full waiting room (no appointments here, just show up and get in line) for a while, until the dentist poked her head out to say that her equipment was broken and it'd be late tonight before the repairman could fix it.

We jumped on the motorcycle just in time to notice a storm in the distance. We thought we could outrun it, but just in case, I tucked my cell phone deep in the backpack, which always travels between me and Saul. We got on the nice long stretch of highway were there are only field and cows on both sides, when the wind picked up and the rain started. Nowhere to hide. We rode and rode and rode through a really strong storm. I tucked that backpack in and tried to wrap my jacket around it, but it was catching the rain off the back of Saul's helmet and the front of mine. It was saturated. I prayed a little for our safety and then a whole lot for my trusty language learning books, two of which I'd just gotten today. Thank God, my phone was dry and only one of the books got wet, very minimally. Miracle. The backpack is not waterproof, and I was just wringing the water out of it.

By the time we got home, completely soaked and worn out, I was ready for a nap. I climbed into dry pj's and crashed. The girls told me all about how fun it is to homeschool with Daddy, who also cooked some gourmet meals today. He's gonna run me out of my spot! Now for a bit of homework, and I'm prepping for the adventure that begins again tomorrow. I'm counting on a less eventful day, and still holding out hope that our auto gets out of the shop soon. :)

This is Ken with our friend, Atilio, who lives here in Carapegua. We met him and his family when I started teaching English to his wife and her sister last year. Since then, we've become great friends. They treat us like family and we've shared some really fun times together.

Atilio is a dentist by day, but in his spare time he races his 4-wheeler. He won this particular trophy while Ken was in for his heart surgery, so he dedicated the win to Ken and posted a lovely photo to that effect on facebook. When we arrived back in Carapegua, they came by to drop off some pizzas for us (the equivalent of taking by a casserole when someone's been sick). They were surprised to see Ken up and moving around, so they stuck around and visited for a while, much to our delight. Well, while we were digging into the pizza, Atilio pulled out the trophy and presented it to Ken. We weren't expecting that. Sweet gesture, huh? It now occupies a spot near our table, and Ken shows it to all who come by.

We also had various folks drop by for Camille's birthday, and to see if Ken really is alive and kicking. Everyone's surprised to see how well he's getting around. Except for having to be careful about lifting/pushing/pulling, and not overdoing it in the heat, he looks very "normal". His color is back and he's able to walk around, get up and down, and even handle the stairs. He has to retire to his chair periodically, but last night, we walked to the plaza and visited with neighbors a bit. We thank the Lord for His hand on our family and for sending us friends here in Paraguay, and really appreciate the relationships we've been blessed with.

I am very, very excited that next week, if all goes well, I'll be starting intensive Guarani classes for the following three weeks. Actually, they are classes in Jopara, which is the what you call the mixture of Spanish with Guarani (kind of like Spanglish), and is what is actually spoken here in Paraguay. Pure Guarani is taught in the schools but not spoken on the streets.

This class will take place at the Guarani-Jopara Institute for Missionaries in a nearby town. I will be learning from an American born in Kenya who studied in British schools, married a Bolivian, and lives in Paraguay. Thank God he'll be teaching in ENGLISH! And his beautiful wife is due with their third child soon, so I'm praying she makes it till the class finishes! I'm a bit nervous because my two classmates have studied before and have been speaking Guarani for a while now. I'm, of course, quite the beginner. My plan was to step up my studying in my spare time this week, but there hasn't actually been any yet.

This morning, I went to the dentist. I've been needing to go since Ken was in the hospital, but that wasn't convenient in the least. And then we didn't have transportation, and then Camille was really sick, and then this and that. Today is the first free day when it was possible to go, so I hurried over once all were settled this morning and starting their schoolwork, and explained that I had an area of my mouth that's really been painful. It turns out the pain is just radiating from one tooth, which is my back molar. The dentist, who happens to be a great friend of ours, said I'll have to see a specialist pretty soon, for a root canal--called a conducto here. In Paraguay, a root canal is a three day process. Have I mentioned that I am a special case, and where your nerves divide into roots (I'm probably using all the wrong terms here, but follow me), mine actually divide and then divide again. So I have double the number of those aggravating little guys to fix in each tooth. I've never been one to just do things the easy way, it seems.

So as soon as Saul comes back from running errands for us on the motorcycle, I'll be putting on my helmet and hunting down the nearest endodontist (one town away, I think) to make plans for this dental work. I am hoping she can work me in this week so that I don't have to learn Guarani while nursing an achy tooth next week. We are also still praying about and hunting down used cars, and Camille is still pretty ill. It's a busy week. (SIDENOTE: Ken is good today, only resting from the stress of riding alongside me as I drove all over Asuncion yesterday, and Caroline is also good.) As always, your prayers are much appreciated.

I guess I could have more aptly named this post Planes, Buses, and Automobiles based on our travels the past few months. This is an update, however, on the automobile situation. We have currently been without ours for almost 2 months. We returned to Carapegua last week and walked to our mechanic's shop first thing that next morning. Ken saved up his energy so he could walk with me, wanting to hear the "man words" first hand.

It turns out that the small item we thought we were having repaired was only the beginning, and when that part was replaced, the mechanic could hear the other problem more clearly. The good news is that this is the motor that this same mechanic recently rebuilt, so it should be still under warranty. The bad news is that things don't happen quickly here, and a total tear-down to find the problem could turn this into an even longer wait to get our car back.

We've also still been dealing with the paperwork. We've been driving this car for 2 years and 2 months, and have fought that whole time to obtain the title that supposedly was clear the day we bought it. The judicial system, namely the judges, take the month of January off for yearly vacation, and it seems our lawyer has decided to do the same. We were told that our paperwork (the actual title of ownership of the car) would be ready before we left on furlough in September, but not so. With all the mechanical problems we've had with this car, we'd really like to sell it and start over, knowing much better how to buy a car in Paraguay this time around. Without owning it, though, we can't sell it.

This is the second time that we've been more than a month without use of the car because of repairs. Buses are okay at times, but in some cases, they just aren't practical. Such as when one is recovering from open-heart surgery. In said condition, one does not want to enter a bus and be stuck standing up for hours, holding to an overhead bar, being jerked around by the movements of the bus and pushed and pulled by other passengers. Obviously, this is a really bad time to be without our own transportation.

We have seriously considered buying a second, very small, very economical, older car to have as back-up, and also to use on trips where gas is an issue. Gas is pretty pricey here (about $4/gal), and many times we could get by in a small car. Okay, I know, stuffing us tall folks into a little car may be tricky, but for the dollar, it could be done. We'd still need the SUV, since lots of our church/school/home visits are down long, nasty dirt roads that flood out really easily. Four-wheel drive has saved us more than once. But for jaunts around town or drives into the city, we'd be fine in a small car.

That brings me, once again, to a plea for prayer. We are people who don't want debt. We've lived most of our adult lives avoiding it at all costs, no pun intended. We had to enter into debt when the insurance company refused to pay for Ken's surgery, and it makes me a bit gun-shy over purchases. And here in a world so "foreign" to us still, where we don't know what will happen financially one month to the next, decisions that should be simple take on a whole new dimension.

Tomorrow, a friend is loaning us her car so that we can refill medicines, run errands, and hopefully look at some used cars in Asuncion. Please remember us in prayer, that God will give us wisdom, guidance, and provision for this need, and that if this is His plan for us, that we will clearly know it and carry it out without nervousness or trouble along the way. We don't want to get into any more legal issues or mechanical problems, or to spend money that we should save instead, and we know none of these is too hard for God to arrange.

Today we celebrate Camille's life with Paraguayan cake, American icing (woo hoo!), and what has become a family tradition here--homemade pizza. As I type this, the oven is cranked up, the storms have passed, and the electricity is back on. Camille's still not feeling well and all the medicines she's taking have put a damper on her appetite, but even so, she's requesting pizza and cake.

It has only been a few short years since I first gave birth to a roly-poly, cholicky baby girl. Well, it seems that way, but it's really been 14 years. She's thinned out and is much less cholicky now--ha, ha. She was a strong-willed gal from the start, who didn't want to be bothered with learning to crawl, and learned to talk way before she walked. She has been putting her leadership tendencies to use from the get-go. Now that she's a teenager, it's fun to think back to parts of her personality that we could watch developing even as a baby. She's still a talker, which helped her pick up Spanish really quickly and make friends wherever we are. Camille thinks a lot and is very sensitive to people's moods and feelings. She doesn't like to see anyone left out and is quite skilled in the art of hospitality. She is a huge blessing to our family, and we're so glad God saw fit to send her our way.

A couple of days ago, we arrived back in Carapegua, back under our own roof. We had a great time hanging with the Mortons this past month and sure do appreciate their hospitality, but it was good to get back "home" after living from suitcases for basically the past three months. We found everything in order here and were greeted by neighbors right away.

A 4-year old boy and 5-year-old girl yelled to me from the street, so I went out to greet them not long after we arrived. They told us they'd been saying prayers for Ken and wanted to know some of the gory details of the surgery and scars. We had a nice long conversation about God and how He looks out for us, with them nodding their heads in agreement with me, as if they were taking in some profound truths and coming up with their own observations. I wished I could have videoed them without breaking the moment. It's amazing how God can be so complicated that we'll never fully understand Him or His ways, but also so simple that the youngest child can grasp His love.

We are preparing for visitors later this evening, when we'll be feasting on a batch of chocolate chip cookies I just made. I checked and double-checked all the ingredients to be sure there were no bichos (bugs/worms) this time, and it was green light all the way.

Ken is resting upstairs in his recliner and trying to get in the doctor-ordered walks each day, as the heat permits. Camille is getting over bronchitis/ear infections/sinus infection a little more slowly than we'd prefer, but she's coming along. That leaves Caroline to help out a little more than usual with the housework, but she's a trooper. It seems there is light at the end of this tunnel and we will be normal again. Well, as close to normal as we've ever been. ;)

This past week I've reacquainted myself with the world of buses. I've been taking them back and forth from the capital area to our home all along, but the inner city ones are those I typically avoid at all costs. A few errands couldn't wait, though, and the mechanic is still "working on" our car, so I enjoyed some bus hopping several days this week.

Public transportation here is a culture all of it's own. There are buses that run different routes, so one must either know the number of the bus that passes the desired destination, or read all the little signs on the front window as the bus approaches the stop. The catch is that you have to read them in time to realize this is your bus and flag it down.

Flagging the bus is quite simple, as one merely straightens his arm at a 45 degree angle or 2:00 (as if pointing to a passing airplane or cloud), and points the index finger straight out. If you don't do this, the bus speeds past the stop and you are stuck waiting a bit longer for the next one.

Of course, within a big city like Asuncion, there are many different ways to arrive from Point A to Point B. This makes for some confusion if it SEEMS the bus should pass by your destination but the bus actually takes some crazy route. This has happened to me more times than I care to admit. I am getting better at it, though, and hardly ever jump the wrong bus these days. I have learned to ask the driver--even if the sign clearly states what I want to know--if he'll pass where I want to be, and MOST TIMES, they tell the truth. I've been warned that they will all say yes to practically any question, but I've had one or two tell me to wait for another bus and let me get off theirs before I pay.

Once on, you will probably be standing until someone else gets up. You can hold the rails on the backs of the seats, where a headrest would normally be, or the overhead bars, as you stand. The frequent starts, stops, speed bumps, almost-wrecks, and lane changes mean that you'll be slung around and someone will probably crash into you at least once, but really, the locals are born with their "bus feet," it seems, and they don't lose their balance nearly as much as I do.

There are signs posted all over the inside of the bus advertising the rates and telling you that you cannot be charged more than that, but this is often ignored. I've learned to ask a fellow rider at the bus stop and that have that exact change ready when I board. I'd been overcharged way too many times before learning that trick. There are also signs that tell you to allow older folks, pregnant women, disabled people, or women with small children, to have your seat. However, it's sad how seldom this rule is observed. Men do get up for women with babies, in my experience, but nothing burns me up more than a bus full of young men sitting down while an 80-yr-old grandma bounces around the bus because she has no seat. And when I get up to offer my seat, the older people look so shocked and thank me like I've just given them a new ox. It's probably the same shocked look I shoot at the men still in their seats around us.

Other signs state the maximum capacity and that this cannot be exceeded for any reason. However (you knew there'd be a HOWEVER, didn't you?), I'm told that on long rides, anyone over the maximum limit doesn't have to be counted, thus the driver and his helper can pocket their fares. Needless to say, we pack in like cattle (that's the Paraguayan term for it) on the long rides, and no matter how many folks are standing as tight as possible, there's always room for more at the next stop.

You never know what will happen on the bus, but I've had some great conversations with strangers and met some really nice people. Lots of times people have their hands full with grocery bags or whatever they've just bought from the market, so merely offering a little help starts a conversation. And anything is fair game for carrying. The strangest thing we've ever seen was a sheep who took a long ride in the suitcase compartment under the seats, with his legs bound. I know he was glad to finally get to his stop! If you come for a visit, make sure we throw some bus rides in while you're here. :)

I am typing this from the home of our friends, the Mortons, who live a good bit closer to the hospital and graciously offered their home to us. Despite that I was very reluctant to invade someone else’s home, we’ve been so comfortable here. The shady yard, lack of stairs, and comfy bedrooms were just what the doctor ordered, and we have really enjoyed the chance to spend this much time with our friends.

Before they got back, we took part a traditional Paraguayan Christmas Eve asado meal at the Hogar Ganar homes for abandoned children. Eating at midnight was a little tough for Ken, but he was able to be present for the festivities for a little while, at least. The next day was Christmas with the Martinez family as our guests, complete with hard-to-find turkey I located a couple days before, and some American chocolate sent by Jayne’s family!! Their little fellas loved the Christmas tree, and we enjoyed some traditional holiday fellowship with friends.

We stayed here a week alone while the Mortons were finishing up their furlough, and then welcomed them back to Paraguay on December 31. Their little girl Abi has been a great source of entertainment for Camille and Caroline, as well as a little prayer warrior for Ken and my personal sidekick. Sammy is almost 8 months old, so we’ve enjoyed taking turns holding him. It’s hard not to spoil him with that cute little smile.

Ken is recovering well, able to sleep through the night since we found the recliner. He moves slowly and has to be careful to rest a lot. His system is still out of whack (high bp, high blood sugar, low iron), but those numbers are all improving and it’s totally normal for this stage. It is a bit weird to think of this strong meat-eater as anemic, but his skin is the color of Caroline’s and he gets pretty dizzy, so we believe it. He’s disappointed that he’s not able to walk as he’s supposed to, but he had a nerve swell in his foot and had to restrict walking and get on more medicine to fix it. I think he’ll feel much better when he can be “up and about” a bit more, but for now we are babying the foot and trying not to lament the timing of this nerve flare-up.

Ken has been given the go-ahead to travel back to Carapegua, with his next heart check-up in three weeks. We await our vehicle now, which was supposed to be fixed in “a couple days” but is now closing in on a month in the shop. It’s been a humbling experience to depend on others so much at this time, and something that really makes us appreciate how nice it is to be a part of the family of God. Sometimes the inconveniences also serve as a reminder that He can work in anything.

For example, a few days ago, I left where we are now to take the series of buses and arrive in Carapegua. My hope was that the car would be ready on the promised day (what was I thinking?) and I could just drive it back, and transport our family “home.” It was a crazy trip from the start. Since we’re staying at the end of a LONG dirt road, the buses don’t pass by as often as in the main roads. I had determined to stand out by the road an hour early and just wait, since times are approximate. However, the bus passed by an hour and 15 minutes early, and I couldn’t catch it. SIGH. I began asking neighbors if they knew of a taxi that’d come here, lamenting that the 50 cents for that bus had now become $5.50 for a taxi. The guy was prompt, though, and in true “Christie” form, he began to tell me his life’s story about half-way to our destination.

He shared how he and his wife were separated because she had gone to Europe to work and decided she’d just stay. Their pre-teen daughter didn’t understand why Mom wasn’t coming back. He was having a hard time being both mom and dad and maintaining his 24-hr taxi service. When we got to the end of the road, he was still telling the story, so I hung out long enough to get to a stopping point and tell him that I’d be praying for him and his daughter, and that he shouldn’t give up. He gave me a card with his number and told me to call if I needed a taxi again. Even as I thanked him, I was thinking that this was the first and probably last time I’d be on a Paraguayan taxi. I apologized to the Lord for whining about missing the bus and prayed for this family as I hopped on and off the next few buses to Carapegua.

I’ll bet you already guessed that the car wasn’t ready. I waited till the absolute last minute (so I thought) before starting the trip back on the buses. I missed the second one and had to reroute my plan to make it back to Itaugua, which meant an hour more to the trip than I’d anticipated. By the time I reached the spot where I should have gotten on the last bus, it was too late. Taking a taxi at night isn’t the most recommendable thing, as often the drivers have been drinking. Feeling good about the guy who drove me that morning, I pulled out that business card and within a few minutes, the familiar driver was picking me up again.

He arrived with his daughter in the front seat, and wasted no time in introducing us. He insisted that she sit in the back seat with me so we could talk, and he proceeded to tell me in more detail the problems the young girl was having. I prayed for wisdom and counseled the father and daughter until we arrived at the Morton’s home. Before getting out of the car, I asked if I could pray with them, which they agreed to. I have already spoken to the local pastor here about their situation and feel good about the contact they will make with this struggling family. Now to keep myself reminded that all my days are in His hands, and that missing a bus and waiting on a car aren't the worst things in the world. :)