This past week we had the great joy of delivering some Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes. We took them to the little Loma Clavel school out in the boonies near Carapegua. You may remember this place from previous posts, as the little one-room school with a volunteer teacher that comes each afternoon to teach all grades together.

We hadn't gotten to see them this year, but every now and then, the profesora would send me a text message to say that the children were praying for me in their daily prayers, and that they kept asking when we'd return. So we just couldn't wait for those boxes to come in so I had a good excuse to skip out on physical therapy for the day.

We invited the three mission interns to come along, which meant they had to take the bus. Saul and Camille accompanied them and the group ALMOST made it all the way there. One town short of Carapegua, Letitia and Camille got off so that Letitia could vomit. Bless her heart.

We had lunch with a family there, where the girls got to eat their first pot full of bori (corn flour rolled into balls the size of large marbles, then boiled in a pot with water, meat, and some veggies). Then we loaded up the car and delivered the boxes of fun.

When we arrived at the school, we explained that the children had to wait until everyone had their boxes before they could open them. We also handed out the Bible study books that come with each box, and went through that before they tore into the boxes. The children were so patiently waiting for our go-ahead, and when we finally gave it, the squealing began.




Most of the boxes had small toys, candy, dolls, hairbows, socks, and an occasional note from the sender. These boxes in particular came from the Alberta, Canada area, so some had baseballs with the Canadian team logos on them. The sweet yet sad thing was to see the kids get excited for the contents, and realize that the loudest squeals and biggest smiles came from items of clothing. These children are often without good shoes or clothes that fit, so a pair of socks was like gold. They were just too precious.

After a while of sorting through the boxes and explaining what some of the "new" things were (for example, tape, mechanical pencils, toothpaste), we had a group prayer to thank God and ask His blessings on those who sent the boxes. The students were so excited to hear that we'd be returning to go through the Bible study books with them, and I thought again of how SHOWING God's love before trying to TELL of it really counts for something.

Thank you to every person reading this who has ever packed a shoebox for some unknown child. From the other side of it, I can tell you that the child is not an empty face. He is a little person who not only has some of his physical needs met from what's in the box, but also feels terribly special that someone who's never met him cares enough to send him a box full of love.

In case you were wondering, here's an update on our legal fun:

1. The truck. Remember that wonderful Mission Mobile we got scammed into buying when it wasn't legally sell-able? Remember our fight to get the paperwork? Well, it's been 2 1/2 years now, and we're still fighting. We visited the notary who supposedly is the hold-up, to find out that she still doesn't have the paperwork from the loan company of the man who sold it to the car dealer who sold it to us. You got that, right? The word is that the man who sold it before he should have (i.e. before he paid off the debts on it) has paid the debts, but lost his receipt. So the clean title can't be issued until he pays a fee for a new receipt or finds the old one. He's in no hurry.

2. The truck's motor. We did finally get it out of the shop. We put it in to have the motor worked on (ended up having to be re-rebuilt) the first of December, and were told it'd only take a few days. We got it back four months later, took it on the road the first time, and the motor locked up. Dead. It is now sitting in a friend's mechanic shop until we decide if we want to re-re-rebuild this motor or just replace it, for a considerably higher cost. We'll see. It's not real fun knowing we wasted the recent expense in having it re-rebuilt. Thank God we were able to find a little Volkswagen and are bopping around in that. It's been a lot more cost effective than the mission mobile would have been in fuel expenses back and forth to PT each day, an important point to consider since gas is about $5.50/gal right now.

3. The leg. Our wreck lawyer, who happens to be the praise-and-worship leader at the church, has informed us that the man who hit me, is not responding to his attempts to contact him. He has not actually made good on any of his promises to help with the medical expenses, and we are now looking at what can be done about that. The expenses are mounting, and the driver assured us that he was willing and able to step up. We'll see. (**NOTE that we have found a different lawyer and a different mechanic than those mentioned in #1 and 2 above, both of which we feel were Godsends. They have put our minds at ease about the trust factor, at least!)

4. On the way to PT about two weeks ago, a city bus pulled over into our lane and hit our little car. The driver of the bus insisted we should pull up to the nearby police building to resolve it, but as suspected, he kept driving. So we filled out the report from our point of view with the police and turned it into the bus company, who says that the company insurance covers things such as this. The general consensus from the public is that the bus company NEVER pays for their wrecks, even when they admit fault. We'll see. Thankfully, there wasn't any major damage done.

5. On the way BACK from PT a few days ago, we were motioned over by the police. This is nothing new, and especially during the Bicentennial celebrations. There is, naturally, much more traffic, so there are many, many more traffic stops. The police stand in the middle of the road and motion for every 2nd or 3rd car to pull over. They work really hard to find some reason for a ticket, at which point the typical person offers a small bribe, and drives away. Since we do not offer bribes, we get written tickets. This was a minor infraction, but it didn't do much for morale, to be honest.

I guess I don't have to explain that riding in Asuncion is worse than seeing New York in a taxi, and the drives there and back each day work on my post-wreck peace of mind. They kinda take their toll on my chauffeur-husband, too. I can say that I'm truly glad I'm not having to make the trip by bus every day, but the trip by car is taxing. When you add the fun of wrecks and paperwork and tickets, it's easy to see how the enemy has declared warfare on us in this area. We are aware of it, though, and fighting from this end. God is greater than the legal system, the anxiety, the unsafe driving conditions, and the mechanical foolishness we are encountering, and we know He has a plan in all of this.

It's an adventure here, that's all I can say. Thank God that we know this part is only a chapter of the book, and HE writes the ending. :) God is good.

The house next door is now full of girls, much to the delight of Camille and Caroline. Three young ladies from the Intercultural Studies department of Lee University arrived last week, and will be working at Hogar Ganar until mid-July. Audra, Erica, and Letitia will be doing hands-on projects in the houses, English classes for the community, Saturday children's programs, and much more. For now they are getting to know the children living in the three homes of Hogar Ganar, and becoming accustomed to the language, food, and climate.

We have enjoyed hearing about missions from their "university" standpoint, and also hearing about the latest things happening in the US. They are all excited to be here and have big plans to reach out to the folks living here. They've already been a blessing to us, from teaching my girls how to crochet to sharing books with us. Just this week they began the English classes, with 12 students the first night, and with Camille and Caroline are their official translators. As quickly as the Lee gals are catching on, though, I'm guessing they won't need translators for long.

I've neglected my beloved blog lately. I do enjoy recounting the events of the day and putting down on "paper" things I want to remember forever. Lately, my days revolve around recovery and all thoughts seem to lead to the leg, and somehow I just don't think my loyal readers want to open their laptops and hear me whine. So I have avoided the blog like we avoid mosquitoes in dengue season (which, by the way, seems to be wrapping up).

Things are plugging along, though. We are getting more involved here in Itaugua, ministry-wise, as time allows. Most of our days start with a long commute to physical therapy, a few hours of what we lovingly term torture, the commute back, and then resting from the torture. By mid-evening, sometimes I have energy to get involved in other things, but sometimes I'm just done for the day. The family has been so good in not only filling in the gaps for the things I can't do right now, but also to "bring me this, get me that." I feel more than a little guilty for my lack of productivity, and the way I eat up the day for everyone else in this house, too, which is a little of the reason I don't always sit down at the computer and write about it. Saying it out loud (or typing it, I should say) kinda admits that this really is happening. Does that make sense?

I do have to tell you, though, what a privilege it was to be in Paraguay for their bicentennial celebration. For the past week or two, and especially this past weekend, the whole country celebrated Paraguay's 200th Independence Day, complete with town parades, concerts, school programs, military parades, fireworks, you name it. Unfortunately, I watched most of it from the comfort of my living room.

But as we drove to therapy each day, we really, really enjoyed all the preparations going on in each town. We passed the school kids practicing "parade-walking" on the street in straight lines, folks painting the Paraguayan flag colors on their tree trunk, city workers putting banners on light posts, street vendors selling bumper stickers and flags, military dudes lining up tanks at intersections and standing at attention with their guns, and flags hanging from every house or building in sight.

Last week I skipped out on therapy one day to attend the school's presentation. The students dressed up like war heroes, peasants, and "ladies and gentlemen," to show us the traditional Paraguayan dances and songs.

Afterward, we walked around the school grounds to check out the cultural booths each grade had set up. It was a great time to meet other parents and get to know the teachers and staff better, while sampling some of the typical foods and handiwork of the country.


These cool-looking folks with us are the pastors of the local church, in their traditional Paraguayan garb.

Even though we didn't physically attend the other events, most other Paraguayans did, it seems. Asuncion was inundated by folks who, according to the news, don't come often into the city. They were treated to many patriotic speeches, encouraging them to take pride in the country and do what they could to "leave the vices behind and embrace the good." There were many references to bettering ourselves spiritually. Help us pray that this time of wanting to renew the country will lead to a hunger not just for "spiritual things," but a hunger for God himself.