Day of the Dead in Peru

This from Bill:

November 1^st is the day when Peru celebrates “the Day of the Dead.” I never gave a great deal of thought to the Day of the Dead in the states. In the past, I often went to cemeteries to pray--because they are peaceful and beautifully landscaped. As such, the idea of going to a cemetery for a picnic lunch, remembering your past loved one(s), seemed morbid, but not that far out of the possibility range. But, in Peru, the idea takes on a much different meaning than merely remembering your past loved ones—it is a partial reenactment of their ancient pagan ceremonies. Prior to the Spanish conquest of Peru, the Incas worshipped their ancestors by setting the mummies in a prominent place and then having lunch with them. Clairvoyants were employed to receive messages from the dead. The people would set out food and pour out beer in the mummy's presence, so that the mummy could enjoy them and, in return, pass on blessings to the living.  The beer was (and continues to be) a big part of the celebration. I envision the clairvoyant’s conversation going something like this:

"Your great grandfather is here and he thanks you for the ham sandwiches and the corn-nuts, but he will not give you his blessing."

"Why will he not bestow on us the blessing?"

"Because you're stingy with the beer and you’re only serving him the cheap stuff!"

The Incas were not stingy with the dead. When the Spanish conquered Peru, one third of the country’s food was being offered to the dead, which resulted in starvation among the tribes the Incas had conquered. In the pagan ceremonies where they partied with their ancestors, the Incas poured out so much beer (for the dead), that it ran out of fountains and through channels that lined the streets of Cusco. Because of the influence of Catholicism, most Peruvians do not offer meals to the dead directly, anymore; but they do continue the practice of eating and drinking in the presence of the deceased. And the beer continues to flow—though nowadays, it does not flow through the streets; rather, it flows through the family members who use this day as an excuse to get drunk and attach some kind of generally religious notion to it. 

The pictures below are from an NBC news photoblog, detailing the practices of some of the families in Lima. The photos are beautiful and serve as reminders of the need for the Gospel in this stark and barren land.

http://photoblog.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/11/01/14864980-day-of-the-dead-celebration-in-peru?lite

Turning the Last Pages

This from Lena:

Back when getting lost in a novel for days at a time was a normal practice for me (I was an avid reader as a young girl), I had the feeling often. I would lose myself in the characters and their private struggles, and as I would near the ending, I dreaded it. Sometimes, I admit it, I peeked at the end. The better the book, the stronger the regret as I flipped the last few pages, dreading the moment when I had to leave the little space in my mind that I had created to hold my hero and all their defeats and joys.

What I am feeling now feels a lot like that, but the hero of the story is my oldest daughter, Hannah. For those of you who have already launched some babies, I guess I have to plead a little patience. It is just that I have been forced to realize recently---through the onslaught of college applications, talk of financial aid, and the rest---that I am in the last pages of this book of daily-present parenting.

I am among the most fortunate of parents. The hardest things ever got with my girl were just totally normal things—practically rites of passage. We did our best to train her. We held her in our laps, we worshiped with her, we brought her to so many ministry events that she started to believe (and act!) like she was already a minister of the gospel! I remember chuckling that it was probably a good thing we were taking Hannah to the mission field when she was 12, because she often had something to add to her dad's teachings to the college students, and I didn't relish having to ask her to hold back a bit.

So the thing that I am feeling right now doesn't have much to do with worrying about her being able to cope (although I have all the normal concerns). It is mostly that I will lose the dailiness of our relationship. I will lose the moments when she feels like talking and sidles up next to me on the couch, signaling me that it is time to chat. I won't know as often if she had a good or bad day, or know the personalities of her friends so that the stories of her day take on that novel-like space in my mind, so that I can delve into the story with her.

And very selfishly, I will lose all the pride that fills my heart when I feel the Holy Spirit rip through an auditorium or a little shack-of-a-church in the countryside when she opens her mouth to lead in worship. I will SO miss that. I vividly remember the first time I realized the gift that was on her. We were at our home church in Cincinnati, and she had a song to sing in Spanish---she was only 12, and she barely knew what she was singing at the time, but the gift was evident, and I was embarrassed by the flush of pleasure that raced through me. I had had my suspicions—but that day they were confirmed. What a gift. What a special gift!

A dear friend of ours had a dream about Hannah that she shared with us yesterday. In the dream, Bill had been training her to do a special dance for church that involved her dancing over a map. She was still learning the dance. At one point, Bill could no longer see her doing the dance, but she could, and Hannah was touching people and walls and prophesying to them, as she danced all over the map. She wanted to tell Bill that yes, she was doing the dance and it was beautiful, even though he couldn't see it. She learned the dance.

Tears streamed down my face as she finished telling me the dream. The part that hurts is the not seeing. We are so blessed that our pain is that of missing victories, of skipping chapters that we would have liked to savor. It could have been tears of disappointment or fear that her life would be fraught with consequences of poor decisions, but she is so grounded that I highly doubt it. No—much more likely that we will simply miss out seeing the dance.

I am slowing down a little in these last pages, taking it all in. I am being a little more selfish with my time with her, savoring the words as I deliberately turn the page instead of hurrying on to the finish. All too soon, she will be a continent away. We bought the expensive leatherette coat for her birthday-- I didn't even care that it wasn't on sale. We look for holes in the schedule where we can separate family time. We are thinking about what we will regret not having done in two years that we can do something about now. Family vacation? How many more opportunities will there be for the six of us to be all together? Pages are turning, and I can feel the weight of the spine shifting to the front with each turn.

The sequel is going to be good, I can tell. I probably am going to have to content myself with reading the reviews, but that doesn't make the book any less a good read—it just means I won't know first-hand. Regardless, I will always be thankful for this one that I have enjoyed thoroughly, drinking in the characters and crying and laughing out loud through it all.

Pictured above:  Hannah (15)preparing to dance the Marinera (a traditional Peruvian or Chilean dance, depending on which you happen to be) for a school event.

Calling Sponsors into Being That Are Not as Though They Were

This from Lena:

There is a dynamic in the Christian life that doesn't make any sense, but is very real. When we pray, we are instructed to pray believing that we will receive what we are asking for--as though it was already ours. When we do this, we become a bit like our Father in heaven, “who calls things that are not as though they were.” Nothing plus faith equals something. We become participants in God's response to our own prayers by demonstrating faith that He hears and wants to respond to our faith-filled prayers.

Twice a year, LACC does a special project in which the children write a paragraph about a given theme. This gives them a chance to connect with their sponsor and give the sponsors a window into their lives. The first project this year was “My prayer for you...” The children were to write a little prayer that expressed their heart desires for their sponsors. Now, it is our office's policy to have all the children—those with sponsors and those awaiting a sponsor—to do a project, just in case one of the children is assigned a sponsor while a project is active. My heart fell as I began to read the prayers the children wrote to sponsors who did not yet exist. I felt the irony, but I know that something powerful happens when we do something in faith---like write a letter to someone who doesn't exist yet, but is an answer to our prayers.

Some of the kids were quite specific:

“...and please send me a sponsor who is good and handsome!”

Some appealed to their imagined sponsor's sense of justice:

“I would like God to move on your heart and that you would be my sponsor, and that you would help me in my studies, so that I can be a professional one day and escape the poverty we live in. To the person who reads this—thank you very much and may God bless you richly. Thank you. Good-bye.

Some shook the heavens:

“Help me to have a person from You who is kind and good who can help me to be like you with the very poor people who live around here. Help me to study hard to be able to keep going. Thank you, Sponsor. I am going to have a sponsor. Thank you, Lord, for blessing my sponsor for choosing me. Thank you. I am sending you a hug and a kiss.

I want you to know that for some reason, we had probably the biggest jump in sponsorship since that project was written that we have ever seen.  In fact, I KNOW that it is the biggest, from all of the first letters I have been translating!  There are circumstances that we can explain that with (we have a staff member on itineration currently, which really helps!!), but why now? There have been months in our own itineration when very few children have been sponsored. Maybe it was because some kids took a step of faith and called a sponsor into being who wasn't as though they were.  And just so you know---all three of these got sponsors!

Bus Singer

People do all sorts of things to beg in Lima. Often, little kids get on the bus and sing for loose change. This was the first time I've heard opera on the bus. This guy was incredible! I gave him 1 sole (about 35 cents) and asked for another song. If riding the bus in the States was this classy, more people would take the bus!

The Girlfriend's Guide to Lice Annihilation

Let's just say hypothetically that maybe there was a mom somewhere in the world that woke up to a whole new world of fighting head lice.  She was innocent at first--didn't even recognize it when the first of four started scratching....but then she got wise really quick.  Maybe a majority of the house-dwellers in her house came down with them, ok?  Said mom would within days become something of a specialist in head lice annihilation. She might even feel the urge to start a social action group against head lice and start distributing fliers about head lice annihilation best practice.  These are maybe a few things that she would put on said flier:

1.  Fifty-ish men tend not to get them.  Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.
2.  Moms who spend the whole day OCD-ing over finding one more up their odds of one of the little buggers migrating to her own precious locks.
3. The first sighting of a live little squirmy thing weaving through your kids' hair is the hardest.  Make sure that if you find a little colony of them squirming around, that you show your spouse so he may feel the passion of the cause.  After this moment,  it is sheer hatred that drives you to kill them.  Onward Christian soldier.
4. Moms who find out they have "visitors" in their own scalps after fighting it all day on the heads of their little ones can get a bit cranky.  A lot cranky. Pick through her hair super gently and act like you know what you are doing, even if it is just to humor her.
5. Killing the bugs themselves is easy.  Pinch, gently remove from scalp, then smoosh into oblivion.  Or, you can just kill them with your shampoo poison stuff and then pick them out.  They are just the tip of iceberg, Girl.  Hold on to your hoodie, 'cause there's more.
6. The eggs.  At first you are like, "I don't get it.  I am sure there are eggs here somewhere."  You are right.  You have been combing right past them for two days now.  Don't panic.  Just take your time and take it one fine-tooth comb swipe at a time.  That stuff you thought was dandruff?  It wasn't.  Now is a good time to go get another cup of coffee and brace yourself for a long ride.
7.  Check in the morning, every morning, for a long time.  Like two weeks.  The eggs can live 7-10 days, so even if you last saw a live one a week ago, you can still have a fresh one popping.  When you check an area that has had a large cache of eggs, you want to go nice and slow through there, and wait to see if something wiggles.  Ick.  But true.

So there you have it.  There is so much this mom could say about head lice---for example, head lice warfare philosophies, head lice trivia, all sorts of head lice analogies for the spiritual lice that invades our souls....I am sure she has had plenty of time to think about it all as she picks more lice off of her kids than monkeys pick fleas off of each other.  But, there is only so much room on the flier.  So there.

Momma Lena Got Keys...Divine Irony in Motion

This from Lena:

I cried in front of the tester the day I took my driver's license test.  I was 24 years old.  I slept less the night before I took that test than I did the night before I got married, a few months later.  My wise fiance had challenged me  to finally kill the beast and get my license, thus making me a more equal partner in the marriage rather than someone he would have to cater to.  I knew it was the right thing.  I was petrified.

I had never parallel-parked successfully.  Ever.  The evening before I spent crying out to God for help. I went to my prayer closet a desperate woman.  I remember hearing one thing in my heart--that I was to cast out my net one more time, like Peter when he had fished all night and had not caught anything.  One hour before my scheduled test, I went out to the driveway gripping my cones, full of grim determination.  I managed to pull off one successful park, and then it was off to the exam.  I cried so hard in the car when the tester corrected me that he asked my if my boyfriend beat me.  Oh my.  I don't even know why he gave me the license, because he could have flunked me.  But I got it.

I wanted to tell you this story, because I want you to grasp how extremely ridiculous it is that God sent me to a city of 9 million people,  teeming with 20-year-old minivans with doors that don't even close anymore that dodge in and out of traffic, and buses doing the same, not to mention taxis that make it impossible to take a right turn from the right-hand lane....you have to see it to believe it.  Or live in Africa or India.  Or Mexico City.  Someplace like that.   There is nothing in the States that comes close.

Divine Irony.  His power made perfect in our weakness.  It has taken me close to three years, but I am no longer paralyzed by the thought of driving in Lima at night.  I drive about an hour in Lima traffic Wednesday nights to our dear church, located in an area where you don't tell taxis you are going, or they won't take you there.  The further out I get, the more mototaxis there are, which I call buzzy bees, because that is the sensation they create as they zip through traffic.  Sometimes something a little scary happens, but mostly I am just so thankful not to be petrified anymore to do it.

I am not telling this story to make you think I am courageous or special.  It is just the opposite.  I am telling you because it knocks my socks off that the Lord has taken me this far.  I still can't parallel park for beans, and I stink at judging whether I can fit in a parking space.  I know I look like a dork at some point most days, wielding my huge minivan through the streets of Lima, and I wonder if my kids' friends are like, "Are you SURE you want to ride with Mrs. SHRADER?"   If the angels get a good laugh watching me run the streets of Lima,  I suppose that is fine with me as long as they keep me out trouble.  And if the Lord gets special delight out of watching his timid little Ohio driver take on traffic so she can be a worthy partner with Him, I am alright with that, too.

Hunger Flames

This from Lena:
OK, so the title is totally contrived, but it got you here, right?

An alumni from our Chi Alpha ministry years ago (for those of you who don't know us very well, we cut our ministerial teeth In Chi Alpha Campus Ministries and loved that ministry dearly) just celebrated his birthday.  I found myself thinking about what it was that delighted me so much about this person.  When I comb through the archives of my mind (and Spanish acquisition has diminished them considerably), what sticks out is one of the first times he came to our meetings.

Now, you need to understand that we were Jesus Culture when Jesus Culture wasn't cool.  We were (are!) die-hard Pentecostals.  This does not mean that we jump.  It means that we love the presence of the Holy Spirit, believe that what He brings is worth waiting in the upper room for.  That what He brings is going to equip us to make a difference in this world, and that without His move, we are powerless.

Our worship times were characterized by a deep sense of the presence of the Spirit.  When this particular student arrived, he took to it like a fish to water.  Like Mozart to a piano.  Like Justin Bieber to the heart of pre-adolescent girls.  He laughed, he cried, he acted like a hungry man who had just found a KFC in the middle of a desert.  And it affected all of us.  His hunger was palpable, and it drew the rest of us deeper in, made us value His presence more.

Have you ever been in a supermarket next to someone who is excited to find some great fruit?  One person starts looking, sees that maybe the mango is just right, and lets out a little squeal of culinary anticipation.  Pretty soon all the housewives are acting like they got to have some mango, or they are going to die.  One person's hunger or anticipation of something good coming affects everyone else.  Everyone around them starts thinking, "If I don't move, I am going to miss out!"

Hunger for God is like a fire that shoots out sparks all around.  It is infectious.  It makes spiritually bored people wonder how they got to be so disenchanted with church life, and makes them long for the first flush of love with God in which they were willing to do anything, go anywhere.  Those sparky people stir something of longing inside of us.  How I love them!

So I want to dedicate this to all you sparky people out there, whose hunger for God fans into flame passion inside the rest.  Keep flame-throwing.  There is bound to be some nice, dry wood around just waiting for a spark.

Blue-eyed Barbie Longings

This from Lena:

I have a very clear memory of the day I went to see Aladdin. I was with Bill, and without any warning, I started tearing up. When I looked at this Disney princess, I was seeing something I had never seen before in a princess movie. I was seeing someone who looked like me! Dark, full hair, darker skin, dark eyes---and beautiful. But even more than that, by being made a heroine, her beauty was receiving collective cultural approval. Valued. Wanted.  The power of it surprised and embarrassed me.

So often when I walk through the streets in brown-eyed, brown-skinned Peru, people stop me to tell me how beautiful my daughters are. They are absolutely right! My daughters are fabulously lovely. They will exclaim, “She is so beautiful! Just like a Barbie!!” And they will say it with a starry-eyed, dark little princess at their side. Usually the little one joins in on the adulation, so culturally adapted to this “white is beautiful” idea that it doesn't even occur to her to be offended that she is being overlooked. I imagine that she is carefully considering what she can do to look more “Barbie”--fully knowing that her own eyes can't change their color, that her hair won't take the blond color well. I often reply, “...and your granddaughter here...she is very lovely, also!” It doesn't really change anything, but it feels right to say.

Most of the time, you cannot even find a single Barbie in the store here who has some color to her skin. The only place you can find a doll who looks like a native Peruvian is in the tourist areas, and in general, Peruvians don't go there to find dolls that look like them. The message is clear. Barbie is beautiful. Lovely young women with thick, raven-dark, straight-as-a-rod hair longing for it to be blond. Creamy, clear skin—and wishing always that it were lighter. 

It seems to me that this makes about as much sense as a daisy wanting to be a geranium. All day long, the daisy says to her Maker, “Why didn't you make me a geranium?!! I could have been pink or coral! But here I am, stuck with white! Who wants to be just plain-old white?!!” It feels bad to even write that, because God clearly loves to create diversity of beauty. He can't even seem to stop Himself! His creation itself seems to resists the boxes we try to put them in. (Example: try to explain to me exactly what a platypus is.)

I so want to cry out against this way of thinking, but I only have to scratch beneath the surface to find traces of this sort of thinking in my own life. I am an American, and for many years now we have collectively chosen—and rightly so—to declare all colors beautiful. But I still have geranium longings. “God, I love all this daisy stuff You gave me, but can't I have some geranium leadership skills? I want to preach like that rose over there. You couldn't have made me a bit more like that patient gardenia?” Thinking this way utterly misses the point. God loves His garden, and He makes no apologies for not making every flower exactly alike. To demand to be made different from His original plan is sorrowfully thankless—a rejection of His great loving design and unique favor over our lives. A fresh bouquet thrown in the trash. I am not as far from blue-eyed Barbie longings as I sometimes think.

I want God to so impress me with this truth that I stop insulting His goodness to me.  I want to get to a point where I am so well-aware of the blessing I have been given in my own design that it hurts me (because it hurts Him) before I even finish my inner complaint about how I am not like this or that one.  I want to let thankfulness take it's place, and be able to appreciate my own unique beauty, even as I marvel at what He has put in those around me.

I am including a shot of a beautiful garden of beauties in this post. God hand-picked his palette for each one.  It was taken in our garden this weekend as they were preparing for a banquet. It just seems right!

Unseen

But when you pray, go to your room, close the door, and pray to your Father, who is unseen.  And your Father, who sees what you do in private, will reward you.  (Matt. 6:6)

When you go without food, wash your face and comb your hair, so that others cannot know that you are fasting—only your Father, who is unseen, will know.  And your Father, who sees what you do in private, will reward you.   (Matt. 6:17-18)

I never saw it before.  The Father, who is unseen. 

I started thinking about why it mattered to say that the Father was unseen in this teaching.  Obviously, we know that we don’t see God all the time.  Given.   So why does it matter so much in this passage?

Jesus is teaching about things he wants us to do in secret:  giving, praying, fasting.  They are disciplines that Jesus wants us to keep under wraps-so that even our best friends don’t know what we are doing.  Why does it matter so much?

As I reflected on this, I realized all the blessings that fill my life daily, carefully planned out by my unseen Father, that go unnoticed.  How many times has the Father snuck into my life to throw me a little (or huge!) blessing, and I went on my way, completely oblivious?  The right door opens up for a job opportunity, a word of encouragement from a friend just in time, a little extra cash in a really tight month that comes from an unexpected source,  a trip to the doctor’s that “accidentally” finds something they weren’t even looking for that is in the early stages of developing instead of the last…..there are unseen blessings everywhere that reflect the unseen Father.  Unnoticed.  Undetected.  Overlooked.

And so it seems that Jesus is telling us that we should try to do things the way the Father who is unseen does things.  It might be an anonymous detail that touches the heart, or even something huge and costly that absolutely no one knows about.

It feels like He just wants us to walk a mile or two at His side.  To understand for a moment what it means to do something that brings us nothing except His pleasure-to totally erase the flesh factor from an act of devotion.  We religious types can get confused as to why we even started down this road.  The flesh can learn to masquerade as ministry with a little practice.  So in some of the most flesh-costly acts—prayer, fasting, and giving—He asks us to just out-and-out kill any possibility of getting a kick-back to our ego or reputation.  Don’t even put it on the books.  Slide the money into the basket in a blank envelope.  Don’t explain to anyone why you have to get up at 5 or 6. 

I personally have a long way to go on this one.  I think I need Unseen 101, the remedial track, so don’t call me for advice on how to live this one out.  And I know there are those of you who are out there who are really good at this, but you won’t say anything.  You’ll just smile and move along.  

Bakersfield First Assembly Missions Team

A missions team from Bakersfield First Assembly came down and worked in the Catacaos, Piura, heat to raise the walls of a new high school and bring healing to sick families. Thanks to all of them for joining us in the mission of spreading the good news of Jesus to Peru and blessing the poor through Latin America ChildCare.

Please click the link to see photos of the team: Bakersfield First Assembly Missions team

Dancing the Marinera

While the Bakersfield First Assembly team was working in Catacaos (a suburb of Piura, Peru), the pastor asked two individuals show us the Marinera. It is a traditional dance from that region and is supposed to be two chickens courting. I love it!

A Severe Pruning

Our journey into missions started with a bang!  We had prophetic words from God, incredible excitement, great vision deep in our hearts, and an assurance that God was up to something big!

We had no idea what we had just stepped into.

I won’t bore you with the details, but I can tell you this--- I was not prepared for the gut-wrenching trial that we were about to step into.  We went through relational trials, legal trials, relational trials….did I mention relational trials?  I loved our new world, and at the same time, I feared it, that it would take me out before our adventure had even had a chance to take root.  Never in my life had I undergone what I will call such a severe pruning.  The kind of pruning where you look at the bush you just hacked and wonder if it can survive with so few leaves left.  

We landed back in the States like people jumping off a train—still rolling, rolling, rolling.  You stop a second to ask yourself if you can get up or if you need to wait for the ambulance.  You find that, yes, you can get up, and you start doing normal things.  I painted the house for two months straight.  I was very, very happy to just paint the house, if you know what I mean. 

We came back to Lima, not sure how we would be there.  We got settled in, and things felt pretty good.  It felt pretty normal.  Bill and I both started pressing in to the Lord, finding that place with Him that is the bedrock of everything that we build—just a place of communion.  I started praying in the Spirit a lot.  I started seeing branches sprouting on my little bush of a life, and before I knew it, I felt good.  Really good.

Severe pruning over.  Thank God it is over!!

But I will tell you, that as scary as it was for me, as deeply pained as I felt, I can tell you that the branches that are growing back are thicker and healthier than I have ever seen on my little bush.  When all my precious leaves were taken from me, and I sat barren for what seemed like such an unbearable time, wondering if I would ever be the same again, something was happening deep inside of me.  In the middle of excruciating pain, we can quote the passages of hope, but we don’t usually feel them.  It takes such a long time, but one day, it is there.  It is over, and we are not the same.  We are better.  We weren’t sure we would even survive, but there it is.  Buds are everywhere.  EVERYWHERE!!!  THANK GOD, THANK GOD!!!  EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!

I am so thankful to my God the Gardener,  who watered my little bush faithfully, put some manure down in the right season, and waited patiently for his work to be seen. 

Bill and Colton's Ayacucho trip - Part 2

Bill and Colton travel back to Lima from Ayacucho, Peru. This video shows lovely shots of the Andes Mountains, with a soundtrack from the Movie RED (Retired Extremely Dangerous) dubbed into Spanish.

Bill Gates advises against helping Peru

Recently, Bill Gates gave an interview in which he advised against giving foreign aid to Peru. (http://www.peruthisweek.com/news-1623-Bill-Gates-Aid-should-go-to-the-most-poor-not-middle-income-countries-like-Peru/.)

Gates states that Peruvians have a per capita annual income of $10,000. I believe that, because I've seen more filthy rich millionairs here than anywhere in the U.S.  The problem is that the gap between the few individuals who are filthy rich and the multitudes who are filthy poor is as wide and deep as the grand canyon. 25% of peruvians live on $1 per day! Another 25% live on $2 per day. Of Peru's 28 million residents, 14 million earn an average annual wage of $547.50. (A person earning minimum wage in Ohio earns that in 9 days.) So, if half the country is earning $547.50, those on the higher end of the food chain are bringing home some mighty thick slices of bacon. That is, someone is earning a lot of money to bring the average up to $10,000.

Peru's problem is one of resource utilization. Peru has minerals which are highly valued in the world's industrial markets. It also has large deposits of natural gas. Very little of the wealth generated from these natural resources trickles down to the masses, but it can be seen in infrastructure. In order for international mining and banking corporations to siphon off the wealth of Peru's mineral deposits, they need roads, water, electricity and internet connections. The resulting infrastructure enables economic growth for the remaining masses. It also enables me to have internet. But the greatest resource in Peru is completely untapped; i.e. the intelligence of its hard working people. "According to a report released by the World Economic Forum (WEF) … out of 131 countries ranked in the world, Peru was in last place in the quality of its elementary school education and in 130th place in the areas of math and science   (Peru Ranked Last in the World in Quality of Education,‖ Living in Peru, http://www.livinginperu.com/news-5061-education-peru-ranked-last-world-quality-education)."

So, I agree with Gates that Peru does not need foreign money. But it still needs aid--in forms that develop the minds and souls of its people. That is the power of Latin America ChildCare--the ministry which we represent in Peru. By ministering to the poor through the impartation of the Gospel and education, we are transforming the lives of those who live in abject poverty.

Bill and Colton's Trip to Ayacucho - part 1

Bill and Colton Traveled to Ayacucho, Peru, to give Christmas gifts to Latin America ChildCare children. Here's a taste of what they experienced. The best shots of the mountains are in the "Part 2" video.

Top 10 of 2011

The Shrader Family’s 

Top 10 of 2011

Greetings Friends & Family!

Dr. Bill & his lovely bride

Each year it is Lena’s practice to put together a Top 10 list of the year.   As we say goodbye to 2011, we have much to celebrate:

10.  Bill graduated with his doctorate in Leadership and celebrated his 50^th birthday with a rollicking, crazy, bigger-than-our-wedding party.  Our dear friends and long-term supporters, the Wolfs, hosted it all, and made several runs for more food.  Many friends came from far away, and it was such a touching moment in our lives.  We will never forget it.

9.  The Shrader Family made it back to Peru on time and by the moving of God’s hand in our favor.  Though our missions support was below our projections, God spoke that we were to trust Him to get back on time and by a miracle.  We did and He did—using our circumstances to put His “amen” on our return.  I am so thankful for a God who takes us to the rollercoaster edge of faith and then comes through.  Thanks, also, to all who have partnered with us!

Bill with LACC kids in Peru

8.  We were home through all of the crucial moments in my dad’s illness and in his consequent home going.  It is hard to explain to anyone who has not lived overseas how excruciating it is to think that important family moments are clicking by without you, and that you are missing your own history.  Of course, God is in control and brought us home at just the right time.  I was with my dad, Sam Bellitto, when he went to meet the Lord.  His last words to me were on his birthday, February 17^th.  I had plopped myself on his bed in a funny way to try to lighten up the situation, and he responded with a fuzzy, “Hi, Honey!”—the way he always did.  Never, ever, ever have I questioned my dad’s pleasure in my presence.  Now I know what a gift that is.

7.  Bill and I celebrated 20 wonderful years together. Our marriage, like our calling, has been a blessed adventure.

Colton & Hannah

6.  Hannah continues to soar musically.  Hannah continues to grow musically and makes us very proud with her accomplishments.  We love to hear her lead worship—she ushers in the Presence of the Lord in an amazing way—displaying an anointing that goes beyond talent.  I think of the days when I twirled her around during worship because I wanted her to love experiencing God, and my heart overflows with thanksgiving.

5.  Colton becomes a handsome young man, but “keeps his head on straight.”  Colton has grown into an enviable adolescence.  He got a lot of attention from girls in the States, but kept his eyes on the Lord and had a great testimony in our public school system.  He is a wise young man and uses his gifts to influence others for the Lord.  He’s also passed the requirements for the President’s physical fitness award.

Will

4.  Will survives two school transitions and displays great rhythm.  Will enjoys riding his brother’s skateboard and displays natural rhythm playing the bongos. He loves to read (especially super hero stories and Calvin and Hobbes). Previously he struggled to speak Spanish, but he has good comprehension—surprising us when we heard him translating a Spanish children’s book for his little sister.

Abigail

3.  Abi holds her ground and re-enters Spanish world.  Abi was the best Spanish speaker in the family when we left Peru for the States, but she suffered the most upon our return—having forgotten most of it.  Our first Sunday back in Peru, she had tears streaming down her face and said, “I don’t understand what they’re saying!” She has been a trooper and is regaining much of the Spanish she lost. Nothing touches me like when one of our kids does something brave. 

2.  The Shrader family got to enjoy being home—including snow, blueberries, and American food—but mostly FRIENDS AND FAMILY! 

1. The Shrader family got to return to Peru—including sand, llamas, and Peruvian food—but mostly the blessed adventure of walking with Christ! We’re excited about what God is doing as we preach, teach and direct Latin America ChildCare in Peru. Thanks to LACC and the Wonderful Ohio Women (WOW) of the Assemblies of God for raising funds to build a new High School in Catacaos. Thanks also to the many teams who are coming down to join us in the blessed adventure that is shaping up for 2012!

With much love in Christ,

Lena & Bill Shrader

Yellow Underwear and a Lucky New Year!

Years ago, a friend asked me if it was true that Peruvians wear yellow underwear to celebrate New Year's. The answer: Yes! It is supposed to bring good luck, though whenever I've worn yellow underwear it's been because of unlucky circumstances. Perhaps being below the equator reverses all of that. Yesterday (New Year's Eve) we went shopping and saw underwear vendors out on the streets, hawking their "wears" for all those needing some fresh luck for the new year.

May God bless your new year regardless of what you're wearing!

Feeding Program Success Stories

An omelet made with egg, rice, dried vegetables,
soy protein and vitamins.

This from Bill:

For a couple of years, we were able to feed up to 1000 kids three to five days per week in our poorest schools. Thankfully, the food was generously provided by two ministries: Fire Peru and Feed My Starving Children. Last year, while we were in the states, we had to close the feeding program. The mission of Latin America ChildCare is to transform the lives of children in need with the Gospel of Jesus Christ through education and ministries of compassion (like the feeding program). Closing the program down felt counter to our mission.

Saying Grace before eating lunch.

When we returned to Peru, we received good news. A container of food was available. It would be  enough food to feed the kids in our two schools in the jungle—but it would cost $4500 to get it out of the port. How were we going to pay for it? 

We received a $500 donation last year, specifically marked for the feeding program. Ironically, when we received the donation, we had already closed the program. So, it was a prophetic faith-seed donation. But that left us $4000 short. We did the only prudent thing to do in that situation: close our eyes and jump. That’s right, close our eyes and spend money we don’t have on an expensive program we can’t afford. The reason I was willing to go out on a limb is that I know these kids personally. They’re not just pictures on a television screen. These are the kids that scream “Missionary Bill!” and run to hug me when they see me walking down their muddy jungle streets.  

Three stories haunt me and motivated my decision to spend the money. The first is of a boy who grew two inches in two months. (That must have hurt!) The families in the jungle town of Iquitos only earn 71 cents per person daily. They are literally starving. 35% of the children in Iquitos suffer from stunted growth as a result of extreme malnutrition. He was one of them; but when his body got the nourishment it needed, it took off like a weed.

The second story is of a girl who gained ten pounds in one month. After finishing her own lunch, she went around eating the leftover food off of the other students’ plates. The teachers realized that she wasn’t eating anything at home. It reminded me of my father, who was a prisoner of war during WWII. He spent nine months in a prison camp on the island of Singapore. When the war ended, he weighed less than 100 pounds. He said that for years afterwards, he never felt like he could eat enough. That is what this young girl was going through. As soon as she got the chance to eat, she couldn’t stop.

The third story comes from Doris—one of the teachers in Belen, the poorest neighborhood in Iquitos. She spoke with me as we were installing a computer lab in our school there. Doris thanked me for the feeding program and told me that before the program, the school did not have any behavioral problems with the kids. She said that they all sat in class quietly listening. But, when we started the feeding program, their behavior changed completely. They became like wild animals. They would not sit still. They talked in class. They were disorderly. She realized that before the feeding program, they did not have enough energy to be rebellious. They didn’t have enough energy to move. Once they started eating, their behavior changed and they became kids again. Her face was filled with tears and a smile as she declared, “Now they’re acting like kids are supposed to act!”

Kids are supposed to smile and play

When we returned to Peru, I asked God to get the feeding program back up and running. As such, I was excited when I heard that we could have food this year, if we could pay to get it out of the port. A $4000 expense ($4500 minus the $500 I’d already been given) was not in the budget. But, what could I do? I thought about the kids with stunted growth and the ones who are too tired to play, and I made the decision to pay the money and feed the kids for one more year. On top of that, we paid another $3000 to buy Christmas gifts for the children who don’t have a Latin America Childcare Sponsor. The outlay of cash was making my Midwest conservative head spin right off my body! Having said that, let me now ask for prayer—that God would pay for it all. Pray that He would open the windows of heaven and confirm our decision to spend the money. And, if you feel God calling you to join us by making a special gift, please do so! You can make a special donation by clicking the donations tab on the top-left of the blog. Please send me a note, also, to let me know what the donation is for. Thanks!

For another great story about the feeding program, please see Lena’s blog entry: http://billandlena.blogspot.com/2009/11/land-of-living.html

For some pictures of the program click here: https://picasaweb.google.com/103355663653193891711/FeedingInIquitos

https://picasaweb.google.com/103355663653193891711/FeedingTheChildren

20 Fabulous Years

Bill and Lena - Dec. 14, 1991

Yesterday, Lena and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. I'm grateful to God for a wife that is spiritual, fun and gets better looking every day. I'm a blessed man!

One of the funny "wedding stories" has to do with the eating of the wedding cake. Lena and I were blessed to have two receptions. The first one was in Cleveland, immediately following the wedding. As is my nature, we were very proper in that ceremony. I'm not a big fan of newly married couples displaying some kind of hidden aggression in their first hours of matrimony. The second reception was held in Cincinnati, the day after the wedding. It was for our Cincy friends who couldn't make the drive to Cleveland. My mother insisted that we wear our wedding garb to give it an official feeling. To add to it officialness, we replayed the cutting of the cake for everyone. But, this time it was a lot more relaxed. As I recall, my brother-in-law Bob lead the call for something more fun than our politeness from the day before. Others joined in and I began to see a playful gleam in Lena's eye. She went into a wide-up like a major league pitcher and I knew I was in trouble. Bob saw it too and had his camera ready. That is how we got my favorite picture from our wedding. After Lena pelted me with the cake, it was my turn. I couldn't smash it in her face. So, I rushed forward and kissed her--smearing it all over her face. It's a good image of our marriage--a mix of play and proper, fun and fancy. I'm looking forward to 20 more years of the same!

The pics below tell the story in order:

Lena contemplates the attack while the crowd is egging her on.

She makes her move!

Bill responds with a kiss, smearing icing on Lena's face.

It tastes so good, we opt for another kiss.

Here are some pics of the wedding: https://picasaweb.google.com/103355663653193891711/WeddingShots


In my FaceBook post, I dedicated a song to Lena. If you want to hear the song and view some really big hair, check out the Forester Sisters' youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpOwHifKxyc&feature=related

Waiting for Worship: Raising Kids to Worship with their Hearts

This from Lena:

This morning we enjoyed a family time of worship together.  These days it is harder to assemble, with sleepovers and busy teen social schedules, but we still manage to squeak out some time many Saturday mornings to worship together.  We started this custom years ago with a promising vocalist of 12 years and novice drummer on a Costa Rican bongo.  It was stop and start, especially with two toddlers, but we have been richly rewarded with Hannah showing great promise as a lead vocalist in worship, with a couple of instruments budding, and Colton is now an intrepid percussionist.

But the heart of this--the desire we had--was to nurture a heart of worship in our children.  We raised Hannah and Colton in a constant environment of communal worship in Chi Alpha campus ministries, and when we switched ministry focus, we didn't want to lose that focus.  I see a natural progression in the lives of Hannah and Colton, that now it is THEM who desire to worship and adore, and their own relationships with the Lord now drives their worship.

But I remember the squiggly days--especially because I see it lived out in Abi and Will.  They struggle to stay with us.  Many of the songs aren't familiar, as Sunday mornings are done in Spanish and apart from the parents, so they are learning other songs.  We try to let the little ones do their thing.  They can hit a drum, shake a shaker, dance a dance, or whatever, but they have to invest.  Every Saturday that we manage to gather them up for worship, it is so similar.  I see the little ones slip away in their minds, and have to call them back, and it is not exactly fun or worship-rewarding on my end, but I look at my two big ones, and praise God that they found their way to Him in the middle of this environment, and I keep setting them on the right track, waiting for worship to spill out of their little hearts.  Some children are like open spiritual magnets, and draw the Lord into their hearts like sponges.  They easily slip into His presence, and it is a breeze.  Others are more cerebral, and require more patience, but that doesn't mean they aren't right there in worship.  Just different.

But when worship arrives, and time stops, and they slip into that timeless place where God touches their hearts and they are talking to Him and walking with Him---that is the gold of parenting.  Sometimes it feels like I am serving them carrots and peas for the umpteenth time, following that old principle that if you expose them to a vegetable enough, they will eventually like it and get used to the taste.  Repeated exposure.  But the moment that they find out that worship is like a fresh orange of life and refreshment, and not a rutabaga, there is celebration in the house.  Don't give up. Wait for worship.  It is worth it.