Over the course of the last year, God has been prompting Jil and I to consider whether or not Argentina is the best place for us to be.  Obviously, with anything like this, there are numerous factors (too many to get into in an email like this), but at the heart of all of them, was an ever-increasing realization that Argentina was simply not where the Lord was continuing to lead us.  So, after much prayer, meditation on scripture, counsel, worship, journaling and many, many late night conversations, we’ve decided not to return for another term, as we’d originally planned.

We do not know yet exactly what is next, but we are excited, and eager to see how our great God continues to direct us.  We are in discussions with GBIM about possible ministry opportunities in the U.S., and will update all of you as soon as we have more definitive plans, maybe even with the next few weeks.

In the meantime, please don’t stop praying.  Tonight Jil and I head down to Argentina to wrap things up there.  Please, please pray that we will have good, Spirit-led interactions, even as we say many hard-to-say goodbyes.  Please also be praying that we will have success in selling our car and furniture, and closing up all loose ends.  And finally, please also be praying for our girls, Emerson and Greta.  They won’t be accompanying us on the trip.

Early on in our time in La Plata, Jil and I began to realize that we would never be able to give those we were working with more than we would end up receiving (either directly or indirectly) from them.  I recently heard someone say that “you just can’t out-give God”.  And he was right.  No matter how much we gave (and believe me when I say that we gave all that we had or knew to give), it always seemed that we ended up on the receiving end, blessed sometimes with wonderful friendships, other times with enriching cross-cultural interactions, and yet other times with deeper intimacy with our amazing God.  And in all of this, I can honestly say that it was an absolute honor and joy for us to have the privilege of building relationships with wonderful people half-way across the planet.

Thank you for your part in this.  We love you all.

So daughter #2 comes around, and what ends up happening?  Basically the complete opposite.  Emerson is not only so thrilled to finally have a little sister, but what’s more, it seems that seeing us interact with Greta brings Emerson some sort of joy and satisfaction that’s somehow different than anything she’s experienced before.  Even when it means that Emerson doesn’t get our sole attention, or doesn’t have exclusive access to play with us like she may have had before, it seems that she genuinely finds great pleasure in seeing us love and interact with Greta.  Obviously, there have been a few times when she’s been frustrated because she’s missed out on something because we have to “take care of the baby” or something like that, and I’m sure the frequency of those experiences will only increase as they both get bigger, and at some point I’m sure there will even be serious bouts of jealousy (they are sisters after all).  But, overall, I’d definitely say that the joy that Greta brings to Emerson’s life, and especially the joy that Emerson experiences by seeing us love Greta, far outweighs all of that.

As I’ve been struck seeing this repeatedly over the last 6 months, I’ve seen it affect my prayers for our neighborhood as well.  I’ve prayed and thought many times “Father, I have no greater desire right now than to see Your love – Your love that has completely changed my life – poured out on this neighborhood, on these people that You have blessed us with working with.”  Like the little child who brags about their dad to their friends, I just can’t wait to see these people know and experience my Dad.

This past weekend I got to see the 4 boys we took to camp experience, in grand measure, our Father’s love.  It was poured out through His church, through other kids their age (and the leaders who work with them) who are following Jesus.

And it was beautiful.  And it brought pure joy to my heart to see it.

1 John 1:3 – 4 “What we have seen and heard we announce to you too, so that you may have fellowship with us (and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ). Thus we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.”

So last week, as I open the door to 7 eager first-time guests, and hear a resounding chorus of “WOW!” “This place is amazing!” (the Spanish equivalents, of course), you’d think that’d be a goodish feeling for me, right? Or at least not something that would set off a constant, unceasing feeling of angst, right? Wrong.

The problem is that these 7 guests, are part of a group of boys in a nearby villa (follow this link if you’re not familiar with the Argentine term villa miseria) that I’ve been spending a lot of time with recently, where I’ve been repeatedly choosing to put myself in emotionally and physically exhausting situations, trying to talk with them as best as my Spanish will allow, trying to connect with them and gain some level of understanding of their lives, trying my absolute hardest to build relationships with them, to show them that we love them and want to serve them.

And the great part is… THEY’RE RESPONDING!! For whatever reason, they are really into us, and love it when we go there. When I make the four-block walk to their villa, as soon as the first kids see me (usually the littlest ones out playing in front of their houses), they immediately start yelling my name and waving – “RICHARD!!!!” “RICHARD!!!” (Richard just works better in Spanish than Rich) “Come over here!!!” And, almost always, they immediately reveal the true reason for their excitement with the follow up “Did you bring the little ball? Can I see it? Can we play? Come on!!!” (little ball referring to a hackeysack that I almost always carry with me, and all of the kids love playing with, even though their play rarely conforms to established international hackeysack regulations)

When I first started going there and hanging out with them, and seeing how drawn they all were to playing with the hackeysack with me, I sort of patted myself on the back, thinking “Wow, I really hit the jackpot with this thing. What a great idea!!” Since then, I’ve come to realize… pretty much ANY toy of ANY sort that I could possibly take with me for them to play with would illicit the same response. Sure, because it’s a ball that can be kicked similarly to kicking a soccer ball, they may be a little more inclined to play with it than, say, if I had a toy doll or something. But, for the most part, it’s just a toy, something they don’t have a ton of. And on top of that, it’s an older guy, likely around their dad’s age, who’s interested in them and willing to play with them and give them a few moments of attention.

These kids’ lives are so completely foreign to me, that I can’t even really begin to describe it. I could tell you about the shacks they live in, the communal toilet many of them use, the messed up families they come from, but the truth is, I don’t really have much of an understanding of all of that yet. I’m still learning. And what I learned this week (as I had 7 of them over for the first time, to start English classes in our house) is that our house is far and away the nicest house any of them have ever stepped foot in. It’s not that our house is some luxurious mansion or anything like that (it’s definitely nice and comfortable to us, but honestly, compared to any other house we’ve ever lived in before, it’s really pretty basic.) It’s not even that our house is the nicest in the neighborhood or anything like that (in the four-block walk from the villa to our house, the kids certainly would have passed homes much nicer than ours.) The thing is, these kids would never get into those houses. They’ve never seen inside them, and likely never will. But we’re inviting them into ours. We’re intentionally trying to bridge that economic gap, in order to build real relationships with them so that we might serve them.

So I guess the angst, the uneasiness that I haven’t been able to get away from since that moment, has a lot to do with a renewed/reinforced understanding of just how different things are for them, and consequently how difficult that could make it for us to really connect with them on a level where they trust us, and want to hear truth from us. Thankfully, even though we are the craziest, most incomprehensible lot they’ve ever met, I think they’re starting to realize that we care about them.

A week or so later I went back in to see him again, and asked how things were going, just sort of casually asking if he’s getting more business, that sort of thing, and he takes a much different tone, almost apologizing for the complaining he’d done before. Telling me about how his wife helped him realize that he’s just got to be patient, that he can’t have everything now, that it all just takes time, I’m guessing alluding to the hope that he won’t always have to work so many hours, that the store will steadily gain a stream of loyal customers, and that things will gradually just get better. The word he used repeatedly to express the eagerness to have everything now is an interesting word in Spanish – ‘ya’.

The word ‘ya’ means basically both ‘now’ and ‘already’, which is kind of fascinating. So, if I want Emerson to do something right away, I’d use this word. “Vení acá ya!” or “Come over here right now!” When someone rings your doorbell or knocks on your door, you say “Ya voy” or “I’m already coming” (sort of). It’s used in like a million different expressions, a million times a day, one of the most common words you could say. The store owner was basically telling me how he wants everything “ya”.

One of the most frequent battles that I face, on a pretty regular basis, is this same type of tension. I want to be able to fluently speak Argentine Spanish already, not a year from now, not 2 years from now, but yesterday, preferably. But I want to be able to speak it not just so that I can have some personal sense of accomplishment in the whole thing (though that would definitely be a nice bonus!), but because there are SO many people all around me that really need me to be able to speak it. And at times it’s hard not to get caught up and at least somewhat discouraged by this, by the seemingly endless process of language learning. But just then, right when the discouragement sets in (like tonight), I (hopefully) prayerfully remember – wait, it’s not really me they need is it? It’s the God that was able to do this so that His own greatness would be proclaimed and understood by people eager to hear about it in their own language. And a little perspective really is quite comforting.

This is the dining room.  It’s where the entrance to the house is.

There was this odd, empty cut-out in the dining room.  So we had some shelves put in.  It makes the dining room feel so homey.

The patio through the dining room.  It’s a great patio.  We had our first asado yesterday.

Off the dining room, there’s a little storage room.  Way bigger than a closet, not quite big enough to be a bedroom.

Through the dining room is the kitchen.  It’s such a great kitchen.

And through the kitchen is the living room.

And see those stairs in the last picture?  There’s a little loft in the living room.  It’d be a great playroom if it wasn’t for the amazingly unsafe rail.  So we use it for storage and now our clothes drying room.  Um, it doesn’t look so hillbilly in person…

Back through the kitchen, there’s a hallway to our rooms…

Here’s Em’s room…

And here’s our room…

And here’s the bathroom…

And that’s our home.  We’re still working on making it homey.  But we’re really happy to be here.

…that’s the best I can remember what Rich told me.

Well, they didn’t bring the kitty cat home.  Rich brought a sleeping Emerson home though.  And while she was sleeping, we talked about this little kitty cat and how sweet it was that Em wanted to take it home.  And how we’re planning on getting a cat soon anyway and how much nicer it would be to rescue one that was dumped on the side of the road than go to a nasty pet store.

So I told Rich maybe he should borrow the D’s car and see if he can find the cat again.  He agreed.

He came back 10 minutes later with the kitty cat.  Our new kitty cat.  Emerson named it Lola and couldn’t be happier to have her.

Here’s a video of Em’s response right after she woke up and saw it.

click here for “em and kitty”

Em has definitely adjusted, and is doing well. She’s still not a huge fan of speaking Spanish yet, but she’s coming around. The first few days she didn’t want anything to do with it, probably mostly because she’d forgotten most of what she learned in Costa Rica. Hey, just like us

We’re searching for a more permanent house, which has been a bit of a trying process of waiting on the Lord. But, even that has been good. There just aren’t a lot of options in the neighborhood. Please pray for us in regards to this. Our homes are going to be such a crucial part of our ministry here. There is a section of the neighborhood that is close to the Gorniks’ house that we would ideally love to find a house in. It’s an area that seems strategically perfect. But, so far, we haven’t found even one house in this area that is available for rental. EDIT: When I wrote this post Friday night (and was subsequently unable to post it, due to the aforementioned internet outages), there weren’t any houses available. Saturday a bi-weekly rental guide came out, and there were 7 rentals listed in this area. Amazing, praise God.

We’ve had some very good times together as a team, including not 1, but 2 asados. And man oh man, is Argentine meat amazing. It is every bit as good as people say it is.

asado #1

On Tuesday morning, as we were getting ready to head out for school, Emerson fell in our driveway and fractured her tibia.  She has to wear this cast for 2 1/2 more weeks.  And, because of the location of the fracture, she can’t put any weight on it.  Which means that our little girl who cherishes her increasing independence as much as anything, is now more or less completely dependent on one of us at all times (something emotionally tough and physically tiring for us as well as her, though so far she is definitely handling it like a real trooper).  This also means no school for Em, which means no school (or maybe/hopefully just LESS school) for me.  Now that we’re all a little more adjusted to “life with the cast”, we’re going to try seeing how Em does sitting in class with me tomorrow.  I’m not really expecting it to go too well, but we’ll see.  Maybe it’ll be doable.  It’s definitely worth a shot.  A funny, somewhat-related, side note:  Whenever Em and I go for walks, I used to talk to her almost exclusively in Spanish.  Inevitably she’d ask me “Why you speak in Spanish!?”  Then if I persisted she’d get a bit more testy “NO you speak in Spanish!”  She’s fine speaking in Spanish with Spanish-speakers, but she’ll have none of it with me.  So, we have a deal that while we’re in Costa Rica, I’ll only speak to her in English when we’re out, but once we get to Argentina, it’ll be all Spanish outside of the house.  She’s accepting the deal for now.  We’ll see how it goes when we get to Argentina

So, that’s our week.  I did have one cultural/personal observation to share that came out of the experience of Emerson breaking her leg.  My Latin self really has to work on the whole opinion-expressing thing that I mentioned in this post.  I’m just not a guy who readily, all the time, goes around offering my opinion on things, especially if I don’t feel that I’m in the “general expertise” level on a given topic.  If I do give an opinion or make a suggestion on something, generally, I use enough modifiers and qualifiers to potentially leave the other person completely confused on what my actual opinion is.  And, if I do offer a strong, clear, non-caveated opinion on a subject, then you can be pretty sure that not only is that what I really think, but also that I think it’s pretty important for you to know that I think it – for whatever reason.

So, again, as I mentioned in the other post, that’s just not the way Spanish speakers seem to talk.  Opinions are expected, and regularly and freely stated – in just about every scenario, and as I’m starting to see, even if the other person might not exactly know what they’re talking about.  Normally, I’m completely fine accepting this in Spanish conversations.  When I’m talking with someone, and they express a strong opinion, I’m usually able to logically process it, evaluate whether or not it’s likely something they really truly believe, and respond to it with a more-or-less appropriate response – usually thinking something like “cool, here’s another chance to practice using subjunctive”.  And since I’m generally in a conversational position of learning everything that I possibly can from whoever it is that I’m talking to (both culturally and linguistically), it hasn’t really posed any big problems.  Until Tuesday, when Em broke her leg.  As you may or may not know, when you break a bone, there may or may not be swelling or bruising.  In Em’s case there was no swelling or bruising of any sort.  So, as we got into a taxi to head to the hospital to have it x-rayed, the ensuing conversation went something like this (obviously all in Spanish):

Taxi Driver: “Where to?”
Me: “Clinica Biblica, please” (a private hospital that the school recommends we use because a doctor that works there also works 2 days a week at the language school and basically serves as the family doctor for most of the students)
TD:  “Is your daughter sick?”
Me:  “No, she fell and hurt her leg.”
TD:  (looking back to look at her) “Are you sure you want to go to Clinica Biblica? There’s another hospital closer.”
Me:  “Yeah, I’m sure.  Our doctor works there.”
TD:  “Is there any bruising or swelling?”  (at least I think that’s what he said at this point)
Me:  “No, but when she tries to walk on it, she starts crying pretty hard.  So, we want to get an x-ray”
TD:  “Oh, well with leg injuries, if there’s no bruising or swelling, I’m sure it’s not broken.  You just need to put ice on it for the first 48 hours, nothing else.  This happens all the time when guys are playing soccer.”
Me:  (having already heard another spanish-speaker assure me that her leg was not broken, and being pretty certain that there was something wrong, I find myself at this point having a bit of a hard time accepting his suggestion/opinion as just a genuinely, culturally appropriate way to express his concern for my daughter, and instead decide I’m done with the conversation.)

Maybe it was just all the emotion of the moment and the protective instinct that kicks in for a parent when their kid is hurt, or something like that, I don’t know.  But I do know, that while I didn’t outwardly express any anger or anything like that in the conversations, I was inwardly having a hard time, and growing increasingly defensive.  And I’m sure that if my Spanish were better, I’d have been more able to express why I was pretty sure there was a problem, maybe even preventing the conversation altogether.  But, all of that to say, I definitely still have a long way to go in this whole area.

There’s really only one ice cream chain here in Costa Rica.  Pops.  Some ticos pronounce like you would in English and some pronounce it like you would in Spanish (like popes, as in The Pope).  Anyway, Emerson prefers to call it The Ice Cream Store With The Letters.  Pops seems easier, but whatever.

So we took Em to Pops today, sort of as a weekend treat.  We got our ice cream and sat down.  Em sat there, eating her brown ice cream (2 year olds pick colors, not flavors), in the covered, open air dining area.  It was raining and pretty cool for CR, so everyone was sort of bundled up.  Most were drinking coffee.  I thought that maybe it was a little too cold for ice cream.  Then I looked around.  The ticos were thinking the same thing.  About us.  Most ticos think if you let your kids walk barefoot, INDOORS- even if it’s warm, they’ll get sick.  How horrible of us to be feeding our child ice cream on a chilly day.  Crazy gringos.

In my defense:

We promised her ice cream before it started raining.

She only ate 3 bites.

Chilly in CR equals 65 degrees.

Ice cream is good.