It’s still hard to believe that we were almost done in by corn meal in the highway, unbelievable.  As I’ve been going around getting estimates from mechanics I’ve been looking for surprised reactions when I’d describe what happened.  I wasn’t getting them, until finally after retelling the story to one guy I said, “How strange, no?” And he responded, “What? That? No, not here, that kind of stuff happens all the time.” Wow.

Now we are without a car and Tara is 2-3 weeks away from giving birth.  We are a bit stressed, to put it mildly. We’re hoping that the insurance company deems the car totaled, if not, it looks like we won’t get any sort of payment for the damage.  We don’t have the information for the truck that dropped it’s corn, and it’s their insurance that is supposed to pay out, so ours won’t.  If it’s totaled, they will apparently.  Also, there is a 24 hour cab service right around the corner from us, so if Tara does go into labor we’ll have an emergency option if there isn’t a vehicle available to us to drive.

Here are the pictures I took with my phone.  The highway is already mostly cleaned up at this point in the photos, but you’ll be able to get the picture.  After the backhoe picked up all the mushed corn the firemen cleaned the highway down with their hoses.  It happened at about 10:40 am.  I didn’t get home until about 6:00pm with the tow-truck.

We remain steadfast in our burden to reach the urban poor with the Gospel and will continue to pursue that as we return to the United States.  Right now we don’t know what our future holds, we are continuing to discuss ministry opportunities with GBIM.  For the immediate future we will continue the basic ministries here in La Plata and prepare the people here for our permanent departure.  There are many administrative details as well that need to come to a close over the next few months before we leave.  We will not be able to leave the country until we have all the necessary paperwork for our new-born, as soon as we have the paperwork in hand we will return.

You can read Nate and Deb’s message on the website as well, Click Here to Read it.

You can read Rich and Jil’s message here as well.

Please pray for us as often as you remember us.  With a new born coming (very) soon and this new transition in our lives, we need all the prayer support you can give.

Thank you all who have prayed for us over the last six months. Over the last few years I’ve learned to understand the goodness of God in many different ways. My faith has matured, understanding that despite whatever circumstance I may be in that the fact remains that God is good, and that never changes. Over the last five years our lives have been so unsettled, moving often, unsure of the future, and in the thralls of culture shock despairing. The fact that God is good has carried us through many trying times, we can trust him.

We praise God for all he has done and will continue to do.

We obtained our first Argentine Visa 2 years ago (crazy story), and they were set to expire on February 5th.  We have been back in the U.S. since the end of October and originally planned to return to Argentina at the end of February, thinking that once we got our Argentine National ID, that that document would automatically renew our Visa.  We misunderstood.  We’d have to return before the Feb 5th (assuming we had all our funding in order) to renew the Visas.  A couple days before we left Argentina last October I was reviewing the instructions for renewing our visa and saw an asterisk I hadn’t seen before, reading the fine print I saw that there was a tiny rule that required renewals to be submitted no later that 10 days before the expiration! Whoa, we were planning on coming back just a couple days before, good thing I saw that!

As January arrived and we had a firm outlook on how our funding was coming in, we realized that we wouldn’t be able to return by the end of January as hoped.  But, we had this Visa issue to take care of.  After two visits to the Argentine Consulate in Washington D.C. we were told we could not renew our Visas in the United States, that we had to be in Argentina to renew them.  We could start all over again with new visas, but, we were told things have changed in the last two years and would take a long time to get them…no thanks (on several levels).  So, we flew back to Argentina last Monday, a week ago today.

As we approached Argentina I got more and more anxious.  Will immigrations even let us into the country with our visas so close to expiring? What about our National ID’s, Tara’s had already expired?  Will we be able to get all the additional documents we’d need in time? Is there some new requirement we aren’t aware of? Will it even happen?

The first step was getting through immigrations at the airport.  We went through the Argentine line, because we had National ID’s.  Tara’s was expired, but the lady allowed us in without any problem and even waived the $100 entry fee for Tara (because her ID was expired).  It went really smooth.  We made it back to La Plata late that night and were in line at the next step by 6:00am the next morning.  We needed to get a police background check.  While we were sitting in line waiting (we were 6th in line) the security guard came out and announced that they would not be able to attend anyone, the power was out and there was no indication that it would be back on anytime soon!  What!! Most everyone left, but a few remained, the guard did eventually say that if the power came back on we’d be able to get in.  Tara and I stayed and prayed.  A half hour later, at 8:00am, when the office was supposed to open, the power came on.  Ten minutes later we were in and got finger-printed.  From there we went to another government office to get a certificate that certified our “home” address in Argentina.  Tara and I had all we needed to get ours, which is what I thought was all we needed.  But, the lady then asked for the info for the boys, which we had but didn’t have copies of.  We needed copies.  She decided to waive that and gave them their certificates too (that is unheard of!).  The next day (last Wednesday) we went to go pick up our background checks, the question that remained for that was if our fingerprints were taken well enough for them to complete the check, they were.  From there we went to the  Immigrations office to begin the BIG renewal.  I had no idea what to expect.  We had visited the office last October to find out some info and discovered that all our documents were in Buenos Aires (where we had done our initial paperwork), and that in order to do the renewal here in La Plata they would have to submit a paperwork transfer request to get the to La Plata.  Did the lady actually do it? Did they get lost? Did they actually arrive in La Plata? These are no simple questions! The bureaucracy and inefficiency are notorious here in Argentina (in any 3rd world country), for people to do what they say they will do and that things would happen in a timely fashion are the exception.  After waiting in line, it turned out that it was too late in the morning and we had to come back first thing the following day.  On Thursday we arrived at 9:00am like we were told, but the person that was to see us wasn’t in the office yet, an hour later she arrived.  I was told to go to her office to start the renewal when I asked if my whole family should go, the guy said, “What?, I thought it was just for you.” I had told him specifically on several occasions that my whole family needed renewals.  He took me down to the office and the conversation revolved around whether they’d be able to do all of us now or not…ugh, the tension standing there listening.  I was told to go back and wait upstairs…ugh, what was going to happen?  It is entirely nerve-racking to have your whole “Fate” in the hands of one government worker.  There’s really nothing you can do other than look cute with your family of little kids and hope they like you enough to not put you off.  (oh, and there’s the whole trusting in God thing–thats hard to do.)  She came upstairs this time and they decided that we all could get them renewed right then!  WoW!  So we started all the paperwork…when the Bombshell hit and my heart went through the floor and my head about exploded!  She asked me for my Argentine background check, which I had, then she asked me for my background check from the U.S….”What!?” I thought!  Oh my goodness! We don’t have that! I didn’t know we needed it, the instructions didn’t say we needed it!!  I then calmly said to her (while my heart was racing and my hands were starting to shake), “The instructions said that we only needed the Argentine background check.”…..a moment passed as she thought about that and then responded,”Oh, ok then.” And she proceeded to finish all our paperwork and stamp our renewed Visas in our passports!  Wow!

I can’t begin to express to you how amazing it was to be able to do all this as quickly as it was done and smoothly it was done.  Every step of the way God was smoothing it out.  Now, we confidently go back to the U.S. working hard to find the funding that God has already prepared for us.

My Story

The Grace basketball team was traveling on winter vacation playing games and a tournament out in California in January 1997. We were in sunny Southern California, practicing in the arena of a basketball “Mecca” of sorts, Pauly Pavilion, the practice was intense as we were preparing for a tournament. I don’t remember what incited it–perhaps a rough play, terse word, hard foul, who knows–but Bert Mclaughlin my teammate did something to set me off. We got in a fight, pushing, screaming, and throwing punches. After we were separated I stormed off the court to the locker-room (actually I think the coaches ejected me). I stood there all alone fuming, unable to settle down, punching the lockers.

I wasn’t doing well, that’s an understatement. Inside I was dying. I did well at hiding the turmoil inside, but I was reaching a breaking point. All the crisis and baggage in my life were rising to a climax. I didn’t know who I was, what I came from, or why things happened to me in the past, and I had no one. I had no one because I couldn’t trust anyone. Everyone that was close to me had in some way harmed me to the core. In January 1997, I was rushing, snowballing towards destruction. I couldn’t keep it together anymore. It was just a matter of how it was going to look when it all exploded out.

Standing there in that locker-room, I wanted out. I was done. I wanted to escape. In a daze I noticed an emergency exit in the locker room. How nice would it be to just walk out, walk away from it all. If there was ever a place to get lost, to run away, it was in L.A. I wasn’t a minor anymore, I could start a whole new life starting out on the streets. I wouldn’t have to fight anymore, I could just go, I could just let go…Somehow, I made it back to school.

I was surprised to hear Dave Plaster’s voice on my voice-mail when I returned to school. I couldn’t believe it. He was short and stout. I was tall and athletic. He was an intellectual teaching Theology, I wasn’t that intellectual and I had to take the class because it was required. He seemed ‘geeky’ to me and I was a ‘jock’. There was really nothing we held in common, other than the fact he liked following the basketball team. Just before leaving on the basketball trip with the team I had visited my sister at Christmas. At that time in my life she was the last person I could trust, so I dumped some ‘baggage’ on her. She more or less freaked out, though she held it together for me so I didn’t realize it until later. She had asked me if there was anyone at Grace that I felt that I could talk to. After thinking about it, I mentioned his name. I had never spoken to him, only seen him around campus and lurking at basketball games and basketball events. I had him in class but sat way in the back and successfully avoided any interaction. But, despite there being seemingly no commonalities between us, there was something about him. There was something real and genuine about him. As it turns out, my sister called him while I was away.

I didn’t return his call. A couple of days later I got another message from him. I didn’t return that call. Then, one day while I was in my dorm room, he called again (this was before the days of caller ID in the dorm rooms). I actually had to talk to him…ohh nooo! Now I had to go see him, so I agreed to meet with him one time. His persistence paid off. I was dying inside and desperate, I was wanting to reach out to someone, anyone. By God’s grace he brought Dave into my life, for some reason I decided to keep trusting him, to keep meeting with him. Eventually, the relationship that was started kept going and he became the most important person in my life. He was the hands of God in my life, lifting me out of the muck and sludge, guiding me through the morass that was in my soul.

The Background

To understand the impact Dave had in my life you need the context, where I had come from. I had come from a broken family. My parents divorced while I was young. After a slew of custody battles and many tumultuous heart-rending situations (that’s an understatement), the courts finally settled that I, along with my three other siblings, would live with my mother. Eventually, the two oldest siblings went back to live with our father (we were about 4 hours apart) and I wouldn’t see any of them for almost 10 years. This wasn’t an amicable separation, so you can imagine the impact this had on a young boy. Being a working single mother was difficult for my mom. She was gone a lot and even when we were together she was absent, her mind was elsewhere. I know now that she loved us, and still does, and that she did the best she could, but we not only grew up without a father but we practically grew up with out a mother as well.

You can imagine then the difficulties that would arise as we went through adolescence. Putting it mildly, there were fireworks in the house. During my sophomore year of high-school a local adult took me under his wing. He saw the situation I was in as a young man and reached out. He became a mentor, and more than that, during those crazy times in high-school he became like a father to me. The summer between my Sophomore and Junior years of high school my mother moved us to another city for work. She had been commuting for awhile. This move was catastrophic for me. It removed the only support I had. Just a few months prior, the relationship between my older sister and our mother exploded so I didn’t see much of her anymore. I went from a Christian school to a huge public school of at least 2500. I went from a support network that included Christian friends and their parents, my teachers (who were instrumental in my life), and this relationship with my mentor to….nothing. I was alone with my mother in a new town, not knowing anyone and not having a church. It was a recipe for disaster.

Although we moved about an hour and a half away, this friend of mine kept visiting me, calling me, counseling me and guiding me. The relationship between my mother and I quickly deteriorated. She put the blame on him and obtained a restraining order against him. Then things just fell apart. Fortunately, at about this time one of my older brothers, who we hadn’t seen in a long time, got married, needed help, and came to live with us. This provided a respite; all our turmoil was put on hold. During this time it was proposed that I move back and attend school at my old high school for my senior year. My mother, after much deliberation, decided against it.

A month before school started my friend told me he could help me go to the courts and make it happen. I was visiting my father that summer for the first time in years, he said he’d help. With my father’s help, which was important from the court’s perspective, I successfully petitioned the courts to emancipate myself from my mother. For the remaining few months before I turned 18 I had mandatory visits with her, they didn’t turn out well. We ended up not talking for almost 4 years.

My senior year of high school was amazing. I was independent. I had a car. I was working as a waiter. I had a lead in a play. I was the star on the basketball team. I was able to go and do things with my friends I was never able to before. It was an unforgettable year. But, little did I know, there was a ticking bomb under the surface of this man and his family. I had some conflict with his wife, even some intense conflict, but it was nothing like my old life and the conflict in that. I didn’t realize that almost all of this man’s attention and affection had been turned to me. She didn’t hate me, but it was as if she hated that I was there, stealing all that attention and affection from her. You can see where this is going. After graduation, right before I was to leave for college, the church’s youth went to a conference. The night before it started, I woke up in the middle of the night to find this man’s hands down my pants. He sexually assaulted me. I was in a fog. I couldn’t tell anyone. He was an authority figure. At the conference he eventually took me aside and apologized, and that’s that, right?

This man, no, this father-figure of mine, betrayed me to the core of my being. I went off to college almost immediately after that conference. Come Thanksgiving I had no where to go. I hadn’t gotten to know any friends well enough yet to be invited to their house, I didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to go to my real father’s place, and my mother wasn’t talking to me…I had to go back to his place. Nothing happened other than having to act as if everything was ok and as if nothing ever happened. But, that was the last time I would ever go back there or even see them (on purpose) until I confronted him years later with Dave by my side.

Dave Plaster

There is so much more of the story to be told, but this gives you an idea where I was at when Dave came into my life. I still don’t know why I trusted him and confided in him, other than that it was an act of God and that Dave was just that sort of man, a genuine man of God. Of course, looking back, I can see that our relationship was always on ‘a trial basis’, I still always had my guard up to one extent or another. I couldn’t let him too close.

He never saw it that way. He was all in from the very beginning. He seemed so strange to me at times. He was always so glad to see me. Why? It was as if he was proud to just associate himself with me. I’d see him in the gym after a basketball game, eyes just beaming. I’d see him in the hall between classes, eyes just beaming. I’d see him at church, eyes just beaming. He always looked forward to the next time we’d see each other. Why? I can see his finger wagging in the air right now laughing and saying, ‘You can’t get rid of me!’.

Almost every Wednesday night for about 4 years we’d meet together at 9:00pm in his office. With no real agenda, at least none detected by me, we’d just talk. It was in these 1 hour, frequently 2 hour, and at times longer “get-togethers” that Dave guided me through the mine field that was inside of me. I was so confused. I didn’t know who I was, what I came from, where I came from. I was confused about my sexuality. I was confused about my past, my present, my future. I was asking about God, who He was and why He would allow these things to happen…I never asked those questions out loud, but Dave would answer them, not with theological arguments (we rarely ever talked about “Theology”), but with what he did and who he was. There were moments when I would weep like a baby as I tried to talk of past hurts and there were moments of anger at those who had hurt me and at God for allowing it. He usually would give me a big hug after each of our meetings, one time I remember refusing it and refusing any hug from him for several weeks. He understood. Oh, how I wish I could give him a huge hug right now.

One time when we were together I was talking about my future, whether or not I should teach physical education, or coaching, or sports management, or something else like that. He sat there listening to the things I liked to do and such and then said, “You can be a pastor,” with a straight face. I busted out laughing, “WHAT! No way, I could never be one of them.” Those people are important people, they’re leaders, have a relationship with God I could never have! He stuck to his guns and reiterated it saying amazing things about me that I couldn’t believe of myself. He blew my mind by saying those things. I said, ok, maybe a youth pastor, he said maybe, but I can see you being a pastor one day. I dismissed it as talk from a crazy man, but the seeds had been planted. And these were the seeds: God is good. God will heal me. God has a plan for me.

As you can imagine, my relationships with my mother, my father, and that ‘friend’ were all important themes in my life. He helped me get back in touch with my mother and begin that relationship again (and that was not an easy road). He helped me navigate through all the feelings and issues I had with my father and how to start that relationship anew as I was coming into adulthood (and that was not an easy road either). He helped me wade through all the muck and slime that was left on me from that ‘friend’ of mine. I mentioned one time that I thought I needed to confront him. Dave thought it was a good idea but didn’t push me. He knew I had to do it in my time and said he would always be there and ready whenever I decided to. Eventually that time came, 10 years after the incident, Dave was by my side. The plan was for me to say my bit, what I had prepared to say, I would then leave the room and Dave and another friend would continue talking with him and follow up. Dave was my voice, he was my defender.

After Tara and I left Winona Lake I’d call him from time to time and talk about stuff. Slowly, as time passed, those phone calls and emails became fewer and fewer. I don’t do well at keeping up with long-distance relationships. Every time I’d get back in touch I’d be so apologetic, saying things like, “I’m so sorry for not keeping in touch, I feel horrible that I haven’t kept in touch more often.” He’d respond by saying something like this, “Brian, I’d love hearing from you more often, but it doesn’t matter, I love you and nothing is going to change that.” But the kicker is, he’d say it without any guilt or shame in his voice; he never made me feel bad about it. He never made me feel bad about anything, missing a meeting, interrupting in the middle of a busy day in the office, anything.

The Gift

God brought Dave into my life at the most crucial moment. Dave was a gift from God to me, to all of us. And Dave gave so much. I would not be the man, the father, nor the husband I am today without Dave having been in my life. I would not be where I am doing what I’m doing today without Dave. While Dave was still here I understood how important he was to me, I named one of my sons after him, but I didn’t grasp all that he had done. Moving overseas, being a missionary, and learning a new language is an insanely intense internal experience. You have moments questioning your worth, your ability, your intelligence. It hones in on the most minute issues in your life, in all your relationships, and magnifies them all. The level of difficulty of being a husband, father, friend, and teammate is ratcheted up exponentially.

When Dave died, a flood of memories started coming back to me, the things he said, the things he did, who he was. It was during one of the most difficult times I’ve had living overseas, I could hear him say, like he said on a number of occasions, “Brian, I’m proud of you, I love you.” It has so much weight in my life because Dave knew me, he knew practically everything about me, other than my wife there wasn’t anyone who knew more about my past, about my hurts, about what I struggle with. Hearing him say that about me gave me, and continues to give me, hope and confidence. It was as if Christ were saying that to me. Dave had given me one more thing: he had given me a real voice to hear; he had given me a real example to look at, and not just hear and see Dave, but hear Christ saying and being that to me. I have a flesh and blood example to look back to–I know Christ loves me because Dave did.

Dave would say to me, “You’re one of my own.” He is my spiritual father and his legacy continues to be lived out through my life. The people Tara and I touched while living in Philadelphia, the youth and men we are getting to know here in the shanty-towns of Argentina, all are directly connected to the life of Dave Plaster. Most importantly, I look at my sons, I don’t know what path God has for them but I do know the kind of man, the kind of husband, and father, I need to be for them. His impact will be felt for many generations to come.

Thank you Dave, we miss you, we will never forget you.

Dave officiated our wedding

Dave holding my son, Elijah DAVID (the world as the background is very appropriate I think)

Dave with my son Malachi

Other Places On-line to read about his impact:

An overview

Kary Oberbrunner

Aaron Crabtree

Tim Sprankle

Rhett Edwards

Gary Underwood

Nathaniel Smith

Caring Bridge Guestbook

FaceBook Group “Mentored by David Plaster”-lots of stories

FaceBook Group “In Memory of David Plaster”

Here’s a much better link http://www.fgbcworld.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=659

and here: http://www.fgbcworld.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=643

I’ve had a number of experiences now when I’ve been invited to parties and I’ve found they are both the most difficult but also the best times I’ve had talking and practicing the language.  Always the first 2 hours of the party are those most horrible 2 hours of my week/month.   These are people who I’ve established relationships with and now they’ve come to this party to relax and talk and have fun, not to expend a ton of energy trying to communicate to a foreigner.  Those first hours, ugh, I can’t tell you how many times someone has just turned away from me in, what I thought was, the middle of a conversation; or ignored something I said; or just plain obviously did not want to talk to me…ugh.  But, all that changes after about 2 hours..woohoo!  It’s amazing to see the difference, all of a sudden, after they’ve been drinking for awhile, the same people who were showing me the cold shoulder are chatting me up! You can obviously see that they are much looser, at ease, they don’t care about being understood, they just talk.  They all of  sudden don’t care how I sound, they just listen and chat.  It’s amazing the difference in atmosphere, and it’s amazing how it affects me to.  Their ease of spirit transfers over to me and I become much more at ease and am able to allow the language to flow out of my mouth.  Don’t worry, I’m not talking about me being drunk!  Rather, when the one who is listening doesn’t care about being understood things go so much easier…because I care about understanding.  I will ask them to repeat themselves, and they don’t care now, whereas before, before they had too much to drink, that annoyed them.  I’ve been around alot of different people in varying contexts who have been drunk to varying degrees and they all have been some of the best times I’ve had practicing the language.  I realize that these times are great for language practice but nothing more, they usually forget everything that was said or talked about by the next day.

In contrast, there’s another group of people that, I found, are even better at language practice;  Mature believers who have had experience with missionaries or foreigners.  Love exudes out of them, there seems to be no selfish motive to the relationship.  They don’t have the “what’s in it for me” or “what can I get out of this relationship” attitude.  They don’t care about being understood, but they care that you understand.  They don’t care what you sound like, but they want to understand and care that you can be understood.  They are the most gracious, patient, and loving people.  The best people to know and talk with.

Thanks for being such wonderful people!

]]> http://www.missionurban.org/blog/2010/10/18/drunks-can-help-you-learn-a-language/feed/ 1 http://www.missionurban.org/blog/2010/10/12/2010-southern-cone-church-planters-conference/ http://www.missionurban.org/blog/2010/10/12/2010-southern-cone-church-planters-conference/#comments Tue, 12 Oct 2010 16:43:20 +0000 Brian http://www.missionurban.org/blog/?p=1107 About 100 people from Chile, Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay came together in Buenos Aires this last weekend for the 2010 Grace Brethren Southern Cone Church Planters Conference, organized by the Fellowship of Grace Brethren Churches in Argentina and sponsored by Grace Brethren International Missions .

Leadership and Teamwork

Most everyone arrived by lunchtime on Saturday and that afternoon we were introduced to the theme of the week, Leadership and Teamwork. Three church-planting teams, our team here in La Plata Argentina, a multi-cultural church planting team in the city of Corrientes in Northern Argentina, and another multi-cultural church-planting team in Chile, all made presentations.  We all explained how each of our teams are structured, how we work as a team, along with advantages and disadvantages of these models and how we handle conflict.  After each of the presentations there was a robust question and answer time with each team.  This was a great way to start off the conference.

Each day would begin with a light breakfast of coffee and toast followed by devotions in small groups (according to the color of notebook one got when you arrived).  After going through a small study with a few others we would gather for worship.  The worship band from the GBC church in Marmol (in Buenos Aires) lead worship.  What an amazingly talented group, they did so well helping us focus on God through song and music, we had such a wonderful time in worship through the whole weekend!

On Sunday the main topic was looking at the scripture to see what God said about leadership and structure.  The role of elders and deacons in the church was looked at, as well as the role  of the giftings mentioned in Ephesians 4 (apostle, prophet, evangelist, shepherd, teacher) has in the local church and in church-planting.  What does God say about leadership and teamwork in the church? Understanding these principles is vital to the health and sustainability of new churches and works.  During the day there was also plenty of free time to strike up a game of “Bocha” (In the States we’d call it Bochi Ball), or a game of Soccer.  Of course any and all remaining time was well taken advantage of by all to catch up, talk, chat, hear about whats going on in each others lives, to encourage another and be encouraged…these relationship are what this conference is all about.  This kind of work can be so grueling, not many people can understand, really understand, this life, but for a few days out of the year we all can relax a little and fellowship with like-minded people going through the same issues together.

Monday (this last weekend is a long weekend every year, it’s a national holiday here in Argentina-not sure about elsewhere-called “Race Day”, celebrating the coming of the Caucasian race to South America), was the day to start packing up.  After devotions and packing and  another wonderful time of worship, we were left with a final challenge.  To those who were present from local churches, the challenge given to be a doer and put into practice what God had put on their heart this weekend.  Many others, myself included, were challenged by the remembrance of Samuel Dadje.  An amazing man of God who died just a couple months ago, he died due to complications of being caught in the desert in northern Africa for too much time.  He was on his way doing exploratory work, trying to see the best way to penetrate Libya with the Gospel.

Here are some pictures from the weekend

Our future was quite hazy, we had no idea how this was going to happen, but we knew that God had a plan and we trusted him.  It took four and half years after that weekend for all of us to finally be together working God’s fields in Argentina.  In those years we had plenty of time to doubt and wonder, could we raise the necessary funds?  Could we even learn the language? Will we even be able to work together?  And some how it all happened.  Oh, there’s a lot one can do to try and make things happen, but in the end the task was so huge and seemingly insurmountable–just getting here–that all we can do is marvel at how God brought it all together and continues to work in and through our team.

I mention this because we want to come back to Argentina, we want to finish this work God gave us as a team, but once again I’m looking to the future and it’s a bit hazy.  Oh, I know what it could look like, but there is a big number between here and there obscuring that view. We recently did our budget for the next 3 year term and we need $32,726 per year in new commitments to be fully supported.  That’s just us, Tara and I, that doesn’t include the Elledges who have just as big a number.  Granted that number is full support, we’ll be able to make cuts here and there and lessen that, but even so, thats a lot of money.

We’ll do our part, praying and working to find new support teammates, but in the end I’m reminded to trust in God and that nothing will really change no matter where we are…God will continue being Good, we will continue loving and serving him, working whatever fields he lays before us–no matter where we are.

We are in the process of planning our time back home and preparing to be gone from our ‘home’ for about 3 months, but as we come to this milestone I can’t help but look back at the last 3 years.   I am not the same person I was stepping off that plane in Costa Rica, as we started language school, and I’m not even the same person that stepped off that plane when we arrived in Argentina 2  years ago.  Personally, the challenge of learning a new language has been my biggest hurdle these past 3 years and is what God has used to change me. (the second challenging hurdle that has changed me has to do with learning to work on a Team, but that is post for another day).   Somewhere I heard said that

“everyone wants to be humble but no one wants to be humbled.”

On the scale of most difficult things to do in life, learning a new language (and culture) has to be up there.  It’s hard, and I don’t mean training for a marathon hard.  Every aspect of your person goes in to this process.  I’m a proud person.  I have strong opinions and like to talk and argue,  I can also be somewhat of a control freak.   Also, I love having a good time with people, I enjoy meeting knew people and getting to know them, having conversation.  Before leaving the U.S. I had a a place to fit in, a role,  job to do.  I had an expertise that I could work at and do very very well at.  I’m well read so I could talk to most people about most topics.  People respected me for what I did.  When we moved out of the country all that changed, all that got flipped on it’s head.

I no longer had control over anything, wasn’t good at anything, and looked like an imbecile.  When you first start to speak a new language you sound like a baby, literally.  When once you had  command over every sound that came out of your mouth when practically every word is chosen for a reason, now you can’t do that.  You sound like an idiot, you don’t even know simple words or expressions and when you do you say them in a way that sounds horribly wrong and unintelligible to the ears of native speakers.  It’s kinda like having a relationship with every single word in your head and at your disposal to use, from the very first time you heard and used it.  Each word is like a  container filled with all the positive and negative emotions of all the experiences you have had using that word in all different types of situations and contexts.  When you speak and think those relationships come to mind and you chose carefully what means what you want to say… Now, all that is useless. Useless.  You begin anew, with brand-new relationships with brand-new words, but, they are empty containers.  They have no meaning, no emotion behind them.  Everyday, every week, every month and year that passes by, every person I meet, every different situation or context I’m in, that container slowly is beginning to get filled with history and meaning and emotion.  But, right now, for me it pales in comparison to the depth and meaning and history and emotion- the relationship- I have with every English word I know.  Oh how I wish I could express myself to the depth that is there inside me.  But I can’t, not yet at least, slowly day by day I’m getting there, I wonder if I will ever be able to.

Every day is an exercise in going outside and looking/sounding stupid.  What good is my education? It sounds like I didn’t even get past pre-school.   That is wearing.  Emotionally you get rubbed raw really quick.  It’s fun at first and cute, but eventually you just want to talk, but can’t. When once I could have ‘small talk’ about sports or the weather or this or that, now you can’t.  When once people respected you for what you knew and what you did, now people have no idea what you know and what you do–you’re just there.  On top of that, given our work, you can’t really measure results , you can’t put a finger on what you’ve done or produced or accomplished, you plant seeds and plant seeds in people’s lives and pray that God moves.  This is a life intensely personal and internal.  A life of isolation and war to not give up.  Everyday reminds me that I’m not here for vacation, I’m not here for a ‘good time’, I’m not here because I feel good here, I’m not here because I don’t like there, I’m not here….If it were, I wouldn’t be here.  I’m here because this is the mission God put me on, and it’s freakin hard!

I wanted to be humble, but I never wanted to be humbled.  Never before have I had to trust in God as I do now.  Before I could depend on the ‘system’ (our culture, expectations, relationships, established societal norms, the language) to get by when push came to shove.  But when you are in another culture learning a new language, you are without all that (except in our case we have our team to rely on as well).  God is my only refuge, I keep coming back to that, and that is what gives me courage and strength.  Life is hard and really not all that fun, but my Joy is found in the Lord and his promise that one day all this will be worth it.

Our travels will follow a path around Maryland, Indiana, Ohio, Virgina, and Pennsylvania (with a quick hop to Sebring Florida, I hope), where most of all our supporting teammates and churches are.  Along the way we’ll be spending much needed and looked forward to time with our family and friends.  I can’t even begin to express to you how much we’ve missed our friends and family, missed our kids playing with cousins and the children of our close friends, missed our kids getting to know their grandparents, uncles and aunts.  We’re looking forward to our time with everyone.  We know it will be short, we know it will be sweet.  We miss you.  We can’t wait to see you.

Everyone was great and welcomed all of us from La Plata.  It took about a day and a half for everyone to get used to each other and the different groups started to mix more.  The first day we arrived about 11:30, we went out exploring the grounds, played some soccer, climbed trees, and molested a bees nest.  After lunch we went out and played some more soccer with the rest of the group, that was a perfect setting for our groups to start mixing.  That night we had a bonfire and after dinner it started to rain so we were stuck inside.  The night was filled with card games, table games, and later after midnight some organized group games.  It continued to rain for the next 24 hours almost flooding the whole place!  The little streams all around were overflowing their banks and forming little lakes in the fields, it was quite the sight to see.  So, we were stuck inside ALL DAY AND NIGHT Friday.  Whoa, talk about intense with no where to go.  We basically played table games all day (I can’t even begin to count the number of times I played UNO!).  Our kids still loved it, everyone enjoyed themselves and had a blast together.  Oh, and after inventing a soccer game in our sleeping room we broke a window…oops!  That came out of my pocket! Day three the rain had stopped and we were able to go back outside.  There was a tennis court nearby that wasn’t flooded so we were able to go there and play some soccer and other group games through-out the day.  That night, Saturday night, we went out for a night walk and the leaders had planned to scare the kids when we got back.  Zach, our intern, dressed up in black trash bags and put on a mask from a horror film.  When we returned the kids were told that the circuit had blown (all the lights were out) and that we all needed to stay in the meeting room so no one would get hurt.  After a few minutes Zach was seen walking by one of the big windows.  Kids screamed, but only a few saw him, the others were skeptical until he walked by the other big window when everyone saw him and freaked out, moments later he walked in….it was hilarious!  Sunday, the fourth day, everyone woke up late, had breakfast (coffee or tea or milk and toast), started cleaning up and packed, had our final session, ate lunch and said our goodbyes.

It was a wonderful time getting to know the kids better and introducing them to other believers.  On the first day we divided the kids into small groups, and every day after lunch we’d get together in these groups for a devotional.  Also, everyday, about an hour and half before dinner we’d all gather to sing songs and then someone would share from the scripture. During one of the devotionals, one of the leaders asked Junior if he would read the scripture verse we were to talk about.  He said, SURE!  The leader then told him it was in Ephesians.  Junior then responded “Whats that!”.  That was one of the dynamics of our group that I don’t think the others were ready for, being entirely un-churched and unaware of the basics, down to how to read the Bible,  what are chapters and verses and such.  There was a general understanding of Bible themes and ideas that were talked about that were over the heads of our kids.  Even so, what spoke the most to these kids were the amazing attitudes and loving embrace that came from everyone.

Prior to going we were a little concerned about the mixing of social classes at the retreat, our kids coming from the villa, the lowest socio-economic group, and most of the other kids, coming from the middle and upper classes.  Racism and prejudices are a fact of life here in Argentina. The lowest classes are immigrants from neighboring countries or are people with indigenous backgrounds from the interior of the country, all seeking a  better life in Argentina in the city.  Generally speaking the lower classes have darker skin (from indigenous decent) and the higher classes (from European decent) have lighter skin.  Although you hope that racism and prejudice do not exist in God’s church, we know that it does in small ways and at times in large ways, most of the time people are unaware of it’s presence.  Having worked amongst the urban poor in the States I have seen this first hand while interacting with suburban churches.  I didn’t see any of it or hear any of it at Camp.  Love and acceptance were what were spoken the loudest.

Here are some pictures from Camp: