Bolivian Journal 6, September 10, 2005
Hello friends,
Welcome to Bolivian Journal edition 6 with a reflection and an anecdote to keep in touch with you.
Thus far we have been blessed with relatively good physical health. Good health was one of our prayer requests when we left and it continues to be an item for prayer. So if you have been praying your prayers have been answered and appreciated. All three of us had an initial period of adjustment to the thinner air at higher altitude. For the first while we had less energy and needed more sleep than usual. It is difficult to say when this adjustment ended but we seem to be back on track now. The Bolivian food and contaminated water sometimes cause problems for Canadian stomachs, including our own. Thus far Anna, with no reaction, has been the healthiest in this area. Susan and Kent, a couple of times, have unknowingly eaten something they shouldn´t have and been punished with a night full of trips back and forth to the bathroom. Don´t worrry I am not going to go into details for fear it might upset you too! Susan has suffered a few of days of headache sickness due to what we suspect is an allergy to msg ( it means for her: "Migraine Suffering Guaranteed"). So overall our bodies are doing well. This is so important as it enables us to enjoy and accomplish our work without the hindrance of poor health.
It has problably happened to you that through one of the multitude of little decisions and events that you realized that you are being cared for by someone much bigger than yourself.
For several days Susan had been telling me that I badly needed a haircut. I finally determined to heed her advice. I was going to meet a new acquanitance, Freddie, at La Casa de Amistad. Due to an unforseen delay I had an hour to wait until Freddie arrived for our visit together. The opportune time had arrived for the haircut. I decided to walk to Avenida Ayachucho. From our trip three years ago, I recalled there was a reasonable barbershop somewhere along this street. On my way to Ayachucho, after only less than a block, I came across three barber shops within a third of a block of one and other. For a few minutes I headed on to Ayachucho but decided to turn back and have another look. I gazed into each shop on my way past. Again I turned and strolled slowly by. The first shop looked to be the smallest and dingiest.The second one too was small but there were two barbers and a little more light.The third shop was four or five times larger than the first two put together and seated were two or three men waiting for their turn. The third shsp looked more expensive than the first two. Being a cheapskate, the possible variation in price was a factor to me. I know this is ridiculous since it would mean about a dollar one way of the other. It sounds like more to the spendthrift if you think in terms of six or seven bolivianos diffference.
I was indecisive. I hesitated. (What else is new?)I could forget the whole project, but then I had to face and deal with Susan should I return home unshorn. This could be worse than the haircut! With all the blind boldness of a stanger in a strange land (an obvious gringo foreigner and cultural idiot in the midst of native Bolivians ) I rushed in where even angels might fear to tread. The middle barbershop/peluqueria was my choice. One of barbers smiled kindly and motioned gently to me to sit until he was finished with his present work. As I sat and stared blankly at local newspaper headlines ( an announcement of yet another presidential candidate from yet another party) I heard the music coming from the shop radio. I thought I could recognize the tune but could not understand the words. It was nice music. It sounded like something I had heard earlier that week. Now it was my turn to be butchered, or rather barbered. After sterlizing his instruments by passing them through the flame of a very small torch, the barber began. The music again took my mind away. I recognized the tune and the words this time. "El es el Rey. El es el Rey." ( He is the King.He is the King.) The four or five year old boy, whom I guessed to be the barber´s son, was moving and singing with the music. "El es el Rey.El es el Rey. El es el Rey de mi vida."( He is the King. He is the King. He is the King of my life.) Hey! I imagined I was in Calama church getting my hair cut and worshipping with the Spanish congregation. The barber and I shared a some small talk about the music being Christian and where we each attended church. The haircut was done. Perfect - short all over and even, with no loose pieces. Susan would be happy.
The price was right: five bolivianos, about 75 or 80 cents Canadian. I will go back there next time. I was happy too. All went well.
But more than all this, it was one of those times. It was one of those moments of knowing I was cared for by Someone else (besides Susan that is). Jesus says: " And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered." (Matthew 10:30 )
I hope you know the same blessing.
In His service,
Kent
Welcome to Bolivian Journal edition 6 with a reflection and an anecdote to keep in touch with you.
Thus far we have been blessed with relatively good physical health. Good health was one of our prayer requests when we left and it continues to be an item for prayer. So if you have been praying your prayers have been answered and appreciated. All three of us had an initial period of adjustment to the thinner air at higher altitude. For the first while we had less energy and needed more sleep than usual. It is difficult to say when this adjustment ended but we seem to be back on track now. The Bolivian food and contaminated water sometimes cause problems for Canadian stomachs, including our own. Thus far Anna, with no reaction, has been the healthiest in this area. Susan and Kent, a couple of times, have unknowingly eaten something they shouldn´t have and been punished with a night full of trips back and forth to the bathroom. Don´t worrry I am not going to go into details for fear it might upset you too! Susan has suffered a few of days of headache sickness due to what we suspect is an allergy to msg ( it means for her: "Migraine Suffering Guaranteed"). So overall our bodies are doing well. This is so important as it enables us to enjoy and accomplish our work without the hindrance of poor health.
It has problably happened to you that through one of the multitude of little decisions and events that you realized that you are being cared for by someone much bigger than yourself.
For several days Susan had been telling me that I badly needed a haircut. I finally determined to heed her advice. I was going to meet a new acquanitance, Freddie, at La Casa de Amistad. Due to an unforseen delay I had an hour to wait until Freddie arrived for our visit together. The opportune time had arrived for the haircut. I decided to walk to Avenida Ayachucho. From our trip three years ago, I recalled there was a reasonable barbershop somewhere along this street. On my way to Ayachucho, after only less than a block, I came across three barber shops within a third of a block of one and other. For a few minutes I headed on to Ayachucho but decided to turn back and have another look. I gazed into each shop on my way past. Again I turned and strolled slowly by. The first shop looked to be the smallest and dingiest.The second one too was small but there were two barbers and a little more light.The third shop was four or five times larger than the first two put together and seated were two or three men waiting for their turn. The third shsp looked more expensive than the first two. Being a cheapskate, the possible variation in price was a factor to me. I know this is ridiculous since it would mean about a dollar one way of the other. It sounds like more to the spendthrift if you think in terms of six or seven bolivianos diffference.
I was indecisive. I hesitated. (What else is new?)I could forget the whole project, but then I had to face and deal with Susan should I return home unshorn. This could be worse than the haircut! With all the blind boldness of a stanger in a strange land (an obvious gringo foreigner and cultural idiot in the midst of native Bolivians ) I rushed in where even angels might fear to tread. The middle barbershop/peluqueria was my choice. One of barbers smiled kindly and motioned gently to me to sit until he was finished with his present work. As I sat and stared blankly at local newspaper headlines ( an announcement of yet another presidential candidate from yet another party) I heard the music coming from the shop radio. I thought I could recognize the tune but could not understand the words. It was nice music. It sounded like something I had heard earlier that week. Now it was my turn to be butchered, or rather barbered. After sterlizing his instruments by passing them through the flame of a very small torch, the barber began. The music again took my mind away. I recognized the tune and the words this time. "El es el Rey. El es el Rey." ( He is the King.He is the King.) The four or five year old boy, whom I guessed to be the barber´s son, was moving and singing with the music. "El es el Rey.El es el Rey. El es el Rey de mi vida."( He is the King. He is the King. He is the King of my life.) Hey! I imagined I was in Calama church getting my hair cut and worshipping with the Spanish congregation. The barber and I shared a some small talk about the music being Christian and where we each attended church. The haircut was done. Perfect - short all over and even, with no loose pieces. Susan would be happy.
The price was right: five bolivianos, about 75 or 80 cents Canadian. I will go back there next time. I was happy too. All went well.
But more than all this, it was one of those times. It was one of those moments of knowing I was cared for by Someone else (besides Susan that is). Jesus says: " And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered." (Matthew 10:30 )
I hope you know the same blessing.
In His service,
Kent
posted by Bibliomaniac | 7:09 a.m.
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