It’s been pretty dry here lately. So dry the grapefruits in the country are orange sized. No water = terrible grapefruit. So we prayed for rain.

I have some advice. Make sure you want what you’re praying for, because you just might get it. And then you can’t complain.

It rained for more than 24 hours this weekend. And I don’t mean it was cloudy and drizzly for 24 hours. I mean the heavens opened and poured out all it’s watery host upon us. And by 24 hours I mean 26 literal hours of continual downpour. Not the nice kind you can sleep to. The kind where you think your house will cave in. Then it would let up for a bit and just be a nice soaking rain. Ten minutes later my roof was collapsing again. This went on all day and all night and into the next morning.

In Richmond we close church if there’s a bit of snow on the ground. Here you close church because you can’t cross the river street. We didn’t cancel, but we were probably 1/5 our normal size. I walked to chuch in flip flops and my pants rolled up like shorts. I had to ford the street. Not only am I not lying to you, I’m not even exaggerating. If it sounds ridiculous that’s because it was. I’ve never experienced such continual, drenching, amazing, desperately needed rain before.

I didn’t take pictures because my camera isn’t made for snorkeling.

-j

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It’s really cold here right now.

And the thing is, it’s not even *that* cold. It gets down to the 50s in the evening and then into the 40s at night. Right now it’s 64 outside. But when you’ve just gone through four months of 110+ and then a couple really amazing months of high-80s, 60 feels downright frigid. When I’m bundled up and can’t get the circulation going in my hands is when I realize that this was only the first night of this, and I know it will be around until probably August. And my water heater doesn’t work.

On Thursday the 12th grade class presented to the rest of a school a project they’re doing in a neighborhood called Bañado (Bathed, ironically). I have never been there, so I can’t say for sure it’s the poorest neighborhood in the area, but I kind of think it is. The kids who live there are probably the ones on the streets juggling for change or selling sticker sheets for $.20 on the bus. The families come to our neighborhoods (and it’s not *that* close) on horse and buggy collecting plastic in giant sacks to take to the recycling plant for about $5 a week. That’s not even enough to feed them to sustain the work. The Seniors talked about the severe lack of education, medicine, clothing, toys, and cleanliness for the kids that live there. I decided I’m going to Bañado the next time Oscar goes to preach. I need to see what it’s really like.

I have known that while I’m in South America, I’m still very sheltered from the reality that is a developing nation. I mean, I can even get internet in my house if I want to spend the $15 a month on it, AND it’s cooler than the internet in the States cuz it’s moblie wifi (imagine your cell phone with internet was actually my computer). My neighborhood is clean, quiet, and probably mostly middle class. I still don’t know what it’s like to live for most Paraguayans.

Now that it’s cold and I am at least intellectually aware of what some living conditions are like, my prayers are for the kids who don’t have two big quilts and a nice, soft mattress to sleep on. Last night I was able to sleep in shorts completely toasty because of my blankets. I’m sure there were thousands of people who were shivering under a tattered rag, barely sleeping. I wonder how many of the kids I see on the street or bus barely have a roof to keep the icy rain out of the house while huddled on their concrete floor trying to keep warm.

Please pray for these kids as the Lord brings it to your mind, that He would keep them warm and send them blankets and shoes and jackets. There are still 3 more months of this to go – this was just the first night.

-j

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On Sunday Pedro talked about materialism (and how it affects prayer). I thought, “what do people with hardly anything need to hear about materialism?” This morning, reading Ecclesiastes, I realized something. You don’t need to have things to be materialistic.

“The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor the ear filled with hearing.” 1:8b

I used to be thankful to the Paraguayans for showing me what materialism was and how bad it’s gotten in “developed” countries. Now I thank them for showing me what it really is: a desire, an attitude. It’s not having. People with money aren’t necessarily materialistic. If their lifestyle matches their income – if they live within their means – they’re not automatically materialistic. Poor (I use the term in more ways than one) people who look at things as a means to fulfillment are materialistic. That includes those with and without. Always wanting something else.

I’ve become materialistic in Paraguay. There are a lot of “comforts” I wish I had here, even though I have it “way better”(1) than a lot of people I know. I need to look at the apostle Paul and pray that God teaches me to quote him sincerely.

“…for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content”

-j

(1)I am beginning to find that the way I would describe things doesn’t really hold true anymore. What I write is showing me how narrow my perception of reality really is.

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A conversation with a preschooler reminded me of a story. When I was probably 15 or 16, I recall trying on my mom’s jean skirt. I marveled at the freedom one finds when pant legs aren’t present to confine you. I bit my thumb at a society who says men don’t wear skirts (after all, that’s only a relatively recent social norm) and proceeded to prance – yes, prance – around in the skirt.

I began to wonder, with my new liberation from the confines of leggings, if I could kick any higher in a skirt. Not being used to them, I failed to take into account that jean skirts don’t “give” when stretched. I curiously approached my sister from behind and took a big swipe at her with my foot. The reader must at this point be made aware of two key points: our floor was wooden, and I was wearing socks. Before my foot even reached knee-level, the back of the skirt grabbed hold of my leg and plunged me onto my hind-parts for the first and last time.

-j

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