Christmas in September

About three weeks ago I sent, via email, two lists of grocery items greatly desired in the Thompson home.  These lists were requested by friends in Quito (five hours away) who would be willing to shop for us at the SuperMaxi before coming our way to Shell. 

Well, after several readings of the Nate Saint Cook Book, and looking high and low all through Shell and neighboring Puyo for specific items, I created my list and began to salivate over such simple things like pickles, bacon, and Hunts Ketchup.  This, as I said, was three weeks back.

I had been slowly counting down the days and then, lo and behold, Thursday arrived and I was beside myself with joy.  Our friends called at 2:20 p.m. stating that they were entering Shell and wanted to know if I was willing to have them come straight here to drop off the goods.  Willing??  I was on my front porch, mug of hot tea in my hands, giddy look on my face ready to receive them before they even pulled up.  The van backed into the drive under the carport since it was raining and out came my friends with hugs all around.  Then they opened the back and there, amidst multiple boxes and suitcases were the treasure trove of goodies. 

We hauled every bag into the house, placed it on the kitchen counter and in the fridge, and then headed to school where activities awaited us.  I hated leaving my things.  So close, yet so far away.  It was very much akin to seeing presents under the tree without the permission to open them.

But, one hour later after the kids and I finished with school, we made a beeline for the house and tore into the bags like it was Christmas morn.  There they were....dill pickle spears....gouda cheese....Pace picante sauce....red wine vinegar....sour cream.....tortilla chips....two whole packages of bacon.....goat cheese....Prego spaghetti sauce.....the industrial size bottle of Tabasco (which we'll polish off in a mere month and then need to search for it again)....three bags of almonds and two bags of walnuts.....two blocks of cheddar just perfect for shredding.... saltines.....Hunts Ketchup....the Ecuadorian version of graham crackers....balsamic vinegar....Barilla pasta.....provolone cheese.  (I'm sure as you read this, you were not halting with each item, considering well what life would be like without it.  We have.)

The gifts were open and ready to be played with.  Tortilla chips came first, then we cracked open the salsa, and all hands were in and out of the bag and scooping the chunky bit of heaven.  No one spoke.  Crunch.  Crunch.  Crunch.  It was delightful.  They wanted to open the pickles but I stopped them knowing it would be gone in a matter of minutes.  No,  I said, let's save those for hamburgers.  Yessssss.  We were in agreement. 

I then asked the kids to select a favorite item and hold on to it for this pic:

Lasagna noodles, bacon, pickles.  Joy.
Blessings, kim

Bible Club

On Wednesday afternoons at 4:00 the kids and I head over to the Iglesia Agua de Vida (Living Water Church) which is only a block from our home--praise God.  While there we join in with about 50 other kids and 12 other adults to engage in a Bible club which our friend Sharon established some years back.  Keith, the pastor of the church, leads us in a number of Spanish worship songs and then Sharon teaches a lesson from the Bible in Spanish--my kids are lost, of course.  This semester we're studying the Armor of God found in the book of Ephesians. 

Pre-school and elementary kids from the orphanage, from the church, from the compound (like us), and from the small town itself make up the group.  It's therefore a very diverse group and not everyone speaks the same language.  That sometimes makes for a very active crowd.



You would never guess that age or language was even an issue though when we head outdoors.  All the kids of every age, nationality, and tongue play so well; they have a grand old time together.  Here they're playing Blobtag in the large area behind the church.

Jacobey is as competitive as anyone else.  Today he reported to me that the same girl kept tagging him and he didn't like it one bit.  (I wondered if she just thought he was cute.)



Selah stopped just long enough so I could snap this picture of her.  She had people to tag, ya know.

Next they played something which required hopping.  Glad I wasn't a participant.  It looked way too hard and tiring.  They thought so too.

Darius, ever the fan of being photographed, put his best face forward.  Apparently his 'game face' is  one with a tongue jetting out.

No matter the activity, the kids have a blast and I laugh for about 30 minutes straight.  They run, giggle, slide, chase, and do just about everything you can imagine that would effectively get themselves dirty.  Sometimes it's all grass and mud and puddles which makes for an even funnier and heartier play time. 

 

In the coming weeks Sharon has asked me to lead the Bible Club since she'll be traveling visiting some of her own grown kids; she has six.  (She and her husband Rick took Doug and I out to dinner tonight for a little double date.  We had Chinese food and were very pleasantly surprised!  The bill was only $20!  We'll probably have to go there again.)

 

All in all, it was a terrific day.  One awesome thing was that it only took Selah and I twenty minutes to walk to Casa de Fe this morning, and 25 minutes to walk back.  Saving 15 minutes while walking is a big thing.

 

Here's one more cute shot of Sethy and Cobey after Bible Club. 

Oh, and one more short story.  Today when everyone was at school, I heard a dog yelping on my driveway--really long and really loud.  I peaked out the window and was horrified to see something long attached to the dog's body.  When it finally released him, he limped off whining.  I then timidly peeked out my door knowing for certain that I was about to see a snake of some sort laying on the drive.  Well, praise God that the only long thing laying on my drive was this huge thorny stick that must have embedded itself in the dog's skin.  Thankfully the dog was not filled with venom and this onlooker was not the recipient of yet another snake story.  : )

 

Blessings, kim



Interdependence

Interdependence.  It's a word that is fairly foreign to our American vocabulary.  We know what it means to be dependent--to rely on the assistance of others--such as being considered a dependent on someone's taxes (as I am on Doug's since I've not brought home a paycheck in a number of years). 

We know too very well what it means to be independent.  Independence is the goal. It is the desire. We see it as synonymous with successful or healthy or able.  Americans covet those words and use them to define themselves.  One who is not independent is one who is weak, struggling, unvalued. 

Yet, over the past few weeks the Lord has reminded me that in Genesis, He created the entire universe.  He created all things, including space and water and plants and animals, and then finally man.  He called all of them 'good' until He noted that Adam's being alone was 'not good'.  Not good.  God does not want us to be alone.  He does not want us to be independent.  He does not call that good.  If we are alone, it's actually bad. 

Instead of being alone, much of His word reminds us that He wants us to live in community with others.  He wants us to seek the counsel of others, to marry if he calls us to it, to care for the orphans and widows, to invest in those who have little, to love our neighbor as ourselves, and to seek Him always.  In fact, if we are living as an island unto ourselves, we are operating in a not-good manner. 

This has been foremost on my mind lately because living in a foreign land makes it absolutely obvious that we Americans falter greatly when it comes to living interdependently with others.  You see, when Americans (namely me) move overseas, they become subject to many new situations, new challenges, new cultural norms, new food, a new language, and many other new things that demand a response.  One becomes acutely aware that the old ways of doing things are obsolete.  New ways must be forged.  But, how?  How does one say hello, how much does that cost, my name is, I need help?  Where does one buy milk, medicine, bread, toilet paper, candy?  How does one hook up a telephone, gas tank, water heater?  How does one make empanadas, arroz con pollo, jugo de naranja?  Where are the safest restaurants, stores, coffee houses?  How does one catch a bus, taxi, boat, plane? 

There are no feelings of "I've got this" here.  I've so don't "got this".  I need people, and lots of them.  I've had to ask people in Quito five hours away to bring me a long list of things from the SuperMaxi (grocery store) when they come this way.  I've had to confess that we have been battling lice for a month, have tried multiple anti-lice shampoos, and need some sort of solution so that we can get rid of them completely.  I've had to ask for a lift to Puyo, the neighboring town, so that I could get groceries which we lacked.  I've had to petition neighbors for recipe ideas since our food items are limited and I've run out of creativity a month in.  I've had ask the favor of a friend who is returning to the US if she wouldn't mind taking my letters and cards with her when she goes so that they'll be mailed in the states instead of from here.  And, just to be clear, I've had to ask for each of these things multiple times from multiple people.  I need help.

And that's not just my issue.  It's the issue of my husband too.  Doug's had to ask for help getting rid of the termites in Seth's bedroom door, getting the gas tank hooked and unhooked so we could get hot water back into our house, fixing the weedeater when it breaks down, asking for things in the store because he lacks the vocabulary, repairing his bicycle which is becoming his major mode of transportation--when it works, getting to the school when it's pouring down rain and he'd be soaked if he took the semi-trustworthy bike.  His list goes on too...

What that does is makes one very humble, very aware of neediness, very aware of how limited we are alone, how we could never get every thing accomplished on our own.  It's a hard thing, this being an independent American living in a foreign land.  Praise God that He's told us from the beginning that we are to live in community, in families, in churches, in schools, in groups, in teams, etc. 

Thankfully the Hispanic culture is all about community.  See, they've already got this thing sorted out.  They work together and cheer each other on naturally.  We're the odd balls.  So, when I seem lost and in need of help, they are not put out in the least to give me a hand.  They are instead thinking it strange that we attempt things on our own or keep to ourselves.  Silly Americans. 

So, all of this is to say that my learning interdependence is a tough lesson but, Wow, it would be tougher to not learn it (to have lice any longer than we have already, no food, letters that never made it home, perpetual cold showers, termites, long wet walks in the rain, etc.).  What do you need help with and are too 'independent' to ask for it?  Depend on someone...it may just bless you...

Blessings, kim

Casa de Fe II

Yesterday Selah and I made our usual walk to Casa de F,e but since it was such a beautiful day, I took the camera along (thanks to my sister Denise and the generous Jordans).  I started snapping photos when we were just about to head down the hill to cross the suspension bridge which connects Casa to the rest of Shell.  Below as the street slants downward you can see the suspension bridge and then the path that heads up the hill on the other side.  Very tiny and therefore barely visible is the orange and green big house of Casa de Fe on the opposing hill.

 

As we approached, we encountered a cow that gave us a good once-over.  Apparently he belongs to the property owner at the base of the hill.  Notice that he's not overly fat--none of the cows here are.  Therefore all beef is much leaner when you purchase it in the butcher's shop.

 

 

Then we happened upon Casa and Corey who was digging a ditch for a cement pole that he would soon be creating.  There are an abundance of physically demanding projects to be had here.  They're putting up cement fencing, buildings for the kids to live in, storage facilities, and the eventual smoothing out of roads and pavement.  Selah's just entering the property.

 

 

When we get beyond the big house, we then can see our little classrooms.  This tiny building which used to be the storage shed houses the three-year-olds (my room) and the four-year-olds (Selah's room where I placed her so she'd be close by).  The doors are mounted on the other side of the building but on this side, it appears to still be used as a bit of a storage place.

 

 

Inside are our two little rooms.  When we entered, the two groups had been merged into the four-year-old room to sing some songs and dance.  Selah and I laughed and sang along (as well as we could since it was all in Spanish).  Don't they look nice in their little school uniforms? 

 

 

Well, our dancing frenzy didn't last long because we set out for a little walking field-trip down the hill and to the edge of town.  This is us passing by the neighborhood cow which was far less than thrilled to see an entire mob of little ones come by.  The kids kept pointing and shouting, 'vaca!' till Nelly (in the white hat) informed them that it was a 'toro'.  'Ahhh, toro.....'

 

 

Down the hill we meandered with all kids doing fairly well holding onto the rope.  At the bottom we crossed the bridge over the water, went up the hill toward town a ways, and stopped and turned around.  By this time it was warm outside and Selah had already put in her mile walk getting there.  She began to complain and said that she was not having fun. I reminded her that these kids never get to leave the orphanage so they welcome a view of the town.  Selah then reminded me that she lives in town and does not care to walk this far just to get a view of it.  I had to smile.

 

Next we walked back down to the water, crossed the bridge again and decided to play in the cancha (covered play area).  The kids ran around, kicked balls about, and began to scale the soccer goals and the metal supports!  I pealed Diego off of one when he had already managed to climb nearly five feet up--my heart was racing as I made the rescue--he simply was mad that he'd been rescued.  Since we were so busy, I got no pictures of us under the cancha.  However, I did capture their faces as we walked.  Here are my little compatriots.

 

Edison fiddling with the strap on his hat:

 

Denis talking to me about something important:

 

 Antony giving me his best sideways smile.

 

 Carla passing by a building as we head into town:

 

 Ester showing off a freshly picked flower.

Diego just prior to his big rescue from me.  Diego was born with his tear ducts blocked and twisted.  After two surgeries, they remain twisted and constantly producing puss and tears.  Poor guy.

 

Our way back to the orphanage was not as smooth as our journey out.  The kids were not interested in returning, with the exception of Selah of course, so they didn't want to leave the cancha, hold onto the rope, or head back up the hill.  It took all four of us to corral the fourteen kids--it required much reminding about the snack that awaited us and the water that we could gulp down when we returned.

 



When we got back from our little journey, I quickly took a picture of Nelly's three-year-old room

where I volunteer.  This is the view from the back wall...

 

 ...and this is the view from the front wall.



 

 Finally, I caught a picture of Moises when we were in the big house for a bathroom break. 

 

 All are beautiful and special and have a story. 

 

Thanks for joining us on our trip! Blessings, kim

 



Always learning

Today started with a big downpour just as Doug and the boys were departing for school.  An hour later when Selah and I set out with umbrellas and raincoats for Casa de Fe it had slowed down some.  We prayed that we'd encounter a taxi soon after hitting the road and sure enough, one driver saw our circumstance and gave us a lift.  Three minutes and $1.50 later we hopped out onto the rock-covered drive of the orphanage and walked up the slight hill to the two tiny classrooms (which would both fit in our living room in Katy). 

As soon as we walked in I could tell things were a bit off today.  Profesora Nelly, the teacher, headed out the door a full hour early to take the kids to their 10 am bathroom break.  While they were away I put the two red wooden tables and seven plastic chairs back to their right places.  I then decided to walk over to the big house to borrow some paper towels to clean up yesterday's remnants of dried glue on the table tops.  When I joined up with Nelly and the kids, they were lining up outside the house, each child loosely holding onto the shirttail of the child in front of him/her.  Two kids were having a hard time following directions so they remained behind with one of the Tias (aunts/helpers) so that Nelly and I could walk the other five back to our room.  This process is always an interesting one since the short climb to the classroom always contains things of interest to your typical three-year-old:  nails, gigantic green bugs, discarded pieces of metal, trash, an infinite number of rocks, and a brook just a few feet away bidding them to come. I'm always surprised when we actually get them to willingly enter the classroom; it doesn't happen often.

We entered and decided to start with an activity on the floor.  Antony would lay on the piece of butcher paper and Nelly would draw his outline--at least that was the plan.  Antony laid down but would not stay still so the drawing was fairly challenging.  The other kids, now rejoined by the other two who had stayed back with a Tia, were really just happy to rip the paper or walk away to play with the other toys.  After many failed attempts at getting the kids to settle on the floor, the Tia and I simply let them play while Nelly worked only with Antony and his wiggly self. They started over once, got the simple outline done, and then Nelly sat on the floor cutting out his figure from the paper.

When cutting was complete, Nelly called all the kids over to the table so that we could glue two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears on this life-sized cut-out of one squirmy child.  After insisting, begging, and hauling little bodies to the table, we still managed to only get four of the seven to join us, and then no one wanted to keep their fingers out of the glue or off the paper that encouraged them to rip and tug.  Reminding little fingers to do what we'd asked did not work, neither did holding kids at the table.  They were simply not interested.  Before we knew it, all seven little bodies were engaged in their own idea of play--balls flying, plastic dishes dumped out, toy animals spread around, even one guy hanging from the bottom wall-mounted shelf looking for some play dough--and we three adults felt helpless to operate against that tide.

Honestly, this is where I would have been peeved. How could seven three-year-olds be this challenging?!  They don't outnumber us by THAT much, do they? They simply have to listen and obey.... right?

Well....Nelly's the teacher for good reason.  She put the uninteresting activity away--who cares if Antony's cut-out has only one eye and no ears?  The real Antony's not much for listening anyway. 
She then did the unthinkable--the exact opposite of what I would have done (which of course is to lecture and demand that we do the activity I had prepared).  She opened the big container of glue, poured eight little plates-full, and moved to the floor.  With eight plates of glue beconing to the kids, all within arms reach, every child sat intrigued on the floor. Nelly proceeded to put her entire palm in one of the globs of glue, mashed it to the other palm, and then pulled them apart repeating in Spanish, "open, closed, open, closed".  All eyes were on Nelly; they were glued (forgive the pun!).

The kids played with the glue in their dish and put it all over their hands. They didn't mess with their neighbors, or their clothes, or any of the toys.  They just pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled; and then when their glue dried, they ever so carefully pulled dried glue off of their fingers, or their neighbor's fingers, or their teachers' fingers. We did this for 30 straight minutes!  No one even cared that snack had been delivered.  This was way better than popcorn.  Before long, even yours truly sat focused over the dried glue on her own hands and on Antony's.  Can't lay still to be drawn, but by George, that little guy can park himself in my lap for an eternity so we can tidy up his hands.  Amazing.

So, instead of learning body parts as planned, we worked on fine motor skills, patience, and cooperation.  Apparently that was to be learned by the teachers too. 

Hope you're learning not to be disappointed, but instead learning to do something that works (and may even be fun).
Blessings, kim

Banos (Ban-yos)

On Friday morning we set out for Banos eager to just have a bit of different scenery.  Of course the town only 30 miles away did not disappoint.   On our way there we stopped at the Twin Veils waterfalls toward which we took a suspended basket hanging from a cable.  This cable connected the two sides of the ridge with the Pastaza River flowing down below.  This is a picture of the waterfalls and if you look carefully, you'll see the cable that our basket clung to.  Speaking of clinging, we were doing that very thing as we went sailing across the gorge with much loud, nervous laughter.

Further down the road we also saw one of the most powerful sights we'd ever seen.  We hiked from the roadside to another waterfall and then we went down to near the bottom.  It was amazing to see the force with which the water came flying down over the cliff and into a narrow space where the water was so churning and torrential, nothing could have survived the ride.  After being mesmerized by that sight for a few minutes, we hiked up the side of the wall and walked nearly behind the powerful surge.  Though we had been to Niagara Falls in the past, this seemed even more amazing and awe inspiring.  Sadly, we didn't capture a picture of it on Jacobey's ipod.

When we reached Banos we enjoyed the touristy town nestled down inside the valley amidst the very high mountains which surround it.  One of the most active Ecuadorian volcanos looms only one mile from the center of town.  In 1999 it forced a full-city evacuation.  To this day it spits and spews whenever it sees fit to do so.

Here's Sethy in his traditional baseball attire.  No matter the season or country, he can always be found in it.

 

The streets of Banos are relatively clean and the storefronts have character and color. Doug likened it to being in Switzerland.  While there, we actually met some Swiss backpackers and asked them if it reminded them of home.  They smiled and said that they could see some similarities.

 

Here we found a street entertainer who dressed in all gold and captured the attention of many.  She pretended to be a statue for all passers by but smiled for us when we took her picture.

But nothing was more entertaining than this trio of guinea pigs that had been roasted over a fire.  They go for $10 each and are considered a delicacy.  No thanks.  I can't really bring myself to eating something that resembles a previous pet.

 

We stayed overnight at a very inexpensive hostel (where they sell sleeping space per person instead of by room) and slept on bunk beds.  In the morning we had breakfast up on the fourth floor terrace where the meals ranged from $2-$3.80.  Jacobey took our photo.

 

 

The quality of food was quite good and the scenery was just perfect.  Just over Jacobey's shoulder in the picture below you can see a waterfall cascading down.  In the foreground, notice how his pancakes were loaded with bananas, papaya, pineapple, and watermelon. 

 

 

Other meals we had when we were there included some of our favorite things from back home in the US which we were so thankful to finally have:  burritos, tacos, nachos, fajitas.  (Ecuadorian food is nothing like Mexican or Tex-Mex.  Though it is good, it is the only food we eat in Shell.) We also discovered a very small store that sold thyme, cumin, basil, and chocolate, all things we've been living without. 

 

The highlight of the trip though was our visit to the Mega Bodega (Big Storeroom) which sold way more groceries than we had seen in one place in a long time.  There were more than four aisles of food and we found tortilla chips, walnuts and almonds reasonably priced, more than two types of cheese, inexpensive granola, and a few other things that would not cost us an arm and a leg.  We visited the store twice because we just couldn't get enough of seeing all that variety.

 

The best part, however, was meeting and chatting with the security guard of the store.  He was a relatively short, plain-clothed man that kept an eye on the customers as they sauntered along.  When I approached him to ask about store hours, he graciously answered my questions and then asked if I was a Christian.  I told him that I was and he completely lit up and began to inform me that he was a follower of Christ and that the Lord had saved his life.  Over the next few minutes (and then again on the next day when we returned to Mega Bodega to breathe in more of the wonderful wares they had on sale), I discovered that Carlos had previously been in prison.  Back then, he was a hardened criminal, completely strung out on drugs, sentenced to twelve years in jail.  Yet, the Lord made himself known to Carlos while he was locked up and three days later, he was a changed man.  Not only had Jesus set him free from his sins, he set him free from the penal system; Carlos was released.  His life is changed, he's a new man, and he's shocking the people of Banos who know of his past and see how he's living presently--clean and full of life.  People come into the store daily not believing their eyes.

 

A few weeks ago Carlos had been given a dream/vision in which the Lord told him that he needed to pray for a woman who he would encounter.  I think he said that on the next day while he was at work he noticed a woman who had hair that was beginning to show the effects of chemotherapy.  He approached her and asked if she had cancer.  She confirmed that she did but was surprised by the question.  How did he know?  He told her that the Lord had required him to find her and to pray over her.  So, she willingly accepted and they prayed there in one of the aisles of Mega Bodega.  A week later the woman came back to the store to report that her doctors could no longer locate the cancer cells in her body.  She had been healed!

 

At the conclusion of our chats, Carlos shared scripture verses that the Lord had given him.  He rattled them off from memory because they were so emblazoned on his heart and mind.  I asked him if I could write them down (they were not yet emblazoned on mine) and he gave me a pen and paper.  When we returned to Shell a few hours later and I was able to look them up, I was greatly encouraged and knew that this man had been like a needle in a haystack.  I'd gone to Banos to just experience something new, but what I got was something hard to find and very precious--a man whose life had been radically changed and who was going to live for God in a profound way.  What an inspiration!

 

In case you're interested, these are the verses the Lord told Carlos were for him: 

Isaiah 45:1-4

Exodus 34:10

Jeremiah 15:19

Genesis 28:15

 

So, life here continues to be interesting.  Really, never a dull moment. 

Thanks for hanging in there during this very long post. 

Blessings, kim



 

Perspective part II

(If you  haven't read my post from yesterday, you may wish to see it first.  It's titled Perspective.)

Today Doug and I awoke to the most beautiful day.  There honestly is not a cloud around and we can see the two volcanos as clear as a bell--the first time ever.  It's wonderful to get a fresh start and a morning without critters slithering around.  This is Sangay and it's just gorgeous! 

The kids are still sleeping so it is quiet and peaceful.  Today we have scheduled a road trip to Banos (said Ban-yos) which I am greatly looking forward to.  I've been anticipating it all week mainly because in that town about an hour+ way, they have restaurants that serve more familiar food.  We'll even be able to get Tex-Mex if we care to!  We'll be able to find chocolate and other things not often seen in Shell. Upon our return I hope to post something of interest. 

I'll just share one quick story though before I go.  Last night when we were walking to our friends' apartment where we have weekly Bible study, we stopped at the little veggie and fruit stand I frequent.  I asked the young woman Diana, with whom I've become quite friendly, if I could buy some peas for the empanadas that we'll be making today.  She sold me those as well as four of the best looking mangos she had.  I told her we were headed to our friends' house to study the Bible and that we'd be looking at the book of Revelation.  She looked greatly interested and said, in Spanish of course, that she'd never tried to tackle that book.  I agreed that it was a fairly tough read believed it to be worth the effort.  She acted like that reminded her of something and she reached back behind her to grab a booklet of some sort.  When she turned around, she handed it to me, and I fully expected to see something of a Christian nature.  Instead when I looked down I discovered that it was a Tupperware catalog and she was eager to have me place an order.  I'm not sure why Revelation and Tupperware were connected in her mind but I was grateful for the surprised laugh that it produced in me. 

So much for trying to share my faith with her--strike one for the missionary.  : )
Maybe next time.....
Have a great weekend!
Blessings, kim

Perspective

Well, if today didn't start with a bang, or should I say hisssss?  This morning at 6:45 when sitting on the couch I was prepped and ready for some good quiet time all alone before the mad rush of the day.  I had been there about three minutes or so when I sensed something moving a few feet way.  Sure enough, a small black snake about the width of my pinkie finger was headed in my direction looking as if he didn't even notice my presence. When I saw him I flinched, and then he flinched.  We were at a stand-off.  I quickly walked to the bedroom and let Doug know that we had company.  He came ready for a fight with the broom.  Well, as we approached the little guy, he slithered toward the other broom that was already laying on the floor from the night before--sometimes kids don't put things away, as you may well know.  This is one time I was actually grateful because that's where he buried his head which made it easy capture him.  Doug got a pair of scissors from the drawer and began to cut his head off.  Then we pitched him out the door with the two brooms.  Phew!  I didn't see that coming this morning. 

Well, before we knew it, our kids were up--half an hour earlier than normal.  We had chosen to look in each of their rooms which was just enough of a disturbance to rouse them.  So as you can imagine, with kids come noise, demands, and no time for getting back to my reading.  We're off....  Muffins were the insistent request so I threw the mix into a bowl, began mixing with my new handmixer and promptly noticed the slight burning smell.  I was told that that's a problem with this model.  A few minutes later the muffins went into the oven and I went into the shower.  As soon as hit the water I knew it would be very short one because the water was already lukewarm.  It went cold before I even had a chance to get the shampoo out of my hair.  Back to the kitchen more promptly than expected, I checked the muffins which looked just fine and not ready. 

Darius asked me why the freezer was not working and peered inside.  Sure enough the shrimp in there was thawed and therefore needed to be thrown away.  A few minutes later I pulled the now lightly browned muffins out of the oven, only to discover that the bottoms and sides of each were black as coal. 

Well, before I knew it I was in a terrible mood and ready to cash it all in.  This was a hard day and it was not even 8:00 a.m. yet!  I had begun to list in my head all the crummy things that had taken place so far and how this is just not reasonable.  I was mentally deciding how upset I wanted to be about it all.  Then, the Lord said, "Kim, this is as much of a battle in your mind as it is a physical battle around you."  That was something to ponder.  Hmmmmm.

How would I handle this?  I was getting to decide.  After some thought I chose to win.

So, Selah and I sat down to a great lesson in her Phonics book--we studied the letter K today.  (I had to smile. That's my favorite letter.  Selah smiled, because of course it would be.  Hers is the letter S.--Don't you love kindergarteners?)

Later we headed out to Casa de Fe on foot and on the way heard a friend call out her window to say good morning to us.  She was in the process of emailing me and thought it neat that I came right past their apartment at that very moment.  Then, we ran into the field trip that Sethy and his class had taken to the local store.  A nice delay with some smiling faces. 

When we arrived at Casa, Selah went into her new room right next door to mine where I placed her with six other kids and a teacher who all speak no English.  It could have been the recipe for a disaster but instead Selah loved that she got to look at new books, color, string beads together, and learn some new Spanish.  She wasn't crazy about the snack but she tried it anyway.  When she and I finally left, she was telling me about her time while we started off on our mile walk home only to be picked up a couple of minutes later by some friends that were leaving Casa as well.  We saved about 20 minutes.

Other great things happened too, but this has already been a long enough post.  I won't go into any other details about our day today.  Suffice it to say though that I'm glad I chose to get past the morning.  It could have been a very ugly day indeed.  (In fact, some things are just so jarring or hard that any day could turn out similarly:  stepping on dead rats in the road, walking everywhere, being caught in impromptu rainstorms without an umbrella, tossing and turning because the music in town is so loud on Friday and Saturday night, arriving at a closed butcher shop knowing that your next chance to buy meat will be three days from now, cutting into an eggplant only to have a worm fly out and land in your egg wash, being greeted by a tree frog in the bathroom in the middle of the night, the constant threat of lice and stomach aches, being woken by car alarms that go off in the middle of the night, having to use cash for every purchase because no one accepts credit cards, knowing Spanish for about 30 years and still struggling when talking to some locals, having your children's feet stink so badly from their playing outdoors so much that their classroom teacher has to have a talk with you....among other things.)  Crazy, isn't it?  And it's only been a month.  They tell me that this isn't even roach season yet.  So much for a short post.  : )

Every day is an adventure.  Some just more so than others.  May we all chose to take it in stride and know that He's with us in the details. It is the comfort that makes it all do-able.
Blessings, kim

Casa de Fe

Today I volunteered for the first time at Casa de Fe, the orphanage on the outskirts of our small town.  This little place is about a mile from our house, down a huge hill, across a river, and up another.  The last bit of the walk is seemingly into the country because very little surrounds the place; it's fairly secluded from all other civilization. 

When I asked if I could volunteer my time there, they reported a real need for an extra set of hands in the three-year old room.  So, today I jumped in with both feet and became a 'tia' (auntie).  The room is really no bigger than a bedroom and houses seven of the most wonderful, active little threes that you'd ever have the pleasure of meeting.  They all wear Casa de Fe clothes, reminiscent of a school  uniform, and sport the shortest little haircuts.  Two teachers supervise two girls and five very rambunctious boys.  Shortly after my arrival into the room, a friend of mine who is the nurse in residence, showed up to dispense medicine which intrigued all the kids, yet not as much as did her paper, highlighter, pencil, water pitcher, cups, and envelopes full of tablets.  It was near impossible to keep these things away from curious little hands.  Eventually I picked up her basket of things just so that they would be out of reach; otherwise, this two minute activity was going to stretch into several more. 

Upon her departure, we sat down to do an activity at the table, where no one really wanted to sit--there simply was nothing of interest at the table. All the toys were on the floor, calling the children's names and bidding them to wander off.  It took all three adults and several minutes to convince the wee ones that the table was the best place to be.  We played a ball rolling game reinforcing the color of the ball and the correct way to send it across the table.  This activity lasted no longer than a couple of minutes before it was meandering children again, eager to play with the other toys. 

Next we tried to entice them back to the table with Play-Dough.  Play-Dough seemed to be more in the line of what they had in mind.  We made balls, squished them into tortillas, and practiced our flicking skills.  For at least a couple of minutes my new little friends were contented.  Then we had to make a bathroom run because our mid-morning snack had arrived.  So, all children poured out of the classroom, down the slick hillside where rain had fallen just moments before, around the corner of the bigger building, and into their bathroom area.  Pushing and shoving all the way we finally got fourteen little hands clean and all bladders empty--quite the feat for three year olds who are in the process of being potty trained. 

We all returned to the classroom and now all wanted to sit at the table; snack was imminent.  Yogurt with chopped bananas--gone in record time.  Not a single drop was left.  All kids ate well and were contented.  Next we moved to the floor to play with blocks and one sweet little friend planted herself in my lap and contented herself with just my patting her legs and back.  Three year olds never get enough touch.  Orphaned children probably need it even more.  One child's unwillingness to share produced a fit which lasted for several minutes and was extremely well handled by the classroom teacher.  She was very firm and loving as she held him throughout his fit and talked him down from his crisis moment.  Once he gained control of himself, she spoke to him and he was able to return to play.  Meanwhile, five of our little friends had to return to the bathroom because they needed to go again.  Potty training is a demanding process.

Finally we went on a nature walk on the orphanage grounds which took us down a path lined with large rocks as we tromped on smaller stones.  The teacher showed how to follow in line as she chanted kid-friendly tunes, pointed out the ways to dig in the dirt and how one cleans hands, and how to walk down an incline so that no one gets hurt.  When we neared the end of the short journey, she used a stick to draw a circle in the dirt and encouraged the boys and girls to put rocks on the circle's outline.  Wow.  She knew exactly how to reach and teach this curious bunch.  By year's end, I am certain I will be labeling her a miracle-worker.  She knows well what they need and what it will take to get the job done.

On my jog home, I reflected at how much I learned about teaching today (my background in education helped but I still have lots to learn), about how children do not automatically learn self-control--you  have to teach it to them, and about how blessed I am to have been included in this little room.  What a joy.  I look forward to returning tomorrow....
Blessings, kim

Nate Saint

The story we should have told you from the beginning centers around a man who came to Ecuador in the late 1940s. Nate Saint, along with wife Marj, arrived in 1948 to the very small town of Shell Mera in central Ecuador a year after Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF) decided that they needed a pilot mechanic to live on the outskirts of the jungle. This pilot would fly over the huge jungle expanse dropping off supplies to the many missionaries that lived among the various indigenous populations. Nate would be their contact with the outside world.  However, in 1950 he soon discovered that not only would people need supplies to be brought in, but those in dire need of medical attention could greatly benefit from being brought out.  In fact, approximately 65,000 jungle natives had no hospital and no doctor to serve their needs. 

This concern led Nate to take the money that he inherited from his grandfather's estate to purchase ten more acres for the expansion of his mission which at this time only held a house and a small parcel of land.  Shell Oil, which had pulled out of the region due to multiple problems and little success, willingly sold their land right next to the jungle to Nate so that he was able to expand the airbase and plan for a small hospital.  Immediately he began flying two missionary doctors on sunny days into the interior so that they could supplement the supplies of the dedicated living among the indigenous tribes, and so they could address any minor and major medical needs that anyone might have.  Thus, Nate's service to these two doctors meant the saving of many lives and the tremendous reduction in time spent for them in travel through a very hard, treacherous expanse.  What would normally take ten or more days to traverse, could be reduced to a mere hour with the help of Nate's small yellow plane. 

Over the years, Nate's service to the indigenous and to the missionaries that served them was profound and greatly appreciated.  Finally in 1954 Nate hired Indian boys with machetes to slash the trees and underbrush on the land that he had purchased years earlier.  In 1955 construction began on the building with Roger Youderian at the helm while Nate continued to fly over and into the jungle.  It was that same year when Nate discovered an Auca village by air.  For centuries this one tribe had eluded the eyes and influence of the outside world. Since the 1500s when the Spanish explorers came to the South American continent, the Auca had resorted to violence to keep themselves separate. They were not interested in mingling with outside influences and were certainly willing to kill any and all who would enter their territory.  In fact, they were one of the reasons that Shell Oil gave up its notions of drilling in Ecuador; the Auca had taken the lives of a number of Shell's employees.  Their fear of the Auca led them to leave much in the same way that the Ecuadorian government and military, and other indigenous tribes had previously responded to them.  The Auca were feared by all.

However, this did not deter Nate Saint, Roger Youderian, and three other friends, Jim Elliot, Ed McCully, and Pete Fleming.  Once on a flight over the jungle Nate spotted their village and became elated at the challenge that lay before him.  So, Operation Auca began.  For several days Nate would use ingenious means to send the Auca gifts by air using a long rope and bucket.  The gifts were well received and the tribe even placed some of their own in the bucket for the men to retrieve.  All looked very positive, so the five men worked hard to see how they could best make inroads with a people that all others were terrified of.  Finally in the early days of 1956, Nate and the others chose a spot on a sandy beach along a riverbed four miles from the village where they landed and began to construct a treehouse so they could stay safely at night.  Eventually three Aucas wandered out of the jungle much to the delight of their unsuspecting hosts.  The Auca, very much a pre-historic civilization with only strings for clothes and nine-foot spears for weapons, were intrigued by men who flew in the air and who knew a few phrases in their language.  After an overnighter with them, these curious guests wandered back into the jungle leaving the five men feeling overjoyed and hopeful about what would happen next.

What did happen next seemed improbable.  A couple of days later, on the afternoon of January 8, the five friends heard movement in the jungle and began to call out in their limited language to the Auca that they knew were approaching.  When the Auca revealed themselves they were toting their nine-foot spears with a definitive look to using them.  Soon, all five men lay impaled either on the beach or in the water and the plane was stripped of it's metal.  When Marj Saint back at the Saint house awaited Nate's expected radio message at 4:30 p.m. did not hear from her faithful husband, she knew something was amiss.  Within a few short days, many came from the US and from Quito to find out what had happened.  After days on foot, a search party discovered the bodies of four of the five men and a bare airplane frame.  The devastating news took its toll on the five families as well as on those working for a number of mission organizations; and Life and Reader's Digest carried the stories to the rest of the US.  Ecuador had made a name for itself in world news.

However, the story does not end there.  Rachel Saint, Nate's sister, along with Elizabeth Elliot, Jim's wife, decided to continue the mission that their brother and husband had begun.  These two women and Elizabeth's young daughter moved into the jungle and began to live among the Auca Indians.  It was this act of love and forgiveness, along with the fact that the five men who had been killed each had a weapon on their person and had refused to use it, that spoke volumes to the warlike tribe.  In their language there was no such word or even concept for forgiveness.  Yet, here they witnessed for themselves the overwhelming story of ones who chose to forgive rather than exact revenge.  Eventually this message compelled them to follow the One who would desire such a way for His people.  Today the Auca have even changed their name because 'savage', which is what it means, no longer fits their existence.  They call themselves the Waorani and they live a very peaceful existence. 

It should also be noted that Rachel Saint lived with the tribe until her death.  Elizabeth eventually returned to the States and has written several books.  Steve Saint, Nate's five year old son at the time of his death, today lives among the Waorani.  He calls the man who martyred his father "Grandfather" and he loves the people as his own.  Steven Curtis Chapman, a contemporary Christian singer, has befriended Steve Saint and has included him in his concerts.  Steve has also written to tell of his father's story.  Beyond the Gates of Splendor and End of the Spear are movies that retell this story.  We've not seen them but would love to do so now that we are keenly aware of the history behind them.

So, that takes us to today for us.  The school that our kids attend and that Doug and I volunteer at is Nate Saint Memorial School.  It is the school that Nate Saint purchased land for so that missionary children would not have to attend a boarding school in Quito, which at the time was 13 hours away.  We have been to Nate and Marj's house

which is just a few feet away from the school and have listened to the sound of many a plane on sunny days take off from the runway that Nate and his fellow missionaries used to make history here.

 

It is an awesome thing to be a part of this story.  The legacy of this man and his friends brings to life one scripture in particular:  there is no greater love than that of a man who lays down his life for his friends.  Though Nate was not a friend of the Auca at the time of his death, he is why they are our friends today.  He gave his life so that others could live.  He lived much like Jesus:  doing today what some call impossible so that others might be brought into the Kingdom of God.  May our lives here and your lives there be much the same. 

For more info, check out this site:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nate_Saint

Thanks for reading.
Blessings, kim

Laughter

Three times on Wednesday I found myself in full uproarious laugher.  Those times, for some people, are too few and far between.  Sometimes life gets way too demanding or the weight of one's troubles keeps one very short sighted.  Not the case a couple of days ago.  It was an interesting day....

We recently discovered that every Wednesday at 4:00 the kids and I will be attending a church gathering (a Bible Club) where the Casa de Fe orphanage kids will be brought, the church kids will walk to, and our missionary kids will run to after dropping off school books and backpacks. After singing worship songs in Spanish and hearing a lesson from the Bible (in Spanish as well), all kids ages four to twelve speaking two different languages will converge upon the church's backyard in to play a game of kickball.  When we played the other day, it was incredible.  No matter if you know the rules or not, if you can run or not (some orphans are disabled), are tiny or tall, speak in English or Spanish, you're welcome to play.  And play we did!  I watched in wonder as kids played their hearts out and everyone had a terrific time.  Sometimes the adult missionaries would purposefully miss a ball or allow kids to beat them to the plate. At one point Sethy ran full speed around the bases and then slid into home. This comes as no surprise because that's how he plays every game.  What I didn't expect was that Selah was going to slide head first, dress and all, into home plate when it was her time to round the bases. Her underwear may have shown, but she was safe, by George!  She may be a girl, but she's a Thompson through and through. 

Later, when we came home I headed straight for the kitchen to prepare dinner thinking that everyone had worked up an appetite. Meanwhile Doug went over to the maintenance department behind the hospital to return some large saws that he had borrowed the previous day.  (Our trees look a lot less jungle-y due to his efforts.) When dinner was all almost complete, I heard a familiar sound outside near the corner of our house. I stopped to get a better idea of what it was and recognized right off the whirrrrrring sound--he must have found more fun stuff to try out.  Sure enough, when I looked out I discovered Doug manning the largest weed-eater I'd ever seen, wearing a full face guard protecting the broadest smile imaginable. He was in his element.  He asked if we could hold off dinner a little longer so he could play till dark.  I suppose the request--usually uttered by the kids--seemed applicable here too.  Sure.  Enjoy yourself.  Dinner could wait.

Finally, just as I'm about to put things on the table because it's well beyond dark-thirty, Doug came in to report that the neighbor had discovered a creature on the edge of the compound property.  He wanted to know if we'd be interested in seeing it.  Sure.  Dinner's waited this long; what's another few minutes?  We rounded up our kids and all the neighbors' kids and had a bit of a science lesson.  This is what our brave neighbor brought over:

 

A five and a half foot long boa constrictor.  It actually was a beautiful snake and almost all the kids got a chance to touch it--those who wanted to anyway.  Selah was the first to give it a try.  Thompson through and through. 

Yes, we live next to the jungle.  Guess it was a matter of time.  Blessings, kim

Yellow Fever Part II

I had a bit of a skip in my step yesterday when the sun came up.  Some friends here invited me to go to Puyo to try out the only American-style coffee shop in the region and to make a pit stop in the SuperTia--Puyo's largest grocery store.  Since I've not had regular drip coffee from a coffee pot in weeks, I was more than eager for the day to begin.  I had even gone to bed on Monday night with some excitement rumbling in my stomach. 

So, I asked one of my very sweet neighbors to watch Selah for a couple of hours and I headed down the road to meet this engaging couple.  We waited less than a minute for the local shuttle bus to stop at our corner and we hopped on taking seats that were fairly close to the front.  Little by little, locals joined us filling every seat and almost every inch of floor space.  There were street vendors, people eating soup, moms with babies, school aged kids, grandparents; all of humanity (and even dogs) found the bus to Puyo. 

Forty full minutes, and about 20 stops later, we made it from the HVO stop (Hospital Vozandes Oriente) to the downtown Puyo stop--it's the very last place to disembark. If one were to take a car, it's actually only about six miles, but seeing that we have no car and the bus only costs a mere twenty-five cents, we don't mind waiting for the duration. 

My friends pointed out a number of places as we made our way to the café:  butcher, restaurant that serves great soup, plastics vendor, computer store, bakery, paper-goods store, place to buy knock-off Crocs for five dollars, fabric seller, etc.  We made a couple of quick purchases (bread, freshly boiled quail eggs, keychain) and then arrived at El Faraseo.  I glanced over the menu--expensive by Ecuadorian standards--but cheaper than Starbucks and asked for un cafe Americano.  A couple of minutes later I had my freshly purchased bread roll from the bakery and my six ounce cup of joe with milk and sugar, my two friends with whom to chat, and some great Ecuadorian worship music on the Ipod she brought.  If I closed my eyes, it almost felt like home with the smell of coffee in the air. 

However, after the cup ended (way too soon) and I'd had my quaint little breakfast, I could tell that the restroom would soon be needed.  A pit stop there and then it was off to the SuperTia.  Crowded as usual, Tia's had a few things on sale which I took advantage of (toothpaste and toothbrushes, a drying rack since my dishwasher doesn't work), and then I claimed my other items.  As always happens, I swoop through the three aisles of food items, look into my only quarter-full basket, and go down those same aisles again seeing if there's anything I missed.  I soooo long for shelves that have more than just the nine things I grabbed:  milk in a box, cheese slices, ham, yogurt in a bottle, chips, cookies, crackers, two kinds of juice, beans.  I've love a store with more options, more familiar items.  Even in Abu Dhabi where I lived over a decade ago the selection was four times as big as it is here.  I suppose that's the difference in small town living and living in a big city overseas. 

I paid my $35 and change, loaded my four recyclable bags (courtesy of Whole Foods) over my shoulders, and we trooped off to the bus stop once again.  We invested another forty minutes and twenty-five cents in the ride back, this time more heavy-laden and with my stomach fully churning. I began sweating profusely and nausea set in. My guess is that the milk in my coffee was the culprit; yet, it could have been anything--non-pasteurized milk, tap water used in the coffee instead of bottled, Yellow Fever shot from yesterday.....

Thankfully, by the end of the day, most of the yuckiness had subsided and I was able to throw together some dinner with relative ease--praise God for pasta!  Today I'm a bit better but as I type this I can still hear my stomach and intestines sorting out the issues.  I consider myself blessed though since I'm not the only one in the family who has had days like that (it's hit just about all of us at one time or another) so we all have empathy for the one who's out of sorts.  And, it's a short bout with something temporary.  Praise God it's not going to stay.  It could always be worse:  after a month of being itchy with the Typhoid shot--one very unpleasant side-effect--I'm not looking forward to the possible side-effects of the Yellow Fever shot which will reveal themselves in 3-8 more days. 

Till then, I'll be happy to have had a cup of coffee, picked up some much needed items, and spent the morning with some friends getting to know better the foreign land I now call home.  I hope your day brings adventure your way too......
Blessings, kim

Yellowfever

In July, prior to coming to Ecuador, we all had to be immunized against Typhoid to protect us from the waterborne illnesses that we might encounter here.  Selah had to have the shot version since she is younger than six years of age, which we could only get from a travel clinic on the west side of Houston--approximately 15 miles from our home--to the tune of about $155.  Doug and I and the boys, all being older than six, were allowed to have the pills which were available at our neighborhood Walgreens for $71/each person--way cheaper.  When we arrived we were informed that the boys could have the pills with a prescription (something they forgot to mention when I first investigated our options); Doug and I would not need a prescription but if we had one, we could take our pills home and self-administer. 

You see, to immunize appropriately one must take four Typhoid pills, each two days apart. 

So, I phoned the pediatrician (for the boys) and our family doctor (for Doug and I) to see whether I could secure this simple permission from each.  Sadly I struck out on both and returned to the Walgreens.  Walgreens said that Doug and I could have our pills but we would have to come every-other day for the next eight days to take the pills.  No problem--Walgreens is close to home.  The boys, however, would not receive theirs without the prescription and were told that we could go to the travel clinic (the same one that we took Selah to 15 miles from home at twice the price).  Hard pressed, I contacted the doctor again and eventually got a positive response.  So, to the pediatrician's office we rode, and then back to the Walgreens we went, prescription in hand, thinking we'd be able to get the boys' eight-day regiment begun.  Things were looking up. 

Walgreens typed in all their information, made sure they had enough pills, then discovered that the pediatrician had written a prescription for the shots, not for the pills.  As you can probably guess, pharmacists cannot dispense pills if a doctor states that it is to be a shot. So, we (the pharmacist and I) called the pediatrician back and asked if she would permit the boys to have the pills.  Negative.  She didn't feel comfortable with the pills since she'd done no research on them and had no idea about their nature.  Fine.  I asked the pharmacist to just give us the shots.  Negative.  Walgreens does not stock shots.  Only pills. 

So.....we went home and I called around to various other locations that might come up with a different story.  CVS, Kroger, HEB, Wal-Mart, etc.  All negative.  Meanwhile, we're getting closer and closer to our day of departure and the kids have to have Typhoid in their systems at least a week before we arrive.  It would already take eight days to get the final dose in--time was running out.  So....off to the travel clinic we went again.  This time to the tune of something like $425.  The boys got their pills and we were at least allowed to bring them home and administer pills two, three, and four from our own fridge.  All in all, Typhoid cost us something like $722!

At least it's better than the alternative...

And, did I mention that the pediatrician's office called the next day to say they were ready to give us a pill prescription?.....  Ahhhhhhh

Well, today after school the entire Thompson family took in the Shell community health clinic, four blocks from our house, in pursuit of a Yellow Fever vaccine.  We were told that getting it here in Ecuador would be cheaper than in the states.  Daddy went just before school was out since he had a meeting to run after school.  So, at 3:30 the kids and I trooped down to this small building housing several little offices such as obstetrics, pharmacy, vaccinations, etc. located off of a main larger hallway/reception area.  People of all ages waited here patiently for their turn in each of the various offices.  When we walked in and asked for a Yellow Fever vaccine, the nurse took us immediately, filled out our yellow immunization cards and took out needles.  Crying included, this took no more than ten minutes and cost us--brace yourself--nothing.  Free.  Music to my ears.  I therefore felt like the success of this entire outing called for an ice cream.  Mommy included.  Four ice creams, one lemonade, and $2.75 later, the Yellow Fever story beats the Typhoid story in my book hands down. 

Who says all things are better in the States?!

Thanks for reading!  Blessings, kim