Category Archives: Miscellaneous

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Starting in the late 1700´s, South Carolinians have been referred to as sandlappers. According to some accounts, George Washington coined the term in 1791 in reference to people living in the lowland and piedmont areas which were so poor they ate clay to supplement their dietary mineral intake.

José Gaitán is almost 76 years old. Those are his hands weaving the basket at the top of our webpage. He marvels that my Grandmother, who turned 90 yesterday, helped pick up this strange new food he is eating (a pecan), and I´m not sure he believes me when I say that she still drives a car. He has stayed at our house for the last 5 months taking care of it, supposedly, which is next door to his son´s house, and now we are roommates. His health has been failing for the last 10 years, and he doesn´t see or hear very well. At this point, he can no longer weave hats either, and he´s left the gas stove on twice already since I´ve been back. I think he enjoys  the indoor faucet, the shower, the composting toilet, and the canned food we left for him. He grinned and played with the light switch for several minutes when I showed him how to work it and tried to explain the small panel I had placed on the roof. I felt dumb as he marveled at the can opener after I returned, and I realized that I had not taught him how to use it. He described it as ¨pura ciencia¨ [pure science] and declared it far superior to opening cans with a knife.

José´s first paying job was cutting down mangroves with an axe. He earned 8 nickels a day. A shirt cost $2.50. Pants $3.00. Food was ¨cheap¨. He saw someone reading at age 15 and decided to invest one nickel in a pencil and another in a notebook, and he learned to read and write somewhat, but he never received any formal education. In the evenings, we talk about theology and sometimes he tells a story…

When José was a child, he ate dirt. His mother, the family disciplinarian, tried to break him of this malicious habit. He was forced to drink tobacco infused urine as punishment for eating dirt, which he elected over being beaten, but it was no use. José continued to eat dirt. At about age 8, José´s conscious (with the help of his parents and numerous siblings) convicted him to feel that dirt eating was an undesirable behavior that must be changed. Therefore, José, at that young age decided, ¨today I´ll eat dirt, but tomorrow I will not.¨ So for a time, José would eat dirt one day and not the next. With this successful exercise in self-control under his belt, José decided that he would now go two full days without eating dirt before eating it again. This transition was also successful and, gradually, he increased to 8 days without eating dirt and then to total abstinence from dirt eating. It was a milestone.

What seemed to stand out for José in this chapter of his life was the very young age at which he actively implemented a program of discipline and self-control in order to achieve his goal as well as the self-awareness that accompanied decision-making process.

What stood out for me was that he was so poor he ate dirt. I shared the SC sandlapper history and José nodded, ¨Yes, there were many of us children to feed.¨

We then had a good chuckle that one of our neighbors, older than José, had tried to convince him the other day to wash his face with urine to cure his headache. Culture, belief, and practice continue to change, and while navigating this environment with understanding, patience, and respect here in Panama can be challenging for us, it affords many valuable opportunities to peer into the idiosyncracies of our own culture and understand who we are.

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¨Can I help you find something?¨ an obese lady, maybe 55 years old, had caught me in front of the bacon and cheese section at the local mom & pop supermarket 1 hour from closing in the mostly vacant store.

¨I´m just a little overwhelmed by the bacon choices. Thanks,¨ I said, thinking I might explain that I don´t usually buy bacon, but then reasoning: what´s the point? And I turned away.

She took this an invitation to explain to me the finer art of purchasing pork products, and so I humored her. It was as if she had found purpose for the evening, a place and time to contribute. As she dug to the bottom of the Oscar Meyer pile to compare marbling, I noticed and decried a package that appeared to contain air and was no longer reddish pink with pearly streaks but rather an ominous gray color. ¨If you point that out to the cashier, they´d probably knock off 79 cents,¨ she offered, hopefully. ¨Looks a little risky for 79 cents,¨ I countered, happy to squeeze in my first complete sentence. As she moved on to the shredded cheeses, which were adjacent, I decided to interrupt and point out that I had already selected my cheeses, confidently showing her my basket to prove I was not lying. ¨Oh, this lesson is for next time and so that you can share it with someone else,¨ she smiled, and I felt rather stupid at my self-centeredness.

She appeared comfortably dressed in her overcoat and scarf, with a fairly warm smile under her round nose which held up her round glasses. A loud voice in my head told me to excuse myself, leave, and get on with life. The quiet voice told me to shut-up, stay, and get on with life… listening. Perhaps 15 minutes into the engagement, the loud voice surged. The monologue was back to bacon, so I grabbed the cheapest pack, Big Buy Hardwood Smoked, and chose to say something weird and end on a fun note:

¨I´ll just go with the Big Buy, ´cause it´s cheapest. But I think the question that´s on everybody´s mind is this:¨ I took care to enunciate, ¨Since Jesus was omniscient, did he struggle with not being able to eat bacon?¨

She paused and pondered for a second… ¨I haven´t tried the Big Buy, but if you ask the fellow up front…¨ and she continued.

A while later, I found an opening and ventured, ¨Do you go to church?¨ which resulted in her admittedly uncertain yet thorough opinions on the significance and ramifications of Jesus Christ as well as some of the other prophets and apostles both within and without Christianity. She also spoke very highly of her favorite church and all of its ministries to the disenfranchised and homeless. And although she was not sure of its name, she gave me directions to it at least twice.

As she delved into the history of the church, she stumbled to recall the name of Constantine, so I filled in the blank. She paused. The look on her face told me she was surprised that anyone would listen to someone talk about something that they already knew something about. Yet on we (she) went into church, Bicycle Billy the Irish guy, homelessness, her disability, raising children… Honestly, I was surprised that I was still listening.

I managed to find value in the child-rearing methodologies she was describing and interjected, ¨you seem to have innate ability as a leader.¨ She balked, maybe blushed. ¨Well, some people have said… but leadership and power…¨

I interjected again, ¨maybe I should have been more specific… you have innate ability as a servant-leader… like Jesus.¨

For a second, I thought she was going to cry. There was silence for the first time after what must have been well over half an hour.

¨I think I need to go back to church,¨ said Teresa.

I committed to pray for her and we parted with a hug and lots of smiles.

¨What on earth was that?,¨ I thought, feeling totally used, but in a great way.

… a thought from a recent acquaintance that feels like a lifelong friend (thanks Rhys).

Sometimes it´s good to consider the alternative. Make sure you fill your head with the good stuff which follows.

Serendipity, Providence, Happenstance, Coincidence… or Alan the dummy still hasn´t learned his lesson and God is gracious and patient and willing to teach. If you read Confessions, recall that the bank gave me $5k in cash that did not belong to me and, in a nutshell, I justified stealing it… but I didn´t (praise God!).

¨Mr. Foster, how much did you expect your tax refund to be?¨  I was on the phone with a Mrs. Johnson of the IRS headquarters. I had called her after our tax refund check had cleared, faithfully deposited by the person that oversees our account while we´re out of the country. I know it´s way late in the year, but I´d succumbed to identity theft, had our returns rejected, mailed in a paper return, a hand written note, affidavit, etc., and previously talked to the IRS on the phone. I´m also not up-to-date on politics and aware that Uncle Sam gives lots of money to undeserving people. (I´m still trying to ramble off a defense for my thoughts and actions.)

I´d like to pat myself on the back and say that it was easier this time… because it was… but the truth is, I stopped to think of all the reasons that it would go undetected and all the ways that I (or you for that matter) could spend it better than Uncle Sam. A google search had shown that, although rare, it does happen, and you can be held accountable, with penalties, for accepting a tax refund beyond your due.

¨No, I can´t remember how much¨ I answered, slyly thinking that I really couldn´t remember the exact amount that we were happily anticipating. ¨Well about how much were you expecting?¨

¨I´m not sure,¨ I lied. There was a pause.

¨Mr. Foster… I had to laugh when I saw how much your return was.¨

Contrary to underlying tone of many sermons I´ve heard, God wants us to do the right thing because of love and trust, not fear of punishment. Honestly, I did not love mailing Uncle Sam a check today for $14,570.48, and my attitude did not undergird a complete trust in God to supply all the needs of my family and I; but it feels good to have a clear conscience now… and a hope that maybe I´ll do better on the next test that comes my way.

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We recently had our first day off here in Canada and decided to volunteer at a local non-profit. If I´ve had your ear in the last year, you probably know I´m sold on dehydrated food, so we thought it was beyond coincidental that a dried food non-profit group is operating year round about ½ mile from our home. Fraser Valley Gleaners is a Christian organization dedicated to providing humanitarian aid to hungry people around the world. In short, they receive produce from many Fraser Valley farmers, where we are now living, which is deemed unfit for the North American retail market. I must say that every piece of produce I saw was as good as most of what I´ve purchased in the grocery store here… and it was all infinitely better than anything I´ve ever purchased in Panama. This food is cleaned, sorted, sliced, and diced before being dried in industrial food dryers. The final product is a dehydrated mix for making soup which is then distributed to the hungry through reputable channels such as missionaries or aid workers. This brilliance is the work of Carl and Elaine Goosen and a multitude of dedicated volunteers, mostly retirees, but also students. In fact, anyone can stop in and work… and that´s what we did. Where would someone find inspiration for such as this? The Bible! “When you harvest your land, don’t harvest right up to the edges of your field or gather the gleanings from the harvest. Don’t strip your vineyard bare or go back and pick up the fallen grapes. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. When you reap the harvest of your land, don’t reap the corners of your field or gather the gleanings. Leave them for the poor and the foreigners. I am GOD, your God.” There are at least 5 similar operations scattered in the major agricultural valleys of Canada. Interestingly, there are none in the U.S. because what they are doing would be illegal. All dehydrated fruit must go through fully automated processing. I can´t imagine Fraser Valley Gleaners without the people.
The video part is 1 min., but if you like the song, check out Josh Garrels.
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We are enjoying a wonderful environment in BC Canada. The weather has been beautiful, but more importantly, we are surrounded by encouragement, acceptance, counsel, love…

It seems easy to flourish… renew… even revisit old difficulties for resolution, redemption.

In a world that can seem out of control, it´s easy for me to forget that I can largely control my surroundings. I choose friends, where to buy groceries, what music I pour into my mind, when to open my eyes, and when to close them. I can start, quit, come, and go.

My conundrum, as always, is in the discernment of how to apply what I know to be true. Paul would seem to contradict Jesus when he asks ¨what fellowship can light have with darkness?¨(II Cor 6:14), instructing the nascent church to thin its ranks of evil and avoid association with ¨unbelievers¨ (I Cor 5:9,10). Jesus, on the other hand, tells us to be lights in the [dark] world, carrying our lamp for all to see (Mt 5:14). In all realities, both light and darkness are unavoidable, and both Paul and Jesus are speaking into dominion of our environment, Paul recognizing the influence that our environment has over us, while Jesus speaks of the influence we have over our environment:  the proverbial, paradoxical coin.

Our physical world reflects the same truth, of course. At the macro level, we are warned that our individual emissions and pollutants influence our environment, which will accumulate, raise the global temperature a few degrees, and destroy us all. Or conversely, we can strive to reverse, repair, and restore balance as stewards of our environment through conscience daily decisions. (I´ve been doing a poor job here lately.)

At the micro level, a small skin blemish can mushroom overnight into a large, inflamed, and quickly growing bacterial infection. Left untreated, it can be dangerous, go septic, and cause loss of limb… or life. Mine started 3 days before we left Panama… perhaps a result of several rainy days when there was outside work that had to be finished… and overnight my entire shoulder was swollen, red, and starting to ooze.

Dr. Google said ¨go to the doctor and get antibiotics asap!¨, but some combination of stubbornness, squeamishness for needles, and curiosity held me back. The only option: hot water.

I prepared my ¨hot compress¨ by boiling my washcloth in tap water. After it had cooled to where I could comfortably pick it up, I folded it, and with my right hand I placed it on my left shoulder. OOOOWWWWWWWW!

I unfolded it, thinking I had made some sort of temperature miscalculation, and placed a clean part of the washcloth on my right shoulder with my left hand. Nothing. Just warm. Weighing the options, I realized how much I hate needles and going to the doctor, and I resigned myself to test the hypothesis. Could such a small change in the ¨environment¨ of my shoulder cause the good to thrive and the bad to die off?

For 2 days, I consistently altered the environment in the sub-cutaneous layers of my shoulder with clean, hot compresses. Prayer and water. Each time was easier and easier, and gradually the dying skin sloughed off, and the pink, new skin healed astoundingly fast.

What´s the point? Like an infection, bad things make their way into our lives. And while antibiotics certainly have their place, more and more evidence is warning about the dangers of misuse. In the spiritual parallel we can seek out spiritual doctors, invest money, attack the problem head-on, guns-a-blazin´, get healed… I don´t discourage that; but nor will I seek out an exorcist when I become aware that greed, pride, or lust is fighting for a foothold in my life.

Perhaps I should consider simply changing my environment. Maybe not even something extreme… but certainly something intentional and persistent… something that will inhibit the bad and encourage the good in me to thrive again. Then, healthy, I can go back into the rain to continue work.

May you find the blessed environment which you seek.