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Can I help you find something?
¨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.
Filed under Miscellaneous
32 mlasP
… 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.
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Confessions II
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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October Newsletter
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The Gleaners
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.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6Z5hVQXdmo&rel=0]
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Environmentalism
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.
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Undermining Common Misconceptions
If you are an ornithological nutritionist, please do not reply to this post.
The following is a video of a Toucan eating Cheese Puffs. I would like to note that the bird in the video does not have its wings clipped and can come and go from the jungle as it pleases… seriously. Stay tuned for ¨Feeding Fruity Loops to Cheetahs¨
…and just a reminder: if you´d like to get our letters sent straight to your email, you can sign up in the column to the right. That is the easiest way to stay up to date on the degradation of the local fauna´s diet. Enjoy!
…also we´ve updated the ¨financial partnering¨ section and are now officially affiliated with MB Mission for donations.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpB54a2s1Z4&rel=0]
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Platanares Wants Clean Water
Platanares is the community of the late Alquilo Opua, the chief that was killed by loggers back in the Spring, located upriver from the Pacific Coast. They had called and asked for help to fix their slow sand filter which should purify the water from the creek that serves as their water source. Although they had previously used and maintained the filter over a period 20 years, a government project came in to ¨improve¨ the system 5 years ago. The filter has not worked since.
While Platanares is a mere 15 miles the way the crow (or toucan) flies, it takes me a 3 hour car ride and then a 5 hour boat ride to arrive. We also must travel with the tides. So for the first trip, to inspect and assess the system, I left home at 3:30 am. All went well, the prognosis simple and feasible for us to fix without outside funding, so they requested a 2nd visit to start work.
I met Neldo and the chief at the port and we were off. Four hours into the trip, nearing the mouth of the river, we entered the veil of rain that had been looming in the distance. I was required to sight a small ship on the starboard horizon as long as possible to try and keep the course straight so we could make it to the river´s entrance without running aground or drifting out to sea. The sun was setting as the rain let up and we found ourselves winding up the wide, lazy river. ¨Creciente,¨ said the captain as others nodded with concerned looks. That means the river is rising. I didn´t see the big deal, a few yellowing leaves and a twig or two drifting down the slick, clean water. We ascended and the wall of mangroves on each side narrowed, the water hastening its rush to the ocean, more debris, and the dark, slick water becoming a frothy chocolate. I learned that day that a 2-stroke engine, which includes nearly all of their outboard motors, does fine in filthy water, assuming one can dodge any major obstacles in the path; a four-stroke, however, gets clogged in the cooling system, overheats, and shuts down. We were in the bigger fishing boat with the 4 stroke. The 115 hp engine screamed behind the small vessel and violently churned water. The muddy waters raced down both sides of the boat, but a glance at the banks showed that we were advancing upriver at the pace of a fast walk. It was dusk. I could see that the main channel of the swollen river now carried limbs and even tree trunks. The pilot deftly cut across once, then again, as we passed two bends in the river. ¨How far to go?¨ ¨10 minutes or so,¨ was the reply as I cringed hoping they´d forgotten that I was late arriving to the port.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The overheating warning. The pilot lunged the boat away from the main channel towards the wall of tangled mangrove branches. Everyone grasped at branches with two hands, except the lady holding her baby… who grasped with one hand. The engine cut off. One youth jumped into the mangrove muck on the bank, and another tossed him a rope. ¨Don´t let go of the branches.¨ The swift current threatened to drag us into the main channel where water and tree trunks would splinter the fiberglass boat, the community´s most valuable possession and our only refuge. It was dark on the river, much more peering into the thicket of trees that tethered us to safety. Without discussion or fanfare, the young pilot, Jorge, disappeared into the forest… no flashlight, no shoes.
An old-timer chuckled about spending the night there in the boat and asked who wanted coffee. I couldn´t tell what was a joke and what wasn´t, so I affirmed that coffee would be good. He looked a little surprised as the boat´s 12 volt light came on and someone started rummaging through supplies bound for one of the community´s dry goods stores in search of coffee. Someone else pulled out the small burner that the fishermen use to prepare their meals. We could hear the waters and debris rushing by in the darkness, but the air hung thick and still, almost dripping; and the mangrove bugs started coming out.
I was now glad that I hadn´t brought along Colleen and Kalea. Actually, the main reasons they chose to stay home were a) exhaustion from the recent trip to Yaviza and b) Platanares is notorious for a tiny, blood-sucking insect that lives in the mangroves akin to what we call a no-see-um, but the tropical version is on steroids. We flailed and swatted for a half hour or so when the distinct hum of a 2-cycle outboard had us straining our eyes towards the darkness. It ripped past us and flipped around in the river channel before easing up beside us. It was Jorge. ¨Women, children, and guests first,¨ was the unspoken invitation.
We all made it back safe and work the following day was a big success… over 13 tons of rock and sand lifted out of the filter tank in buckets and sieved. Since the government project 5 years previously had made the community cut down all the shade trees around the tanks, the labor amounted to cruel and unusual punishment, but everyone worked with joy and laughter. Praise the Lord for this organized and motivated community! and check out the work in this short video.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=964mDpaqgOk&feature=youtu.be&rel=0]
Filed under Water
Florencia our neighbor
She doesn´t want to tell me she has no sugar, she has no salt. She came in the night to ask for medicine because her husband is sick. Her husband stumbled to their outhouse at 1 am with a diarrhea attack. He supported himself on the wooden door in the dark and felt the distinct burn of scorpion venom enter his hand. Alan explains how to make a rehydration drink to discover she has no salt and no sugar. Earlier in the day, she had brought me pounds of beautiful cherry tomatoes. I ask her how she is doing, and she beams ear to ear and tells me, ¨Good. Glory to God.¨ I am almost shocked by this because lately she has had pain in her back.
She has to walk a total of 1 hour to get to the nearest store… literally over the river (5 times) and through the woods, up a steep hill towards the end of her trip. I saw her and her husband return from a trip one afternoon and they looked so tired. I found out later it was largely because they hadn´t eaten that day. Her husband has been sick so he can´t work. When he can´t work, they have no income. This is the poorest person I have personally known so closely (we see each other most days), yet her spirit is rich.
This is your grandmother and my grandmother. She gives you a warm fuzzy feeling like getting hot chocolate on a cold day. She gives you a warm smile every time (even though her teeth are lacking), and a hug and a kiss to melt your heart. She brings you tortillas and other good things to eat when she can afford to, and maybe even when she can´t.
My heart aches for her because she doesn´t have this or that. She didn´t wash her laundry in the river because she had no soap. Through questioning, I pull stuff out of her and fuss at her for not telling me. What can I do? I´m leaving for 5 months. As our immediate neighbor in Catrigandí, she has been a tremendous blessing to us and taught us many things.
Her pit latrine is nearing the end of its useful life, and we´d like to build her a composting latrine, a more sanitary system which can be located closer to their home. Their son which lives nearby has agreed to do the labor but can´t afford the necessary materials. The cost will be $300. If you´re interested in sponsoring this mini-project, let us know. In the meantime, please say a prayer for Señora Florencia.
Bendiciones!
¨The Gospel and the Christian church are seen as interested in the whole man, not only his soul; and in all of his life, not only the hereafter.¨ -Jacob Loewen
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