Walking With El Salvador

Beaches in El Salvador have a pretty good reputation for being trashy.  Certainly 20 years ago, beach-goers routinely tossed their trash into the water or left anything that was not going home right there on the sand.  After any holiday, The warm black sand was literally covered with paper napkins, styrofoam plates, plastic forks, straws, plastic bags, and all kinds of picnic garbage.  Roaming dogs ate the food scraps.  Stuff worth selling was picked up by scrappers and recyclers.  And people relied on the waves to wash the bulk of the trash out to sea. And while trashing the beach while at the beach was bad enough, tossing stuff out of bus windows, sweeping home trash into the streets, tossing rural trash into water ways was simply what Salvadorans did.  The challenge was real, and still is:  small country, big population, an abundance of trash. Over the last 20 years, environmental education combined with infrastructure improvements have made a ...

I am not sure who coined the phrase "Junk for Jesus," but it came into my lexicon a few years back.  Already, many of you are nodding and chuckling at the mention of this short phrase because without any explanation needed, folks who work in churches or organizations that solicit and welcome in-kind donations know exactly what "Junk for Jesus" is.  For the good-hearted donors among you who would appreciate a definition of the phrase "Junk for Jesus," let me enlighten you:  "Junk for Jesus" is cast-off stuff, sometimes neatly tied into recycled plastic bags, often labeled, and happily placed into donation bins.  It is the stuff that is "too good" to throw out.  It is the stuff leftover from rummage sales (usually with price stickers still affixed).  It is clothing and shoes that children have worn well or which have been stashed for a few decades in an attic or a basement.  Junk for Jesus sometimes has sentimental value. Sentiment is...

Medical Care...it's a complicated and messy topic whether you are in El Salvador or the United States or probably just about any place in the world.  The disparity between what is available between one country and the next seems unfair.  The disparity between what is available to people with resources or insurance and people without resources or insurance seems unfair.  The sense of unfairness and awareness of disparities along with genuine desires to do good in the world drive people from the United States to organize mission groups to care for people in El Salvador. The topic of this story:  Medical Brigades. If you are a regular reader of my random stories, you know that healthcare in El Salvador is a topic about which I frequently write.  Search "medical" or any other healthcare type words, and dozens of stories will pop up.  I am not a professional in a medical field, but I have a 17-year history of walking with the Salvadoran people in the areas o...

I love lunch hour in El Salvador.  Yes, lunch HOUR. A group of us often gather in the conference room where the lunches are as varied as are the stories shared.  A couple of weeks ago we welcomed a new missionary to the office.  She had a little bit of an encounter on a bus earlier in the week, and so we started talking about the ways in which we navigate getting from place to place safely.  Here are a few gold nuggets from the conversation... On the theme of the wisdom of carrying a bit of money in your pocket:      One time I was on the bus, and a gang member got on and said, "Everyone has to pay $1.  We don't want to rob anyone so you are all in this together.  Everyone $1."        So we all got out our dollars.  This is why it's important to carry a little money in your pocket. You never want to have to dig around for a dollar if you need it.  The older lady next to me pulls out a 5 dollar bill.  I...

I leave the office door open.  The office is a narrow room with a slightly hidden door off of a dark outdoor corridor.  No one really thinks to knock if the door is closed, even though I have taped a foam heart on the door that says "welcome" in three languages.  It's a surprisingly quiet space.  It receives the afternoon sun, which gives it a stuffy, oven-like quality that lasts into the next morning.  The slatted windows let in just enough car exhaust and kicked up dust from the parking area to give everything in the office a slightly gray patina. I leave the office door open.  An open door invites people in.  An open door says that the person inside has time for you. People wonder what I do in El Salvador.  I sometimes wonder about that too.  Today was my second day back in the office.  I start each day by wiping off the desks and lighting a candle.  This could be viewed as a spiritual practice.  The candle is big and ...

Just outside the door to the church, on the sheltered wall of a small portico, a small family of bees began to construct their nest - not on the stuccoed cement wall as one might expect, but on top of a poster which is securely taped to the wall. If this happened outside of your church door or on the porch of your home, what would you do?  I probably would have spritzed the little mud daubs with a bit of vinegar (thus ruining the poster) or perhaps would have pulled the poster off of the wall to discourage the bees from building in that spot (thus ruining the poster).  After all, no one wishes to have bees buzzing about near a well-used entry way.  Right? Daniel never considered impeding the work of the bees.  Instead, each Sunday morning before worship he snaps a few photos to capture the progress of the construction project.  As he has observed the progress, Daniel noticed something quite remarkable. The poster on which the bees are building their home i...

"Be sure to have a cake.  Usually there is a cake.  We couldn't afford a cake, and we were a little bit sad about that, but it was OK, right?  The cake should have layers and be tall and pretty like a wedding cake." We had a cake.  And balloons, lots of balloons.  And streamers and pink tablecloths and pink sparkly stuff and a princess in a pink dress and pink lemonade. From the beginning, we had planned two quinceañera celebrations to honor our fifteen years together as sister churches:  one in El Salvador and one in the US.  Even though we were sad to say good-bye to our Salvadoran friends at the end of our time with them, we had some fun together planning for the party "in the north."  We probably would not have dancing.  We would decorate using colorful balloons and streamers just like the Salvadorans had done.  And there would be cake. The party in El Salvador was planned by the community, and we had sent some funds ahead of...

"This is your daily bread.  This is your daily bread."  There is a voice in my head, and these are the words. Daily bread.  Give us this day our daily bread.  As people of faith, we pray this prayer every day, perhaps several times in a day.  We ask God to provide us with what we need to sustain us today -- shelter, clothing, food, and water. As a person of privilege, I have never passed a day without having adequate shelter, clothing, food or water.  I have always been given daily bread.  Sometimes I marvel at God's creativity in providing daily bread.  I have upon occasion found myself without food, through my own fault in forgetting my lunch or not planning properly.  I work in communities where the struggle for daily bread is real, yet, in these communities, I am always fed.  Someone shares a sandwich, a piece of fruit, or a tamale.  An invitation is extended to a community meal made from reclaimed food.  "This is your ...

So, at one point, after a near riot of children and teachers ensued, I promised myself that I would never take another Beanie Baby to El Salvador. At another point, I reconsidered this position  because a wonderful program called Armas ni de Jugetes (roughly, weapons are not toys) teaches kids to be peacemakers and offers them the opportunity to trade toy guns and toy weapons for stuffed animals, positive toys or school supplies.  Seeing a kid cuddle a Beanie Baby instead of sticking a plastic revolver into his waistband is worth the hassle of hauling these little creatures by the 50-pound-suitcase-full through airports and customs. So, occasionally I pull a decrepit suitcase full of Beanies behind me through the aduanas , and hand it off to an amazing pastor who is dedicated to teaching kids and communities to fight violence with love, but I haven't given a lot of thought to the impact which the giving of the Beanies may have on the donors, until this past Sunday. On S...

Waking up on time was not a problem. The rain pounding on the tin roof during the long hours of the night was followed by the roosters crowing and the all-dog alert, so that before the sun came up, we were already finished with any attempt of sleeping. We slithered out of our sleep sacks and peeked into our shoes (hoping a random mouse, cockroach or scorpion had not settled inside for the night) before we slipped them on and headed for the latrine. That old latrine experience was always an adventure. Weaving in and under the plants, the short little distance to the potty seemed longer than it really was, especially in the dark. The outhouse was just wide and deep enough for the cement seat and a skinny person. The 2-foot step down into the outhouse carried a moment of mystery...would it be squishy full of mud? would the cockroaches scurry up the walls? Greasy had a harder time of it, being so tall that she could not really stand up without bumping her head on who knows what. It...

One day, Greasy and Grubby were hosted by the queen. It had been a long walk to the edge of our sister community, down near the old hacienda. We had been to the hacienda once before, and had been told stories about battles and seen bullet holes in the old concrete walls, but we didn't know too much about the families who live nearby. On that day it was our mission, to meet the families who live near the hacienda. We walked up to the edge of the yard. "Buenas tardes, con permiso?" "Good afternoon, can we come in?" "Pase, pase, por favor" which literally means, "pass, pass please." We were greeted by an exuberantly smiling grandmother. Moving slowly but with a bustle of excitement at having company, she pulled 3 chairs together, chirping "Sit down, sit down." A little guy soon sidled up to our hostess, "My grandson," she said, "I am taking care of him." He was shy, and as we took turns introducing ourselves an...

One of the rules which the scholarship program directiva has set up in our sister community is this: Kids in the scholarship program must attend Sunday School. The merging of church and public education in El Salvador is a little different from our North American education experience. Prayer and celebration of Christian holidays is part of public school life, and part of the culture that Europeans brought to the country. The scholarship program allows church resources to help kids to go to public schools, and it is OK to ask kids to attend Sunday School. Parents do not have a problem with this. Sending their kindergarten through sixth grade kids to a wholesome, Bible-centered, safe place on Sunday morning is wonderful, and it's a known expectation from the beginning. For the kids, hanging out with the Lutherans, whether their parents are Roman Catholic or Pentecostal or members of the the Baptist Biblical Tabernacle Friends of Israel, is no big deal. Sunday School is fun. K...

I have a rule. If someone in El Salvador gives me a bracelet, I wear it until it breaks. Well, I actually do more than just wear it. I think about the one who gave me the bracelet whenever it catches my eye, and I try to pray for the giver at least once during each day. And when a bracelet finally breaks, I feel really sad for a bit. Right now , I am wearing three bracelets. One has a pattern of 4 orange beads which alternate with 2 dull white beads which used to be pink. The beads are strung on sturdy fish line and the clasp is a little silver screw-together type. It was a gift from Maria - a little expression of thanks after she and her daughters gave me a tour of her home. It was a warm and wonderful visit, with the girls showing me their bed and their treasures. It was a difficult visit as Maria pulled aside the old bed spring gate, ducked under a neighbor's electric line, and showed me the holes in the roof where the wind-caught tin was bent. I couldn't he...

The first time that my kids were in El Salvador was quite an adventure - for lots of reasons. We all learn as we go, and a couple of pieces of good learning came out of that trip. Our church has a sister church in El Salvador, and we had made a couple of trips to visit when we got the idea to do a family trip over Christmas break. Even though we were early on in our relationship, we recognized the importance of getting together as families, staying in homes, sharing traditions and just hanging out. So, that's what we did. Kids do not need to know Spanish in order to play together. That is a lesson for the grown-ups. Play happened. Soccer and North American football. Circle games in which our kids never did get the rules, and lots of "can you come to my house?" adventures.** There were baptisms, confirmations and even a wedding. There was a dance, fireworks tossed on the rooftops (not by our kids - but it did fascinate them), and lots of tortillas. Eventually, kids ...