Rips and Lines

Today when we went to the centro (we got up at 6 am to make it there by 7 am) in order to stand in line for the Department of Justice to accomplish the first part of our DNI paperwork, Chris and the boys let me walk for a BLOCK AND A HALF with a 6 inch rip in my jeans. Chris says he was trying to figure out how to tell me. What? So, I basically mooned Argentines for a block and a half. Seriously. I think it must have happened when I was getting out of the taxi with Johnny on my lap, my purse, our breakfast, and watching out for Andrew and David (and their backpacks) all with only one cup of coffee running through my veins. Nice life.

Luckily I had a long purse so I was able to hide my buttcheek. (Sorry - or thankfully - no photos for this post.)

We waited for 45 minutes in order to get paperwork that we had to fill out with the help of a translator. We will need to return to the Centro to pay the money for the paperwork to be processed (at the National Argentina Bank) and then go back to the Dept. of Justice to get fingerprinted. I'm sure we'll wait in many more lines before we get our numeros and become official Argentine nationals. I just hope there will be no more open lines running down my back side. Geesh.

¡Happy Día de Córdoba!

Chris's First Blog Post

Two days ago, I was laying in Johnny’s bed with him and saying a blessing on him. When I was finished, he looked at me and said, “That was a nerdy prayer, Dad.”

Being here in Argentina for almost two months has been a big adjustment for us all. There have been challenges, but also some good laughs and the beloved visits to Grido, the local heladería (ice cream shop). Here are some themes that I have been thinking about:

PATIENCE

Things just take longer to do here since things move slower, and we are also still in the process of learning the language. We have had many tests of our patience. We are learning to slow down a bit and not be so expectant that we are going to be able to get done what we need to do quickly and easily. I am adapting, but I am still more uptight than Krista. She has to regularly remind me to “chill”.

HUMILITY

One area that has required humility has been being so dependent on people here for help for simple things. We have been so used to being self-sufficient and living in that way.

We couldn’t just rent a house on our own. One of our new friends here had to put our rental in his name since we do not have our DNI yet. Another couple from the church who own their own small home had to be co-signers on our rental agreement. Since we did not (and still do not) have a car, someone from the church had to drive us around to look at houses that were available to rent. We are borrowing the pastor’s old cell phone (probably from 1990). My friend Diego had to talk to the owner of the house we are renting to explain why the fuse box needed to be updated. He also had to make the call for me to order cable and WiFi for our house. The list goes on and on. It’s sometimes easier to be the giver than the one receiving assistance, but I believe it is a hidden form of pride for me not to be willing to ask for and accept help from others.

FAITH AND DEPENDENCE ON GOD

The whole process of being more open to the possibility of leaving our great life in Santa Barbara, deciding to go and then preparing to leave was itself a learning process in our spiritual lives. It was exciting, scary and invigorating all at the same time. In our lives here in Argentina, we have had to learn to depend on God (by necessity) more fully. We have had (and still have) much more uncertainty about the days ahead than we have ever had in our lives. This has forced us to keep coming to God to ask for His help, assistance, patience, etc. We want to take full advantage of our situation here to learn to depend on Him more. And, not just to depend on Him like the big Santa Clause in the sky who we bring our requests to. We are trying to allow Him to mold us more into the kind of disciples He wants us to be.

GOD'S FAMILY

I met a man named Ramón and another man named Marcelo while we were waiting to pick up the kids at school one day. I had a nice conversation with them. They go to a local Pentecostal church here. Two days later, I saw Ramón again and greeted him (which includes a kiss on the cheek here, even for men). Ramón said that when he was doing his devotional that day, he was thinking of our family and he was praying for me. He informed me that he was going to continue to pray for me every day. I feel like I get a better view of God by getting to know His followers in other parts of the world. From an external perspective, I have little in common with Ramón. But, we love the same God and we are both trying to follow Him faithfully in our lives. We both have wives and children who we love and we are trying to be good husbands and fathers.

The other day I was having a hard day. I was missing my family and friends back home, and I was feeling uncertainty of what God has for us here. Then, I received an e-mail from our Spanish teacher’s husband (his name is German) to Krista and me telling us how thankful he is for our friendship. He affirmed that God has a purpose for us here that is bigger than we realize. German is my closest friend here so far and to receive this message from him just when I needed it, was an encouragement. German is taking leadership in Cristo para La Ciudad (Christ for the City) in Argentina.

SPANISH

The other night before dinner, I prayed in Spanish. It felt good. There is something awesome about being able to communicate with God in another language. When I do pray in Spanish, I also feel a bond with believers here.

Krista spent about 3 hours yesterday with the pastor’s wife fellowshipping and practicing her Spanish. It’s good for her to practice her Spanish without me there. I’m quick to start speaking with whoever I can in Spanish and feel like making mistakes is part of the learning process. Krista has been more careful in her Spanish and more timid to speak.

I read 3 chapters from the Bible each morning in Spanish out loud. I have really enjoyed that. When we are at church (almost a 3 hour service), Krista and I both usually understand a lot since we are familiar with scripture. As we sing songs in Spanish in the church, I think about our friends back home who are singing some of the same songs in English. The services are like a rock concert in some ways. People worship God with such enthusiasm. We enjoy joining them in this. They are full of passion to praise God and to live in a way that honors Him. They have a deep faith that God will provide for them and bring healing into their lives when they need it. The other Sunday when I took out a piece of paper to take notes on the pastor’s sermon (my notes were in English – I hope I can take notes in Spanish in a couple months), there were notes from Steve and Reed Jolley’s sermons on three of the 4 flaps. The blank space that I used to take notes on Rubén’s sermon symbolized to me that God has more to teach me here as part of this new journey.

The kids are progressing well in their Spanish. Now that they are in school each day where everything is in Spanish, they are going to learn more quickly. David and Krista have been working on David’s homework for about an hour so far. Andrew just finished reading a Bible story to Johnny in Spanish. I think his accent is better than ours. While the kids are at school each day, Krista and I have Spanish lessons for three hours with our friend Karina. We work on “homework” in the afternoons/nights, have times in our houses of speaking only in Spanish, watch television/movies in Spanish and try to practice with people as much as we can. We are getting better each day, but it is a humbling process. When people tell us we are doing great, we cannot help but wonder if they are being honest or just being nice (out of a sense of pity!).

I have had a hard time trying to figure out how we are going to communicate all that we are experiencing and learning with our friends back home. So…I figured that I just need to start the process with this blog entry. However, now I need to go. We are off to the 7 pm church service. ¡Vamos a la casa de Dios para alabar Su Nombre!

Haroldo Andenmatten

That's the name of David, Andrew, & Johnny's new school: Colegio Evangelico Haroldo Andenmatten (or Haroldo for short).

Today was a big day for all of us.

All 3 boys went to school in a new land, with a new language, wearing new uniforms.

The greatest thing was the amazing welcome each one got from all the other students and teachers. After first dropping off Johnny in his classroom (I held back tears), we walked up to the David & Andrew's side of the school and a swarm of students (probably 60) came out to greet them. Andrew loved it, David was overwhelmed. The students were very kind and I felt such relief to see happy, smiling faces directed toward my boys.

"Chau, mis amores."

It was a good start. We are anxious to see what the future holds, but are choosing to rest in the goodness of today. I know the days ahead will be difficult for each of the boys as they try to grasp the language and make friends with kids from a culture different than what they’re used to.

It was much harder than I thought it would be, but it felt so right at the same time.

My New Friend: My Oven

An interesting thing here in Argentina, that I didn't anticipate, is re-learning how to cook. Many items I'm used to cooking with are not really available here. But there are many other great things that are, including fresh, organic vegetables and fruits available right down the street; carnecerias (meat stands) with amazingly inexpensive and delicious Argentine meat; empenada stands that deliver beautifully tasting empanadas for no additional charge; and panadarias (bakeries) with new surprises and the staple of criollos & chipacas every day.

I never thought I'd post about something I cooked (there are plenty of recipe and cooking sites out there with far better food than I could or would even want to create). But, I did want to show you our oven and what it takes to bake.

Here is the oven. It's cute. We've become well aquainted the past 2 weeks.

Here is how you turn the gas on. Pull the handle and turn it a little until you hear/smell the gas. Notice that there is no temperature gauge. I can tell when the food is done based on my

super-hero sense of smell.

Yes, I promise, I'm that good.

Open the door. Make sure there is enough water in the pan inside to prevent burning and to create a more moist atmosphere.

(I said that last part especially for Annie.)

Remove the bottom "shelf" of the oven to expose the gas thing. Use a lighter to light it. Put the shelf back on. Put your creation on a rack and close the oven door.

And this is what we created today. They tasted as good as they looked.

We're off to the Disco (the supermercado) to buy a cookie sheet. Snickerdoodles are next.

Peluqueria (Hair Salon)

There are so many things I could post about, including our new (very good) friends, "descanso" to Carlos Paz (for my own well-being, I will write about that someday), getting the package my mom sent from the post office (total miracle – seriously), Johnny’s conversation with “blah-blah” the stuffed rabbit that was in the package my mom sent, our 3 hour worship services that begin at 7:00 pm, crossing the street, hang-drying the laundry of 3 dirty boys and 2 semi-clean adults, getting wi-fi service, using a bidet (just kidding – no attempts yet), feeling the profound loss of not being “home” with suffering friends, feeling extreme thankfulness for the abundant provisions God has given us in new friends, amazingly delicious (and cheap) vegetable stands and carnecerías within walking distance from our home, the trash service that picks up our trash bags every night, my thoughts upon learning that people love the irony of The Simpsons here, or the amazing taste of the water from the Sierras straight from the tap. BUT, since I’m not going to write about any of those, I am going to post about the boys’ haircuts and my trip to the peluqueria today.

There is a man in the church named Gustavo. He has greatly benefitted from the micro-finance program that the church started and that we plan to continue. (Which will happen whenever God chooses to grant us a miracle and allow us to speak Castillano - pronounced “Cah-stee-sha-no”. All “ll” and “y” sounds are pronounced “sh” or “je” – it’s so much more difficult than I could have ever imagined.) Gustavo was given a loan and with the money bought a scooter in order to go to peoples’ houses to give them hair cuts. He paid back the loan, was given another, and opened his own peluqueria (the one I will be writing about in this post). Later, he paid back that loan and hired another employee and now owns 2 salons. He’s great.

He came to our house today and cut the hair of each of my boys. First, Andrés.

It’s very short and he wore it in a faux-hawk all day. As I’ve stated before, I don’t want to fight with the kids about simple things like their hairstyle. However, it was a little difficult to sweep up the massive amount of hair that Gustavo cut off.

The same goes for Johnny. He has a little Argentine flair in the back that I’m not sure I can handle right now. Chris likes it. I don’t know if Johnny does and I’m not sure if I’m going to ask him if he likes it or just cut it off. As Gustavo said, “It’s the modern look.” ¡Tiene cinco años! I don’t need (or want) him to look modern.

David just had a little cut off. He HATES getting his hair cut. “Está bien” was what he kept saying. Gustavo did a great job.

Entonces, Gustavo returned at 5:15 – as promised – to pick me up for my “appointment” with his wife, Carina, who I was told was mejor (better) at doing tinturas (color). As I rode in the car with Gustavo and his friend Fabio (who was driving), I was able to see the engine work (literally – I could see the engine from my seat in the back) its way through the streets of Córdoba Capital. I got to the peluqueria and was immediately overcome with feelings of homesickness and fear.

I’m going to be completely honest here. I don’t care a ton about how I look and do not spend a lot of time primping or getting ready (I often forget to look in the mirror when in the bathroom and then have feelings of insecurity when I exit – like I have a booger hanging out of my nose or something). However. I do care about how I look. Regarding my hair, my roots were revealing themselves and I have been feeling extremely ugly. Stupid and mundane and worldy, I know. But, it’s the dang truth.

I had no idea what was going to happen in the “salon” but I kept telling myself that it’s just hair and even if the color doesn’t look right or even if all my hair falls out, I’d be able to survive. Chris will still love me and would buy me a nice new scarf or hat or something to hide my huge, bald head. The boys would probably laugh and think it’s sad, but funny and cool.

I waited for 2 hours. During that time, we chatted about George W. Bush. I am totally serious. I said with a laugh in Castillano/Spanish: “I cannot believe I’m talking American politics in Spanish in Argentina. I barely speak Castillano, I don’t understand politics in English, and I doubt I understand George W. Bush.” His wife finally said, “¡Basta, Gustavo!” (Enough, Gustavo!) It was hilarious.

Carina let me pick the colors for my hair and then colored my roots and made the rest of my hair a little more dark ("más oscuro, por favor"). I was praying I said the right thing. When the color was on, I swear I thought it was going to be white. I just tried to listen to the Spanish and learn while I waited una media hora for it to turn the right color.

I freaked out a little when after Carina was done straightening and totally transforming another woman’s hair into a shade of copper (it was amazing and really pretty, but copper is not quite the right color for me) when she said that was the style she was imagining for me. She washed my hair, combed it, cut it, and dried it. Here is the result:

I am not going to have straight hair. (It took her 30 minutes to dry it straight.) I know that the thing these days is straight hair. I happen to like my curly hair and will continue to embrace it here. The unruly curls suit me, don’t you think?

When I got home at 8:45 to Chris, Karina and the boys, here were their responses:

Chris: Are you okay? Wow, you look nice.

Karina: Wow! ¿Te gusta? ¡Es lindo!

David: Hi Mom! What? Oh. You look different. I like it.

Andrés: Sorry, mom. I don’t really like it. I like your curls.

Johnny: Hmm. You look nerdy.

I’m going to drink a nice big glass of delicious Argentine wine now. ¡Bueñas noches!