Poor kitty

Our kitty Misha didn't make it through her last bout of sickness. She died the morning we officially started back to work here, which was not a good start to the work year.

My friend Emily's cat had kittens back around Thanksgiving, and we had already offered to take one, so on Saturday she dropped off a little calico. Despite the fact that we all had our reservations about getting a new cat so soon, she's won us over with her ridiculous cuteness.

We've been spoiling her all weekend long as she gets passed from one person to the next, cuddled and played with. Today, we were gone all day. As soon as we walked in the door, I went to check on her. She was meowing, loudly, indignantly. I checked in her basket. It was empty. Behind the washing machine where Stephen says she likes to sleep. Not there. She sounded closer though. Then I looked down. We have a utility sink in the laundry room, and I couldn't get it to drain the other day when I was cleaning. It has an inch or 2 of nasty water at the bottom. And there was our sweet kitten, standing in the water, bedraggled, wet, smelly, and shivering.

I fished her out, brought her upstairs, dried her off with a blow-drier, and then sandwiched her between my shirt and my stomach so she would warm up. She stayed there for a long time, shivering anytime I peeked to look at her, but now she's back to her happy self, curled up on my lap and cleaning off the nasty water she fell in.

Isn't she cute?

Disposable

Sara and I are standing in the doorway, waving good bye, when he shuffles around the corner, startling me. He clenches a torn sheet around his shoulders, his beard is overgrown, but it's his eyes that catch my attention. They're piercing, hurt, and look at me more directly than I've grown to expect from men on the street. He asks if we have any bread and Sara goes to get him some, while I stay in the open doorway. He greets me, I ask how he is. "Soy desechable" he tells me, "I'm disposable". It's a term used here to describe the homeless. Unwanted. Unworthy. Unvalued. "They might say that about you", I tell him. "But you're not, you're a human, made in God's image and likeness. You are worthy, and you have value." He thanks me, and I stand, not sure what to say or do next. Sara comes to the door with bread and cheese and hands it to him, and he shuffles off again.

And I wonder, did he know I really meant it? Were those few words, and a bite to eat offered from our house enough to give him even a glimmer of hope? Does he believe the lies he hears about himself? Is he, in his own mind, disposable?

I pray for him. I pray for me. I pray all of us, broken, reaching out to other broken lives.

Around the table

One thing that I looked forward to as I moved into Torre Fuerte was the opportunity it would give me to have guests over. This past year, the moments I've spent around our table, laughing with friends over food, have been some of my favorites.

Coming back after spending time with my family, one of the things that made it easiest to come back was the community we've built around the table. My first week back, there were only 2 days that there wasn't someone sharing a meal with us at home. Friends called to see if they could stop by. All of us who'd been out of the country brought back things for those who couldn't travel, and we got together to catch up, give gifts and packages that had been sent to us for them, and just hang out. As the afternoon stretched on towards evening and we all started getting hungry, we naturally gravitated towards the kitchen and started cooking- a trip to the corner store to pick up missing ingredients, more laughter as we cut and stir and taste. "where there's enough for 4 there's enough for 5 (or 6, or 7. . .)" has been heard many times here, as another friend drops by, or a housemate not expected back until late walks in as we're setting the table.

Of course, once we settle back into our work schedules and we're with kids again, we'll be busier; I doubt we'll have another week with friends around our table 5 days out of 7. But, they'll still be here from time to time, and as we enjoy each others cooking, we'll share laughter, work through our struggles, encourage one another, and grow in community.

"Always be eager to practice hospitality." Romans 12:13b

A guava walks into a corner store. . .

I pull our metal shopping cart behind me as Rae Ann and I walk into the meat section of Palo Quemao, the indoor market. I don't like the smell in this section, and I've stopped buying meat here ever since my friend at cooking school told me about a study they did on the hygiene of the meat here. But, it's the closest entrance from my house.

Once we've walked down that corridor though, we come out into the central room, my favorite. It's full of fruits and vegetables, every stand run by a different vendor.

I choose tomatoes, sample strawberries (and buy a pound for 60 cents), and stock up on more fruits and vegetables. The problem with Palo Quemao is we always buy too much. It's cheaper, fresher, and there are way more options than at the local grocery store. Then we have to be creative to use everything before it goes bad.

The market is a labyrinth that I still get lost in. One section sells only citrus fruits. Another sells beautiful hand-made baskets, vases, and other house decorations. Then there are the small stalls selling bulk grains, dry goods, and paper products. If you get there early enough in the morning, outside there are dozens of flower vendors, selling roses, $2.50 a dozen. One day we stumbled across several kinds of chili peppers (which I haven't seen anywhere else), and I know one stand that sells bok choy and Chinese cabbage.

We remember to stop and pick up eggs and cheese on the way out. You can buy them singly, or in flats of 30. We don't refrigerate eggs here and it doesn't seem to be a problem.

Stocked up on groceries for the week, we head home.

We have traditional grocery stores here too, though the aisles are narrower, the options different, and the salad dressing selection and canned tomato products almost non-existent. But, on days when we have time before Palo Quemao closes in the afternoon, I love to do my shopping there.

Help us remodel the Jungle

I'm super excited about a matching grant Formando Vidas has received, and I want to share about it with you and ask for your help.

I think I've talked on my blog before about the Jungle. Twice a month we invite neighborhood children to our indoor play space. We've been averaging around 150 children lately. The neighborhood isn't pretty- homeless men sleep on the street, the sidewalks are littered with garbage and dog poop, the smell of pot wafts from open windows, prostitutes wait in doorways a few blocks away. Many families rent rooms by the day, an entire family living in a room smaller than a walk-in closet.

When kids come to the jungle, they have a safe space to play. They scale the climbing wall, slide down the slide into the ball pit, cross the swinging bridge, slide down the fireman's pole, play foosball, soccer, ping-pong, basketball, mini-golf; make-believe in our playhouse, swing in the hammocks. Some of them come with guarded faces, but before they have left they are laughing, unguarded, free to be kids for a few hours.

After a couple of hours, we gather the kids together. They sing, they watch a puppet show or skit, and they hear us share God's word with them. We divide them into small groups and work on a craft with them that reinforces the message for the day. Before they leave we give them a snack.

Just last month we started something new- in another building down the street we've invited mom's to attend a program while their kids are playing. The first week, 30 women showed up to share, pray for each other and hear God's word. We're partnering with a local church that has begun to meet in the Jungle building. They've seen new people coming to their church as we recommend them to families that are looking for a church.

We would love to reopen a smaller program several days a week to reach out to some of the most consistent children. To do that we need to pay off the Jungle and complete a remodeling job to create classroom and kitchen space and update our bathrooms. We need your help to do that! A company has offered us a $36,000 matching grant- for every dollar we raise, they will donate a dollar up to the $36,000. We're hoping to find 1000 donors who will give $36! For $72,000 we could completely pay off what we still owe on the buildings and complete the remodeling project in the jungle. Click the link to find out how to give a tax-deductible donation to our matching gift grant! Your gift will be a blessing to kids in Barrio Santa Fe in Bogotá, Colombia!

highlights from my first day back

*playing with my little siblings * talking to my mom * pepperoni * a hot shower with decent water pressure * Hershey's kisses * pepper jack cheese * no traffic * indoor heating * orange juice * hot water in the kitchen sink * milk that doesn't come in a bag * a QUIET bedroom *

contrasts

I live in a city of 7 million. The other week, from my bedroom window I watched fireworks being set off from the 50 story Colpatria tower, the tallest building in Bogotá, just 12 blocks away. Every night as I lay in bed, the glass in my windows rattles as buses speed past. I can think of 7 bakeries within easy walking distance (and I'm sure I'm forgetting several). I can hail a cab or catch a bus just outside my front door.

And yet, every morning as I'm getting ready, I hear a rooster crow through our open bathroom window.