...
My friend Corina works with families who are trying to leave the streets. Once a month they hold a church service on a Friday night. The families really enjoy it, singing and learning and being able to spend time together as a group. The tough part comes when they try to head for home. Most of these families have young children and many have babies. On a good day, their bus ride home means well over an hour on two different buses. On a Friday evening, that ride can be even longer. To make the situation even more difficult, buses here often don’t stop for families. Only the adults have to pay, the children ride free, so bus drivers don’t think it’s worth their time or effort.
Corina wrote in one of her update letters that families often wait on the street for over an hour before a bus will stop to pick them up. Imagine having three or four young children (maybe a baby) and having to wait in the dark for over an hour for a bus.
When I read that (last April), I decided that I wanted to help out. Maybe this sounds strange (being that I’m a missionary and ministry is more or less what I do), but I felt like I wanted to volunteer my time somewhere. As well, when God gave me my truck (and a nice truck it is), I said that I wanted to be a blessing to others with it. So when I came back to Bolivia in August, I called Corina and offered to take people home after the church service.
All that to say...this has turned into quite a funny little adventure every month. I take my guys to youth group at our church, before I head over to El Jordan (Corina’s ministry) to pick up people there. I usually wait outside and I know exactly when church is finished, as a wave of little kids come running out of the building to pile into my truck. Last night I had fifteen people (adults and little kids) in the cab of my truck (it’s a double cab, but still...) with another fifteen to twenty people in the box. My poor truck felt like it was driving with the front two tires off the ground.
The first time I drove, I wasn’t really sure where I was going. The back window of my truck goes down, so opened it so people could give me directions. At every intersection or traffic circle I would yell (over the din of thirty some people laughing and talking), “Recto? (Straight?)” and everyone would yell back, “RECTO!” and then the little guy in the back seat who was just learning to talk would repeat, “Recto!” and everyone would laugh. It was pretty entertaining.
Since none of these people have a vehicle, and only take the bus when they travel, some of them get confused as to where they are when we’re driving in the truck. Last night all of a sudden someone started pounding on the roof of my truck...the not so subtle signal for me to stop. I carefully worked my way through the traffic to the curb to let them out. But by the time I got there, they’d realized we weren’t where they thought we were....and so they didn’t get out.
It was a bit confusing, as to what was happening. We were just sitting there. I was pretty sure the pounding on the roof of the truck meant stop. I think, in the end, the people were too embarrassed to acknowledge that they’d made a mistake, and so we just sat there until finally Grandma (in the cab with me) yelled and asked what was going on. There was a moment of silence and then everyone, on cue, yelled, “RECTO!” And off we went again.
At one traffic circle we stopped for a light...right alongside five or six cops who’d been directing traffic or something. I’m thinking there aren’t too many places on earth where you can pull up beside a group of police officers with thirty-some people in your truck, and not even warrant a glance from them. That made me smile.
Everyone was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find my way home (we were pretty far back into one of the poorest neighbourhoods in Santa Cruz). I assured them I’d be fine, and so with thirty or so handshakes and words of thanks, they continued home and I was left trying to decided if I really was fine. Since I’m writing this, obviously I was. But there were a few moments when I just kind of prayed and trusted that God was going to get me out. A couple of times a pillar of flame would have been nice...but in the end, I found my way out.
I really enjoy hanging out with these folks. They’re some of the friendliest and most encouraging people I know. Whenever teams come down from Canada, one of our days is spent dividing up into small groups and going to visit some of these families in their homes. It’s one of my favourite parts of the trip. When you hear their stories and understand where they’ve come from, you realize that their lives are another amazing demonstration of God’s grace and love.
If you have a moment, please pray for these families. It’s not easy for them. Many of the adults themselves, grew up on the streets and now they’re trying to learn how to be good parents for their kids. There’s no end to the list of temptations and struggles they face.
Thanks for taking the time to read this and to pray. Come back tomorrow (Sunday) and I’ll have something new for you. It’s something I’m calling, “Ken’s Home Movies...”.
I know, I know....who wants to watch other people’s home movies. In my defence, however, at least my home movies involve natural disasters and things exploding...
Thanks again everyone!
My friend Corina works with families who are trying to leave the streets. Once a month they hold a church service on a Friday night. The families really enjoy it, singing and learning and being able to spend time together as a group. The tough part comes when they try to head for home. Most of these families have young children and many have babies. On a good day, their bus ride home means well over an hour on two different buses. On a Friday evening, that ride can be even longer. To make the situation even more difficult, buses here often don’t stop for families. Only the adults have to pay, the children ride free, so bus drivers don’t think it’s worth their time or effort.
Corina wrote in one of her update letters that families often wait on the street for over an hour before a bus will stop to pick them up. Imagine having three or four young children (maybe a baby) and having to wait in the dark for over an hour for a bus.
When I read that (last April), I decided that I wanted to help out. Maybe this sounds strange (being that I’m a missionary and ministry is more or less what I do), but I felt like I wanted to volunteer my time somewhere. As well, when God gave me my truck (and a nice truck it is), I said that I wanted to be a blessing to others with it. So when I came back to Bolivia in August, I called Corina and offered to take people home after the church service.
All that to say...this has turned into quite a funny little adventure every month. I take my guys to youth group at our church, before I head over to El Jordan (Corina’s ministry) to pick up people there. I usually wait outside and I know exactly when church is finished, as a wave of little kids come running out of the building to pile into my truck. Last night I had fifteen people (adults and little kids) in the cab of my truck (it’s a double cab, but still...) with another fifteen to twenty people in the box. My poor truck felt like it was driving with the front two tires off the ground.
The first time I drove, I wasn’t really sure where I was going. The back window of my truck goes down, so opened it so people could give me directions. At every intersection or traffic circle I would yell (over the din of thirty some people laughing and talking), “Recto? (Straight?)” and everyone would yell back, “RECTO!” and then the little guy in the back seat who was just learning to talk would repeat, “Recto!” and everyone would laugh. It was pretty entertaining.
Since none of these people have a vehicle, and only take the bus when they travel, some of them get confused as to where they are when we’re driving in the truck. Last night all of a sudden someone started pounding on the roof of my truck...the not so subtle signal for me to stop. I carefully worked my way through the traffic to the curb to let them out. But by the time I got there, they’d realized we weren’t where they thought we were....and so they didn’t get out.
It was a bit confusing, as to what was happening. We were just sitting there. I was pretty sure the pounding on the roof of the truck meant stop. I think, in the end, the people were too embarrassed to acknowledge that they’d made a mistake, and so we just sat there until finally Grandma (in the cab with me) yelled and asked what was going on. There was a moment of silence and then everyone, on cue, yelled, “RECTO!” And off we went again.
At one traffic circle we stopped for a light...right alongside five or six cops who’d been directing traffic or something. I’m thinking there aren’t too many places on earth where you can pull up beside a group of police officers with thirty-some people in your truck, and not even warrant a glance from them. That made me smile.
Everyone was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find my way home (we were pretty far back into one of the poorest neighbourhoods in Santa Cruz). I assured them I’d be fine, and so with thirty or so handshakes and words of thanks, they continued home and I was left trying to decided if I really was fine. Since I’m writing this, obviously I was. But there were a few moments when I just kind of prayed and trusted that God was going to get me out. A couple of times a pillar of flame would have been nice...but in the end, I found my way out.
I really enjoy hanging out with these folks. They’re some of the friendliest and most encouraging people I know. Whenever teams come down from Canada, one of our days is spent dividing up into small groups and going to visit some of these families in their homes. It’s one of my favourite parts of the trip. When you hear their stories and understand where they’ve come from, you realize that their lives are another amazing demonstration of God’s grace and love.
If you have a moment, please pray for these families. It’s not easy for them. Many of the adults themselves, grew up on the streets and now they’re trying to learn how to be good parents for their kids. There’s no end to the list of temptations and struggles they face.
Thanks for taking the time to read this and to pray. Come back tomorrow (Sunday) and I’ll have something new for you. It’s something I’m calling, “Ken’s Home Movies...”.
I know, I know....who wants to watch other people’s home movies. In my defence, however, at least my home movies involve natural disasters and things exploding...
Thanks again everyone!
0 comments:
Post a Comment