And I'm back...

So...obviously I made back to Bolivia safe and sound.  After a sleepless night in Cartagena waking up and wondering every hour on the hour, if I was going to have to fight with the various airlines over the weight of my carry-on...no one even looked at it.  =)  Well...I guess more acurately would be to say they didn't weigh it.  They definitely looked at it. 

Columbia is a tough country to leave.  We had to go through four different security checks where they completely took my bags apart (my friend said that they actually handwand x-rayed her stomach).  And, as it turns out, it also makes US Customs people twitchy when they see you're arriving from Columbia and headed for Bolivia.  The customs guy looked at me...looked at my customs form and said, "Door 15". 

Door 15 led me down a long corridor (all by myself) to another big, kind of scary, set of doors.  Through that door was a big area with x-ray machines and tables and little cubicles that I was pretty sure I didn't want to go into.  A big security type guy took my form and asked me why in the world I was coming from Columbia and leaving for Bolivia.  I earnestly explained that I was a missionary and was headed back to Bolivia where I work with ex-street kids (I get that into every conversation I can).  He looked sternly at me and then started to laugh and told me I could go.  So I did.  Quickly.  Before he changed his mind. 

Then I had an 11 hour wait in what must be the most boring airport in North America.  I couldn't even check in for the first seven hours so I had to push all my luggage around with me. 

My funniest moment came later at the American Airlines desk when I could finally check in.  My first bag was over weight...but just.  The AA lady gave me the lecture about over weight bags, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it and she let me check that bag.  I pulled that one off the scale and put the other one on. 

Yea...it was even heavier. 

So she told me that for sure I couldn't check that bag unless I took something out of it.  So I opened the bag and pulled out a big bag of coffee that had been given to us at the conference.  She said that yes, that was enough.  I promptly (in full view of this lady) put the bag of coffee into my other over weight bag that she'd just checked in.  She didn't even notice.  I laughed...but I made sure I used my inside voice.  You don't want to get the airline ladies annoyed with you.

After that it was just a seven hour flight beside a big, old guy and I was home.  It was funny...it was Jimmy, Andres and Roberto who met me at the airport in Santa Cruz, with no other adults there (Jimmy had driven).  Which was fine...it just felt strange that it was just them...my guys are growing up.  =) 

And so here I am.  I kind of got tossed into the deep end of the pool that first day.  I got to sleep for a couple of hours and then Maribel arrived and told me that the mom of one of the guys we know was at the house and was waiting to talk to me about her son moving in.  I had to tell her (for a number of reasons) that he wouldn't be able to.  Then it was one kind of intense conversation after another all day.  It was all good mind you...just a bit much all at once.  Today wasn't much better...but I'm sure it'll slow down soon.  This is what happens when I'm gone for awhile.  =)  Guess that means they missed me...

Thanks for praying everyone!  Miss you all...
  

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Columbia...

In the ongoing adventure that is my life, I find myself in Cartagena, Columbia. Yes…I know…

Contrary to the strongly voiced opinion of the lady at the airline’s check-in counter, my overweight carry-on did not, if fact, make the plane crash. We arrived just fine. Granted my carry-on was heavier than my checked luggage, but if it doesn’t bother American Airlines…it shouldn’t bother you. It’s the only way I can get all my books and heavy stuff (heavy stuff being the two kilos of chocolate my friend bought me in Austria) on the plane. For the first time ever in my experience, an airline decided to weigh all the carry-ons. So I got busted. The lady told me that if I could get my carry-on down to 12 kilos, she’d let me get on the plane.

Since I was starting at 21 kilos…it seemed that was going to be quite a feat. After three tries I managed to get it down to 13.5 and with a sad and imploring look (and with my shorts falling down from 7 kilos of books stuffed in the pockets) the lady let me get on the plane. Then of course, after that experience I was paranoid the rest of the trip. I kept expecting someone to notice that I could barely lift my bag into the overhead compartment and start yelling at me again.

I guess I should mention why I find myself in Columbia. Life as a missionary is an interesting one, but it definitely has its ups and downs. On the downside, you live thousands of miles from your family and friends…not to mention 7-11’s and Wal-Mart. On the upside, you do get the opportunity to travel and see cool places. It doesn’t happen every day mind you. But it does happen. My mission is holding their regional conference in Columbia this year, and since it wasn’t far off my trip from Miami back to Santa Cruz, I thought I’d attend.

It’s been interesting and very encouraging so far. The founder of International Teams, Kevin Dyer, is speaking and he’s been great. Interesting side note (to me anyhow), I was on the plane with him and his wife from Miami. I actually knew he and a few other IT missionaries were going to be on the flight, but after my battle with the grumpy airline lady I got distracted and forgot. So while Kevin and his wife and all the other missionaries on the flight sat together and visited at the gate, I was sitting in the food court reading a book. ‘Cause you know…that’s so much better than meeting the guy who started the whole shebang.

I didn’t remember they were there until we were in line at immigration in Columbia. Even funnier was that after I remembered and saw them in the line, they talked to the young couple who had been sitting beside me on the plane. They were the other IT people. We sat beside each other all the way from Miami and didn’t talk at all. In our defense, I slept and they were excited about being able to watch a movie in English on the private monitors we all had. So…you know…the priorities of a missionary…

Last night Kevin talked about the history of IT and the different stages it’s gone through…the difficult moments and the celebrations. Then tonight he talked about some of the things he’s learned over the years. Like I said, it’s been very interesting. So much of what he shared felt very applicable to my situation, as I’m moving forward with our building project. Kind of an in over your head but excited to see what God is going to do kind of thing. There were so many moments I felt like he was talking directly to me (and he even kept looking at me…although that might be because I shaved my head and I look like Mr. Clean).

At any rate, we’re only at the halfway point of the conference and I already feel much more encouraged and ready for this next step. It’s good to hear from those who’ve gone ahead of us and learn from their experiences and wisdom.

On Thursday I’ll be sharing in the morning session (just for a bit) about the home and ministry in Santa Cruz. I’m excited and a little nervous (terrified?) at the same time. I’m excited to talk about what God’s doing, but it’s still kind of nerve wracking to get up in front of a crowd of people who’ve been doing this for a lot longer than you have and talk about your work. But it’ll be good.

Besides…I get to spend the afternoon snorkelling, so I’m sure that’ll help me forget any stupid things I manage to say in the morning. As another side note, Cartagena is a pretty cool place. It’s very historic. I’ve only seen the old part of the city from a distance (I’m going on a tour on Thursday) but people tell me it reminds them of Quebec City. So that should be interesting. Our hotel is on this crazy, narrow peninsula with about a hundred other hotels. Tonight we had supper in the seafood restaurant on the 23rd floor with a 280 degree view of the city. Amazing stuff…

Anyhow, feel free to pray for me on Thursday. I’d appreciate it. I’ve been enjoying getting to know some of our other missionaries from across Latin America (basically I knew no one), but I’ve decided I’m the only missionary (possibly on the planet but certainly within IT) who isn’t a morning person. We were put in groups of three to pray together and my group decided (well…two of them decided) that we should meet at 7 AM. I was like, “You want to get up in the middle of the night to pray?” I got them down to 7:30 over breakfast. And breakfast rocks here…so it’s working out. =) Don’t worry…God knows me…he understands.

And in my ongoing quest to annoy everyone in Canada…let me just share that it was + 33 C today and I spent a couple of hours sitting on the beach reading a book. I also got a foot massage from some lady who wouldn’t leave me alone (it’s a common thing here I guess). You’re supposed to pay for it, and I told her no a bunch of times but she wouldn’t give up. She went ahead anyhow and then I explained that I didn’t bring any money to the beach so it ended up being free. So…not my fault…

And…oh yea…and did I mention I’m going snorkelling tomorrow?
 

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Talking with Andres...

This is a short interview I did with Andres when he was studying about why the opportunity to live at the house was important to him.  Andres went on to complete his degree in Finance Engineering (Business) and now works for the ministry handling the finances and much of the day to day running of the ministry.





 

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A prayer request...

UPDATE BELOW...

It's been a strange couple of years health wise for me.  It started when I got rear-ended with my truck and they thought I'd broken a vertebrae in my neck.  The medical people suddently came over to my bed after looking at the x-ray and tried to stabilize my head.  Of course they didn't have a collar so they made one out of cardboard and gauze.  It didn't really work.   

Then there was the crazy "Ken you only have one kidney.  And it might have cancer." conversation.  That was a weird one.

And now it's Typhoid and a stomach that doesn't really like most foods.  I've lost 30 lbs (which is nice) but I'm tired of not really knowing what's going on.  As a weight loss system I don't really recommend it.

Anyhow...tomorrow I'm off in the cold and snow to Kindersley (a couple of hours from Saskatoon for those of you who don't know) to get a camera put down my throat.  I've had this done before and it rates high on my list of things I don't like much.  So I'd appreciate prayer. 

Thanks everyone.  I'll let you know how it goes...  =)

UPDATE:  Things went well.  I was sitting there in my smock and robe watching all the old people recover from their test (there was a line) and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.  I thought, "Maybe I'm just the wimpy one..."  I've had this test done before, and I HATE it. 

When when it was my turn to get an IV I asked the nurse about it and she told me that they knock you right out.  Seriously?  Excellent...  So I was in my happy place when they stuck the big camera down my throat (unconscious).  As per usual, my blood preasure and heart rate dropped during the exam (that's normal for me) so they kept me in a bit longer than everyone else (ie. the 80 year old grandpa) but that was fine.  The lady paramedic was kind of cute.  Although...she was in her paramedic uniform (I think she was just helping out) and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why the RCMP were in my hospital room.  I also seemed to think that talking about my boxers would make me seem cool.  Seriously kids...don't do drugs.

The nurse didn't know much about the results, but she said that if it was anything serious, the doctor would have asked to talk to me before I left.  He didn't.  So whatever it is, it seems it's not a big deal.  I'll know more next week.  So...there you go...
   

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Our Stories...

I have a couple of friends. They’re not my only friends...but they’re good friends. Very good friends. We were rebellious youth pastor’s together back in the day. We have many stories that are best not shared here.

Each year when I come home to Canada we get together and do something fun. I think they’re trying to relive the wild days of our early years in ministry. It’s understandable really...they’re both senior pastors now. I live in South America with ten ex-street kids...so I have enough adventure in my life. But I like to tag along with them. They’re much smarter than I am, so I’m always hopeful I’ll learn something by accident. I try to listen when they’re having their deep theological discussion but honestly, my mind usually starts to wander. Sometimes they’ll start laughing and I’ll laugh along like I know what’s going on. But I really don’t.

Last time we got together, we went to a wilderness riding retreat that one of the guys had heard about. He’d read about it in a brochure. We all imagined a nice, rustic lodge where you slept in beds and looked out the windows at the pretty mountains. Turns out he didn’t really read that brochure closely enough. He admitted later that he only glanced at the details.

It was a hard core riding camp where everyone was wearing cowboy hats and boots and long duster cowboy jackets. And army fatigues. I felt out of place in my Sketchers and MEC fleece jacket. Oh...and we slept in tents.

I wanted to turn around and head back to Calgary without even getting out of the van. Fortunately the guys felt guilty doing that so we went in and talked with the cowboy people. We ended up sticking around and it turned into one of the most entertaining and fun-filled three days of my life. One of the cowboys loaned me his winter jacket...so it was all good.

This year that same friend suggested a spiritual retreat centre he knew about. He’d been there before, so he was a little more familiar with this place...which was nice. I enjoyed that last adventure immensely, but I wasn’t really in the mood for another “Let’s sleep in tents and commune with nature” experiences. Besides, it’s -30 C out there. I’m all about the central heating on this trip.

We’re all in different cities now, so we met in Calgary where one of the guys lives. We crashed at his house and being senior pastors they both wanted to get up early to leave for the retreat. Being not a senior pastor, I wasn’t a big fan of the idea. But my friend cooked bacon for breakfast and I am a big fan of bacon. So it worked out.

I’m not really sure what I was expecting. I’ve been so busy I’m not even sure I’d thought much about it. But when we drove up this little, snowy lane through towering pine trees and we saw this nice...wooden...lodge looking out at us through the forest...I knew my friend had redeemed himself.

One of the staff members showed me to my room and I almost cried. A big double bed in a room I didn’t have to share with anyone and a window overlooking this beautiful river valley. It was amazing. After checking out the library, I soon found myself in a building they called “The Greenhouse”. One of the guys fired up the wood burning stove and we settled in with our books. They both had books by authors I didn’t know about things I didn't really understand. But that’s okay. Like I said...they’re both smarter than I am.

I sat there with my book with my feet up and the warm sun shining through the windows, and for the first time in a long while...I felt myself relax. I don’t get a lot of opportunities to sit quietly and read. Usually if I need to get away from the gong show that is our house, I take my book and go to Burger King. And while I appreciate their air conditioning...it’s not a place I consider conducive to peace and quiet.

It was a good feeling to sit there and just read in silence.

Well...mostly in silence. At one point I noticed that my friend’s breathing was getting loud. I ignored it at first...but then it got louder...and louder. I finally glanced over at him and realized he was praying. At least I think he was praying. His book was on his lap, his head was down and his eyes were closed. He’s pretty spiritual so, you know, I imagine that’s what he was doing. I guess he just breathes louder when he prays.

I read a whole book that day. And not even a little, wimpy book. A real book. Maybe not a deep, theological book...but a book none the less. And it really spoke to me. Or rather God spoke to me I guess.

The book was about the Story of God and how our stories...lives... are a part of the Story God is writing.  The author talked about the significance of our stories and being aware of the lives we’re living. He wrote about worrying that someday when he sat down with God to talk about his life and what he did with it, there would be awkward silences and pauses and that he wouldn’t really have anything to say.

I braved the cold later that afternoon and went for a walk with my camera down to the river. It was cold. But I enjoy taking pictures and it helps me to think. As I walked I wished I’d been able to find long johns at Walmart. I also realized how much I enjoy the story that God’s given me. The adventures and great moments I’ve been able to experience. But as I thought about it, I realized that I’ve been less thankful lately, for my part in His Story.

There are lots of reasons I could give, but they don’t really matter. What matters is that God gently reminded me that the story I write with my life is important. It’s not just about Bolivia and street kids and being a missionary. For sure it’s about those things too, but it’s more than that. It’s about my heart and my choices and who I am when no one is watching. It’s about God and who He is. It’s about being thankful for the part I’ve been given. And continuing to write my part of the Story.

Our last night, my two friends and I sat around the fire (in the warm lodge) long after everyone else went to bed and ate cookies and talked about our lives and the stories we were writing.  They didn't put it that way exactly, but it fits with the metaphor and it's what we were doing.  We talked about the good parts and the funny parts and the parts that were painful.  We laughed a lot and told some great stories that are best not shared here. 

Then we prayed for each other and I realized once again how grateful I am for my friends and for their stories. Their stories are a part of my story. Later that evening in my room I thought about how all of our stories are a part of God's Story and how beautiful that is.  It made me thankful again.

From the book...

“If I have a hope, it’s that God sat over the dark nothing and wrote you and me, specifically, into the story. He put us in with the sunset and the rainstorm as if to say, Enjoy your place in my story. The beauty of it means you matter, and you can create within it even as I have created you.”

“We live in a world where bad stories are told, stories that teach us life doesn’t mean anything and that humanity has no great purpose. It’s a good calling, then, to speak a better story. How brightly a better story shines. How grateful we are to hear these stories and how happy it makes us to repeat them.”

God has given us an amazing Story. And within that Story He’s given us the opportunity to interweave our stories with His. I live in a place where there are many bad stories. What a joy it is to hear and be able to speak a better story.

  

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Hanging out at the river...

If you're feeling a little bored and you want a smile...this is a short video of some of the guys showing off for the camera when we went to the river a couple of weeks ago.  They're entertaining....  =)

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Roadtrip!

No new news on Jose Manuel...so I'm guessing that's good.  Tim (one of our interns from Canada) is sick though.  Stomach stuff...  The doc has him on meds and a special diet.  It sounds like he'll be fine, but pray for him.  Being sick in a foriegn country is lame.

Things are going well so far in Canada.  The weather's been nice and it's been great seeing people.  But since that's about all I've got to say, I thought I'd post some pictures from Bolivia, to keep things interesting here.  These are pictures from Jimmy's and my road trip to Cochabamba a few weeks ago.  We went to help my friend Amy (and bring her a couch).

Jimmy and I wanted to get a tarp to cover the couch

and stuff for the trip.  We weren't sure how big it should be

so we told the guy 10 x10.  He didn't have 10 x 10 so he asked if

5 x7 would be okay.  We thought that might be too small,

but we figured we could make due. 

I think it was big enough.

With ten guys "helping" it only took three tries of

packing and unpacking the furniture before we figured it all out...

I've said it before and I'll say it again...

When Bolivian roads are good...they're great!

When they're bad...they're basically non-existent.

There were lots of stop and take a picture

moments, since Jimmy had never been out of

Santa Cruz before...

The last gas station before the "highway" got really adventurous.

Of course we later discovered we weren't in the right line....

but that's another story.

There were some pretty spectacular views.

We made some friends...

Eventually we got up into the clouds.

It made driving a bit complicated...

...but it sure was pretty...

There were a few sights that you don't normally

see in Saskatchewan...

We had fun taking pictures.

Some good advertising for Toyota...

Speaking of advertising for Toyota...

Ah yes...the "highway"...

There weren't exactly a lot of 7-11's or gas stations along the way...

Come back tomorrow or the next day and I'll post a few more pictures of our time in Cochabamba. 

It was a great roadtrip!
 

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Prayer Request

I've been gone for less than a week and one of the guys in the house decided to go into the hospital for emergency surgery to get his appendix out.  Jose Manuel was feeling sick before I left, but we thought it was Dengue.  He seemed a bit better, but then over the weekend he got worse.  Sunday after church he went to see a doctor and the the doctor told him he had to get his appendix out.  So he did.

He's still in the hospital so feel free to pray for him.  He's got a fever, but Maribel told me he's doing better.  Andres (his brother) or either Jorge or Tonchi (our pastors) have had to sleep in the hospital (there has to be someone there with him in case he needs meds or something...they have to go buy them)...so pray for them too.

Thanks everyone!  I'll post more news as I get it.

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To the least of these...

You'd think that with so much poverty and suffering around, it'd be easy to maintain a heart of compassion and concern for the people I see every day. But no. Being a missionary doesn't automatically make you Super Christian Guy or anything. I get lazy and indifferent just like most people do. And like most people, I need the occasional slap upside the head from God.

Last night I was hanging out with a buddy of mine. On the way home we stopped to grab something to eat. My friend asked me if I was going to eat anything (there’s not a lot I can eat right now and I think he felt bad, thinking that I was buying supper just for him). I told him I was going to eat something too and so I ordered a hamburger and fries. As we were waiting for our food, his wife called and something had come up. So we got the food to go, and I took him home.

I was a bit relieved actually ‘cause I knew the burger probably wouldn’t do well in my stomach. But now I had a bag of takeout that I didn’t know what to do with. I figured I could just give it to one of the guys at the house, but then I thought, “Oh, I should give it to a street kid somewhere.” That’s was a nice thought, eh? The only problem was that my route home didn’t go past any of the areas where the street kids tend to hang out. By that time it was already 10:30 at night and most of the kids had hunkered down for the night. I knew I’d have to drive out of my way to find anyone.

A battle raged in my head as I drove...

“If you see a street kid, then fine. You can give him the food. Otherwise David will eat it. He’s always hungry.”

“But it’ll make some kid happy to get some food. I should go find someone.”

“It’s late and you have to be up early tomorrow. It’s not a big deal!”

“But it seems like the right thing to do. Besides...David’s getting fat.”

This went on for most of the ride home, but at the last minute I made a decision and I turned and headed in closer to the centre of town. I wasn’t necessarily happy with my decision (I really was feeling pretty wasted)...but whatever.

The first intersection didn’t have any street kids or window washers and I thought, “See...waste of time.” But then as I pulled up to the next set of lights, I caught a glimpse between the cars of somebody trying to do summersaults. I moment later a gorgeous little girl of about five or six came through the line of cars asking for a coin. I grabbed my bag of food and held it out the window. She saw it and came running over.

“This is supper for you.”

Just then I noticed a young boy of about eight or nine, who I assumed was her brother, coming towards us.

“It’s for both of us?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s for both of you.”

By now her brother realized what was happening and came running up with a smile on his face.

“Some supper for you.” I told him.

The traffic light was about to change, so they took the bag and scurried off the road, all the time telling me, “Thank you! Thank you! God bless you! God bless you!”

As I drove away I could see them going through the bag and the older brother starting to organize the food for the two of them. All I could think of was how close I came to not bothering to find them. That going ten minutes out of my way was almost too much.

May God open my eyes and grant me the strength to never be without compassion. May my heart never be hardened to the suffering of people around me. And may my own selfishness never overcome my desire to show the love of Christ to people who do not know love.

Sometimes a slap upside the head is a good thing.
   

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La Jornada - "The Journey"

This is our story....

dream

 

In 2006, while working at a home for guys coming off the streets, God gave me an idea. It was the dream of something better for the young men I was working with, the dream of a life free from the bondages and addictions of the past. Due to abuse or abandonment, these boys had ended up on the streets, often as young as six or seven years old. Some had been born onto the streets by parents who lived there.

The problem was, even after months or years of being away, many of these young guys would return to their lives on the streets. It was all they knew. Many found it difficult to transition from their lives at the boy’s home, back to life on their own; to move from a controlled environment where all their decisions were made for them, to living alone where often they had little or no support.

Over time, that dream God gave me began to take shape. I envisioned opening a home where guys who had graduated from high school could live and study. A place where they could be encouraged and discipled as they continued their education.

The home would provide for their living expenses as well as pay for their university (or equivalent) education. I wanted them to attend a church and learn what it meant to be a part of a church family, and how to use the gifts and abilities God had given them.

reality

 

In 2007 that dream became a reality. After a long search, and through the generosity of supporters in Canada, I was able to secure a three year lease on a house that more than met our needs. From the moment I set foot in the front yard, I knew this was the place God had for us. It had large rooms and big windows with lots of light. It was like it had been built just for us. When it came time to furnish the house, God again provided for us in an amazing way. Each step of the way, I could see God’s hand at work.

In February of that year, we opened with seven guys. We began building a team of volunteers who enjoyed getting to know and working with the guys. God sent a number of gifted and compassionate people our way. Life in the new house began to take shape.

challenge

That first year was a learning experience. We found that, although they had graduated from high school, many of the guys were not prepared to study at a university level. One of the boys was ready to leave after his first semester, after failing a number of his classes. So we hired tutors to work with the guys in the areas where they were struggling.

As well, we quickly filled all the beds in the house, and as a result had to say no to a number of young guys, due to a lack of space and finances. Tuition costs, food and other expenses have all continued to rise over the past three years. Housing and feeding ten growing guys, along with an increasing number of other young men who’ve needed help, has been a challenge. Many of the guys, both within the house and those outside who we help, are still dealing with issues and pain from their pasts. The path to freedom can be a difficult and challenging one.

vision

Through these challenges, our vision continues. This home exists, not only to help provided each of the guys with higher education (and so hopefully break that cycle of poverty that has claimed almost everyone they know), but also to be a place where they are discipled and taught what it means to become effective followers of Jesus Christ.

Change doesn’t happen overnight. But it is our desire that these young men learn their relationship with God is a journey that will continue their entire lives; that their pasts do not have to affect their futures and that God does have a future and a purpose for them. As Paul writes in Philippians, Christ has begun a work in them that will continue until the day He returns.

With vision comes new dreams and new challenges. This house has been a blessing for us, but after three short years, we’ve outgrown it. It’s time to think bigger, to begin to develop a new dream. Even as I write that, it makes me smile. This all seemed HUGE to me when I started. Not only do we need a larger home, we need one that we can call our own. Essentially we’ve been renting here, and each year we have no idea if we’ll be able to continue to stay. There are hints in the air that this may be the last year the house is available. As well, for my personal well-being and health in ministry, I need a place of my own. Living here with the guys has been great, but as you can imagine, it can be taxing at times.

Our new dream? We’re initiating a building project. We would like to purchase a lot and build a house large enough for fifteen guys, with an attached apartment or house for me. Through some preliminary investigation, we’ve determined that this project will cost us in the neighbourhood of $150,000 to $200,000 USD. That seems like a lot of money (and it is), but at the same time, when I stepped out in faith three years ago, I had less that $1500 in my account. God provided the other $30,000 we needed. I have no doubt that He will continue to provide for us in this next step.

If you would like to partner with us, through a special gift or through monthly giving, to help with our building project or our monthly expenses, please contact me at ken.switzer@iteams.org . I would be pleased to provide you with more information on how you can be a part of this project.

Over lunch today, I asked one of the guys where he might be, if God hadn’t started this ministry. He was quiet for a moment and then he said that it wouldn’t be anywhere good. Then we talked about how powerful it could be, both to other street kids as well as to the people of Bolivia (who tend to treat street kids as a nuisance), if there was a growing group of young men who had once lived on the streets, but who were now strong and successful. How God could use their voices to bring hope and change attitudes. Imagine the impact that could have.

I want to thank you for taking the time to consider this project. If you have any questions, as always, feel free to contact me at the above e-mail address. Thanks again!



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