A Sunday in October
I can’t say this is an example of a typical Sunday. You never know what a Bolivian day will bring. But, here’s a little day-in-the-life:
Sunday began on the porch. The porch is one of my favorite places: up on the second story with a view of tree tops, overlooking the garden. Toucans, parrots and various other birds rest in these branches. It is place of peace, perfect for morning prayer.
“Aquí, aquí. Siéntese a mi lado.” As I entered the chapel, I was greeted with a little five-year-old asking me to sit next to her. The chapel is on the home grounds, so Sunday attendance is primarily children. Singing with them is a pleasure, and we often sing six or seven songs before breaking into Sunday school classes. I taught the adult class this week: prayer. The topic was inspired by a conversation the previous Thursday:
“Tía, do you like to pray?”
“Yes. I love to pray. You?”
“No. I don´t really know how.”
I aimed the lesson at teaching this teen, about to graduate high school and choose her life path, the joy of talking with God.
Post service, Naomi and I shared our weekly meal. This week, we brainstormed all the special activities we want to do with the kids and put them on a yearly calendar (decorate Christmas cookies, have a pancake breakfast etc.)But, we joked about the futility of this calendar: Bolivian timelines and dates change with the wind.
After tidying up, we spent a few hours with the transition girls (the ones studying in university): painting our nails and chatting. It was a simple, but deep, pleasure to hear about their lives and know them more.
Leaving their room, I saw two of the little girlies playing outside. I walked over to chat with them for a minute or two before heading up to my room again. They wanted to play together, and how could I refuse? A few minutes later, they confessed they were supposed to be folding their laundry.
We entered the wash room, greeted by a mountain of laundry. And, overwhelmed by the task and trying to avoid it, the two promptly began to fight. “Hey now. Don’t hit. The person who folds the most clothes wins.” (I’m learning to keep my instructions short. And, competition nearly always incentivizes. I was praying it would in the that moment.) Magic. The two worked diligently, pausing only to count and compare our piles of clothes.
Immensely proud of them, I deeply wanted to reward and reinforce their obedience when I remembered I had made chocolate pudding earlier in the afternoon. It had been an afterthought from lunch but served this occasion perfectly.
I invited the chicas up to our porch, telling them I had a surprise. They jumped excitedly and followed me up the stairs. I told the two little ones that Jesus ALWAYS sees and rewards our obedience. And, sometimes we get an earthly reward too.
We watched the sunset and shared pudding while they told me of their mom who used to make them pudding and bread. We searched the trees for monkeys and saw many parrots flying by.
When we finished, they asked for more. Again, I told them of our heavenly reward that will never run out, unlike our pudding that we finish in a few minutes. I was able to bring them water though. “It’s cold!” one of the girls exclaimed in delight. (I had added a few ice cubes.) Immediately flashed into my mind: Whoever gives one of these little ones a glass of cold water . . . will not lose his reward (Matt 10:42). I felt such overflowing joy knowing God was present in our little pudding party.
It is funny to me that a half-an-hour shared and something as silly as pudding can feel so special and love-filled. But, God uses the weak things of this world, and I suppose this evening was no different.
As much as none of us wanted our reunion to end, we had to prepare for night service.
There, the five-year-old girl fell asleep in my arms, her little body resting against mine. I prayed she felt the love and safety of God through me and know that as His child, she lacks nothing, even though outwardly she lacks so much.
Right before falling asleep that night, I journaled: God really does give us the desires of our hearts when we delight in Him. It is hard for me to imagine a better life than the one I get to live.
