tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83539761538926511352024-03-13T18:49:05.150-07:00Livin' la Rita LocaA gringa in ParaguayRita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-37560529563616163192014-03-15T13:01:00.003-07:002014-03-15T13:01:50.893-07:00Jungle YearningsSitting in a dugout,<br />
Gliding down a river,<br />
Looking upwards to the blue sky,<br />
White, wispy clouds breezing by,<br />
Tall jungle trees,<br />
Pointing high!<br />
<br />
Close my eyes,<br />
Feel the tropical sun upon my skin,<br />
Humidity in the air, cool water against my hand,<br />
Dangling fingers swim in the green, brown river,<br />
A soft mist sprays upon my brow,<br />
Cooling water!<br />
<br />
The jungle permeates,<br />
Earthy, damp and musty,<br />
A thousand years old!<br />
The smell of a storm coming this way,<br />
Sweet, sour, a bit of decay,<br />
Jungle smells!<br />
<br />
Listen! Listen!<br />
What do you hear?<br />
The cry of a majestic macaw,<br />
The wind moves the leaves of the palms,<br />
The water gurgles as it ripples,<br />
Quiet sounds!<br />
<br />
The sights of home,<br />
The feel of home,<br />
Familiar smells,<br />
The sounds that call me home,<br />
I hear the beckoning and I long to return,<br />
Winding river, take me home!Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-37534493433437635482013-09-16T10:30:00.002-07:002013-09-16T10:30:14.959-07:00The Things I See...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-50185096681068191382013-09-15T05:30:00.001-07:002013-09-15T05:31:40.847-07:00My Climb, my Fall, my Rescue<div class="post-header">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JVqgkmgKe9Edyqgp7tjcdvSeg9H06wOlFeT96sPm_TkSKRAU_AMgJbhvYAPEr6Yrj6OllW47wyi49RqSjhW120q_iFAmTMsF52VvrY8pGzga10MFAY-avCbmBbUa9kYS2z6SCuNlSrcH/s1600-h/n602165159_3860847_6335.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287198918753058530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JVqgkmgKe9Edyqgp7tjcdvSeg9H06wOlFeT96sPm_TkSKRAU_AMgJbhvYAPEr6Yrj6OllW47wyi49RqSjhW120q_iFAmTMsF52VvrY8pGzga10MFAY-avCbmBbUa9kYS2z6SCuNlSrcH/s400/n602165159_3860847_6335.jpg" style="display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /> A re post ~</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Flying over Mt. Duida, </span></span> <span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amazonas, Venezuela</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
I
must reach my God! I must see His face, hear His voice. He dwells upon
the mount. The mount that looms above me. I am here below, in a deep,
dark chasm, a pit. Yet, I know the way to Him lies above and I must go.<br />
<br />
The
path leading up is steep and dark. Treacherous, but I must risk it, for
He has placed with in my soul a need to see Him, face to face. And so, I
reach upwards, searching for a hand hold. First one hand, then the
other, and with stumbling feet, I try to find a path to God.<br />
<br />
I
gain a bit, a foothold here, then stretching forth my hand, I slip!
Slip backward and lose my ground! Striving, grasping, but I seem to not
advance at all, and yet, with the weakening of my flesh, my soul does
strive still!<br />
<br />
My very heart cries out to climb to God,
but I do not seem to progress. I know He resides above and that is where
I must go. There is no other place of peace. I must go! Upward, upward!
Go!<br />
<br />
At that moment, I feel the strength of my arm
falter, at that very moment, I lose my grip...and fall. Down, down...I
fall to the lowest place. It is as if I had not attempted the climb at
all. I am filled with despair knowing I had given it my all. I can not
climb to my God. There is no hope for me. I am to die and forever be
here in the depths of darkness.<br />
<br />
And as I lay there,
waiting for death, broken and afraid, I hear a sound upon the path. The
sound of footsteps coming down the very way I had trod. The path that
led to my fall. To where I now lay dismayed. Hearing the footsteps, I
feel a glimmer of hope rekindled in my soul. Upon opening my eyes, I see
my God, coming down for me! He reaches out His nail scared hand for me,
He lifts me up, in His strong embrace, and all my fears dissolve.<br />
<br />
Lovingly,
He carries me to the mountain top. He places me upon my feet to stand
in that blessed spot. And what a view I now behold as I stand atop the
Mount of God!<br />
<br />
I feel as if sunlight is in my soul, even
as I hear the thunder of a storm below. I am calm on this height where I
stand beside my God, for no storm or cloud can reach me. I am under
clear, blue skies that reach for all eternity. I am strong in this
place! No one can harm me. I am secure, at peace with all.<br />
<br />
This is life! This is joy! My God has found me! He lifted me up to see His face! To hear His voice!<br />
And now, His love I know!<br />
<br />
<span class="sup" id="en-KJV-30623"><br />
<span style="color: #000066;">I John 4:19</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">We love him, because he first loved us</span>.<br />
<br />
<b style="color: #000066;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=52&chapter=5&verse=8&version=9&context=verse">Romans 5:8</a></b><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, </span><b style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">while</b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"> we </span><b style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">were</b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"> </span><b style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">yet</b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"> </span><b style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">sinners</b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">, Christ died for us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #000066;">Isaiah 26:4</span> <span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">Trust ye in the LORD for ever: for in the LORD JEHOVAH is everlasting strength.<br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"><span class="userContent">These are thoughts I write down in my
devotional journal. At times I must fight depression with chronic pain
and find writing to be helpful in organizing my thoughts and reminding
me of truths. I rarely share them with anyone, but decided to do so
here. The mountain pictured is what was in my mind's eye.</span></span></div>
Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-2042491600439284942013-09-14T10:12:00.001-07:002013-09-14T10:12:32.301-07:00baby monkey riding on a pig!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/qz__XEDVXTM" width="480"></iframe> So<br />
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So... when I watch this, it makes makes me hungry! Both of these make for some good eatin'!Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-24287430680037533952013-09-12T14:09:00.003-07:002013-09-12T14:09:26.630-07:00IFWe profess to be strangers and pilgrims, seeking after a country of our
own, yet we settle down in the most un-stranger-like fashion, exactly as
if we were quite at home and meant to stay as long as we could. I don't
wonder apostolic miracles have died. Apostolic living certainly has." <br />
— <a class="authorNameRegular" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/158879.Amy_Carmichael" title="view all quotes by Amy Carmichael">Amy Carmichael</a><br />
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<br />
In the book <span style="font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">'If'</span> by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_Carmichael">Amy Carmichael</a> it says:<br />
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<span style="font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">If</span> I ask to be delivered from trial rather<br />
than for deliverance out of it,<br />
to the praise of His glory;<br />
<span style="font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">If</span> I forget that the way of the cross<br />
leads to the cross<br />
and not to a bank of flowers;<br />
<span style="font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">If</span> I regulate my life on these lines,<br />
or even unconsciously my<br />
thinking,<br />
so that I am surprised when the<br />
way is rough and think it<br />
strange, though the word is,<br />
"Think it not strange,"<br />
"Count it all joy."<br />
<span style="font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">then</span> I know nothing of Calvary love.Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-89698254606949365532013-08-30T10:03:00.001-07:002013-08-30T10:03:12.745-07:00Its her birthday~ share a word of wisdom!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="userContent">Happy Birthday to my baby girl!</span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent"> She
is 19 years old today.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="userContent"> What advice would you share with a 19 year old
young lady?</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">Leave me a comment so that I may share it with her.</span></span></span></b><span class="userContentSecondary fcg"></span></div>
Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-71947037195368961412013-08-26T12:16:00.003-07:002013-08-26T12:16:29.586-07:00Something gets lost in the translation...My husband was supposed to translate this poem, on the fly, during a bi-lingual
wedding a few years ago. he first attempted to use the help of a Windows translation tool. ( I especially loved
the translation of the author's name) <br /><br /><b>The Spanish Version</b><br /><br />
¿QUÉ ES CASARSE?<br /> Salvador Rueda<br /><br />Formar una pasión de dos pasiones,<br />Fundir en un derecho dos derechos,<br />Fraguar un noble lecho de dos lechos,<br />Y atar a una ambición dos ambiciones.<br />Juntar en un soñar dos ilusiones<br />Forjar un techo santo de dos techos,<br />Hacer un pecho puro de dos pechos,<br />Aunar un solo amor de dos amores.<br />Anudar en un lazo dos divisas,<br />Formar un solo trino de dos risas,<br />Con dos miradas fundir una mirada,<br />Con dos llantos enlazar un solo llanto.<br />Con dos canciones hacer un solo canto,<br />¡Esto es casarse! Lo demás no es nada.<br /><br /><b> The Computerized Version</b><br />
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WHAT IS TO MARRY? <br />Rescuing Wheel <br /><br />To form a passion of two passions, <br />To fuse in a right two rights, <br />To forge a noble bed of two beds, <br />and to tie to an ambition two ambitions. <br />To join in dreaming two illusions <br />To forge a ceiling santo of two ceilings, <br />To make a chest pure of two chests, <br />To combine a single love of two loves. <br />To tie in a bow two currencies, <br />To form a single trino of two laughter,<br />With two watched to fuse a glance, <br />two weeping to connect a single weeping. <br />With two songs to make a single song, <br />This is to marry! <br />The others are not nothing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><b>Here
is the new version we translated together.</b> I think we did a little
better than Windows.<br /><br />
What Makes a Marriage?<br /> Salvador Rueda<br /><br />To take the emotions of two and make them one passion<br />To weld the rights of two individuals into the union of a couple,<br />To make a Honeymoon suite from two lonely rooms<br />To bind the ambitions of two people into one goal<br />To join in one dream the hopes of two people<br />To form a loving home out of two separate dwellings<br />To take two hearts and make them one<br />To combine two loves into one adoration<br />To tie a lovely bow from two separate ribbons<br />To blend the laughter of two into one melody<br />To take two perspectives and form one panorama<br />To transform the heartaches of loneliness into a cry of joy <br />To blend two separate melodies into a harmonious duet<br />That’s what makes a marriage. Nothing else really matters.Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-86313270541928493372013-08-23T09:13:00.003-07:002013-08-23T09:13:47.383-07:00Meet the Family!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am so proud of my family! They are just awesome people! Let me introduce them to you!<br />
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You may see them as Captain America and Wonder Woman, but this is really my son in law and oldest daughter! They are real life Super Heroes!<br />
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Meet my son and his wife, Mr. And Mrs. Angry Birds! If you want to have a fun time, hang out with them!<br /><br />
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This is my only red headed child, isn't she beautiful??? She is capable of just about anything!<br />
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And I can't forget the baby of the family! She is always clowning around!<br />
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I really do not know why they feel the need to disguise themselves with parent's like us!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Now they even have the grand daughters masking their identity! </span></b></div>
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<br />Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-53436179671727747742013-08-15T08:40:00.000-07:002013-08-15T08:40:23.867-07:00 Five years later<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I have now lived in Paraguay for 5 years.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> As I watch the Presidential Inauguration ceremonies today, I am reminded of this post I wrote 5 years ago after the last presidential inauguration. I have outlasted that president as he was removed from office last year. It feels a little strange to see a transition of government after having lived in Venezuela for so many years, under the government of one man, for the majority of that time.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
I have been trying to comprehend my feelings of love. Emotions of
love I have for more than one country. Perhaps you think that I can not
love many places equally, or that in loving one, I love the other less.
But that is not the case for me.<br />
<br />
As a mother, I love each of my four children equally. But differently. Each occupies a place in my heart that no other can fill.<br />
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<br />
My
first born daughter, Jackie, was born a very independent child. She was
mature and handled everything easily. She was quickly to become my
friend. My best friend. My love for her is shown in that way.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Along
came son, Joshua. He was a serious minded child. Content to play alone,
but in need of my presence for security. As he has gotten older, it
seems our roles have changed. He now cares for me and brings me
security. He does his own thing still, but likes to have loved ones
nearby for comfort. I show him my love by being available.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Jewel!
She quickly revealed a strength of character we had not yet seen in any
child. Strong willed, independent, and very loyal. The life of any
party! My role with her was often to be a boundary setter as she knew no
limits and thought she could do anything. She usually could, but at
times to the detriment of others or endangerment of herself. She is now a
young lady and still is a strong minded individual but has
learned to be considerate of others. I show my love by supporting her in
her endeavors.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Then the baby, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jayde</span></span></span>.
She is the social butterfly. She thrives on attention. She does not
like to be left to her own devices and prefers to be part of a group. To
show her love, is to look her in the eye and communicate. A lot!!!<br />
<br />
I love them all greatly, but differently, just as I love my different countries equally and yet completely.<br />
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<br />
My
home land, the USA, is the land of my birth. The land of my heritage.
It is where I feel safe and secure. A refuge. The land of my mother
tongue, of my sheltered childhood. I could not love another place more!<br />
<br />
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<br />
Venezuela
is my adopted country. A place I chose to love and a people who
returned my love, mostly. Just as a young bride leaves the home of her
parents to begin a new life with her husband, I chose to begin a new
life in Venezuela. I gave Venezuela my unconditional love. Yes, I know
her faults and difficulties, but I love her still. I could not love
another place more!<br />
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<br />
<br />
Then the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ye'kwana</span></span></span>
tribe. I love them with a passion! My time with them was the
culmination of a life long dream. Our lives were filled with excitement
and adventure. Emotionally draining at times, but very fulfilling! I
could not love another people more!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkMbKiPfVeHSxgCLSV8cLmEn6bkO9jp1JedpT1B09A1Mp6E3PO-Rseqv-Uo4lHBcnJMMqyXeeA8jZQ8epR_0W5i9E_AKbgf_NjjVmXXzYnPdEsZzEVYaCPukImi3a2wRSgc219stbQ9e9/s1600/63918_10152071664203356_1379789749_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkMbKiPfVeHSxgCLSV8cLmEn6bkO9jp1JedpT1B09A1Mp6E3PO-Rseqv-Uo4lHBcnJMMqyXeeA8jZQ8epR_0W5i9E_AKbgf_NjjVmXXzYnPdEsZzEVYaCPukImi3a2wRSgc219stbQ9e9/s320/63918_10152071664203356_1379789749_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Now, I am opening
my heart to Paraguay. Just as a young person first in love, tentatively,
shyly even, I am reaching out to see if that love is returned or
spurned. It is exciting and yet terrifying! It could break my heart! Or ,
bring great joy!<br />
<br />
Yes, I have a great love for more
than one place, more than one people. One will never replace the other
and all will be part of what makes me feel whole and gives me purpose in
this life and the one to come.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;"> <span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">1 John4:21</span> <span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">And this commandment have we from him, That he who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">loveth</span></span></span> God love his brother also.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> All grown up!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"></span></span>Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-41959123435990854472013-08-13T07:25:00.002-07:002013-08-13T07:25:53.824-07:00The Preacher's WifeI was blessed to be born into a family full of pastors, most of whom
were Baptist preachers. This has been normal for me my entire life. I
have been related to Baptist preachers in just about every familial
relationship possible.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
When I was born, I was born to the titles of;</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's great grand daughter</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's grand daughter</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's niece.</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's cousin. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Upon my father's ordination, I also became,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's daughter.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Later when I married, I gained the titles,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's wife</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's sister-in-law.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">When my daughter married , I became,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's mother-in-law.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">My son is not ordained yet, but he is already preaching, so I am also now,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's mother.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">I have several nephews also in school who are preparing for the ministry and so I have become,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Preacher's aunt.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">However, since we are independent Baptist, the one title I will never have is,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">THE PREACHER!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #000099; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Which probably explains why I have this blog...</span>Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-83257630426328242542013-08-07T13:28:00.002-07:002013-08-07T13:28:49.788-07:00The Flavor of WordsWhen one becomes bilingual or multi-lingual, a strange thing happens.
Words begin to have flavor. Certain words just taste better when said
in certain languages. That is the only way to describe it...flavor.<br />
<br />
For instance, English is a great language for technical words and for teaching concrete matters.<br />
<br />
Spanish, is very emotive, full of strong feelings.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ye'kwana</span> is for description. The words often sound like what they mean.<br />
<br />
Because
of this, our home is full of a mixture of all three languages. A sort
of smorgasbord of vocabulary, if you will. Pick and chose whichever your
taste buds are desiring.<br />
<br />
Some of my favorite words in
one language just don't have a good translation into the other. Yes, you
can translate its meaning, but not its flavor!<br />
<br />
For instance, in Spanish, '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Animado</span>'. Sure, it means excited or motivated but, doesn't '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">animado</span>' taste <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sooooo</span> much better????? ' <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Animado</span>' has texture and sweetness...like cotton candy.<br />
<br />
Or the Venezuelan , '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Na'guara</span>', I mean...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Na'guara</span>
just oozes excitement and wonder! So much more flavorful than ,"WOW!"
It tastes like caramel candy that sticks around on your teeth for awhile
and you pick at it all day.<br />
<br />
And then in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Yekwana</span>, one of my favorite words is....<br />
<br />
get ready....<br />
<br />
"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Töwödäjööque</span>!"<br />
<br />
That words just rumbles around in your mouth and explodes out!<br />
<br />
"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Töwödäjööque</span>!"<br />
<br />
It's a great insult because it is so funny sounding, no one could take it too seriously.<br />
"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Töwödäjööque</span>!" means 'ugly'. But when you say it, it tastes like a mouth full of red hots!!!!<br />
<br />
And
the word, "Soto". It means 'people', but not just any people. It means
'us', the tribe. And it is such a proud sounding word, "Soto"! Like
biting into a piece of dark chocolate! Sharp, bitter, and needs nothing
added!<br />
<br />
English has some great words as well. One that
just makes me giggle is, "Somebody"! Imagine how that sounds to a non
-English speaking person! "Somebody" tastes like sparkling cider, it's a
funny sort of fizzy words!<br />
<br />
The word "logic" sounds so...'logical'! Boring. But necessary for life...like plain bread.<br />
<br />
And lately, a tasty word in my mouth has been..."Politics", that sounds like a string of fire works!<br />
It has a spicy taste, like curry, fine in moderation, but don't go overboard with it!<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
And speaking of flavors, in the words of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Emiril</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Lagasse</span> ...<br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: 14;"><br /><b>You Are Cayenne Pepper</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black;"><br />You are very over the top and a bit overwhelming.<br /><br />You have a fiery personality, and you can give anyone a good jolt.<br /><br />You can easily take things up a couple notches, no matter what crowd you're running with.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatspiceareyouquiz/">What Spice Are You?</a></div>
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<span style="color: #006600; font-size: 130%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">I am wondering if any other bilinguals feel this way about words, and if so, how about a word 'tasting'?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br />Share some words from your language with us so we can all have a taste! (NO PROFANITY!)</span></span>Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-13419903024660708282013-08-04T06:23:00.001-07:002013-08-04T06:23:42.666-07:00EEETZ a Voy!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErrO-QntDp3Y84VnhXhumwxOhn4grcKKQUTLttVUs5H3xjoLcZGT2kT3AvabAl1G1b4Jpfa6wB2BX6Ovecr-KZTGnyPKzIV1X1DgbLV8d4P0vy0lZKi8RKo0kV5CpPchv0N07CN9-n8g/s1600-h/SCAN0537.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366095107523604530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErrO-QntDp3Y84VnhXhumwxOhn4grcKKQUTLttVUs5H3xjoLcZGT2kT3AvabAl1G1b4Jpfa6wB2BX6Ovecr-KZTGnyPKzIV1X1DgbLV8d4P0vy0lZKi8RKo0kV5CpPchv0N07CN9-n8g/s400/SCAN0537.JPG" style="display: block; height: 313px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">That's what the Venezuelan doctor said to me as he delivered my son.</span></span></a><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Happy Birthday, Josh!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">A few memories from that day:<br /><br />My
husband made the mistake of telling me, "I know what you are feeling."
in the middle of a drug free, natural labor. He never did that again!!!!<br /><br />My
son looked like Yoda when he was born. I cried for the child. Round,
wrinkly head with scattered tufts of white fuzz spread around his
baldness. Big pointy ears that stood out from his huge head. Poor baby.
Thankfully, his looks improved within a few days.<br /><br />In the delivery
room, the nurse asked me for his diapers and clothes! I tried to
explain that in my country the hospital provided all of these. They
finally wrapped the child up in a doctor's gown and begged a diaper off
of another mother. I was so embarrassed for my deprived child! Not only
was he ... less than beautiful, he had a moron for a mother!<br /><br />I
was so hungry and the cafeteria was closed. My husband went out in the
early morning and bought two arepas. The first I ever ate. After I
wolfed them down, I realized he had intended to eat one himself.<br /><br />When
the cafeteria finally did open, they brought me a breakfast tray. I
lifted the cover from the dish and to my surprise, everything was
white! White arepa, a pile of white, dry, grated cheese, white milk, and
white atol. Atol was, in my opinion at the time, glue. White pasty
glue. I convinced the doctor to allow me to leave and go home to eat
colorful food. I left for home less than 12 hours after delivery.<br /><br />My son was the calmest, most content baby I ever had. He has always been a blessing and makes me proud!</span>Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-48906873661814832852013-08-03T14:59:00.002-07:002013-08-03T14:59:38.746-07:00Making Known His GloryFrom:<br /><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Apostolic passion", Floyd </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;">McCling</span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Perspectives on the world Christian movement",</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">1999, William Carey </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;">Library</span><br /><br /><br />"Apostolic
Passion." Therefore is a deliberate, intentional choice to live for the
worship of Jesus in the nations. It has to do with being committed to
the point of death to spreading His glory. It's the quality of those who
are on fire for Jesus,who dream of the whole earth being covered with
the Glory of the Lord. I know when apostolic passion has died in my
heart. It happens when I don't spend my quiet time dreaming of the time
when Jesus will be worshiped in languages that are not yet heard in
heaven. I know it's missing from my life when I sing about heaven, but
live as if earth is my home. Apostolic passion is dead in my heart when I
dream more about sports, toys, places to go, and people to see, than I
do about the nations worshiping Jesus. I have lost it, when I make
decisions based on the danger involved, not the glory God will get.
Those who have apostolic passion are those that are planning to go, but
willing to stay."<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br /><span style="color: #cc0000;">THOUGHTS:</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">AM I,</span><span style="color: #006600; font-size: 130%;"><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">-Living a life of worship?</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-Committed to the point of death?</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-Spending quiet time with God's Word?</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-Living with an eternal mind frame, or am I living for the here and now?</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-Working for materialistic things ?</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-Basing my life decisions on how to bring Glory to God, or on how to stay safe and comfortable?</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-Planning to go tell others and willing to stay if needed? Or am I planning to stay.<br /><br /><span style="color: black;">Malachi 1:11</span></span></span></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">For
from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same my name
shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense shall be
offered unto my name, and a pure offering: for my name shall be great
among the heathen, saith the LORD of hosts.</span>Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-52203869784361555362013-08-01T10:51:00.002-07:002013-08-01T10:51:31.547-07:00 A year of weight loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtrzuEAbhlm5y280g5vKVARNlm10WtVH-dHk7ycdGky2JCIDlqpmUlxuUME3X8Z1hu7JJkF2nB442-YszSK4Kms_gbllUGvI0qnGwzqxk-Sb-KdHmbVeqCNe_eV522M94ijHnh9hsWhG1/s1600/298622_10150417258163524_521398523_10164378_731802830_n(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">This is me at my heaviest!</a></div>
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( it was time to do something about it)</div>
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This is me today, 50 pounds lighter.</div>
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Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-17158204136539537182013-07-31T09:11:00.003-07:002013-07-31T09:11:42.028-07:00 I am BLOG!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!</b></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaP3hyphenhyphenJOTR8ilrj6g7uKycyyEA-2QhkiJTE5PArwryZLHLE1_-qmeSjZhu9WXwlPUk9IecqZZPT9SiPq6oy3VtFVKRddICSAZF1r6Kj3izjOXzDHIzBAvJUNVaHrh92N9ApsB8k24gHQhyphenhyphen/s1600-h/250px-Borg_cube_from_bridge.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194511964250253778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaP3hyphenhyphenJOTR8ilrj6g7uKycyyEA-2QhkiJTE5PArwryZLHLE1_-qmeSjZhu9WXwlPUk9IecqZZPT9SiPq6oy3VtFVKRddICSAZF1r6Kj3izjOXzDHIzBAvJUNVaHrh92N9ApsB8k24gHQhyphenhyphen/s400/250px-Borg_cube_from_bridge.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-size: 180%;"> </span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 180%;">La RITA LOCA has been assimilated!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 180%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUT2msGQEvD_UoVFdy6qCHSnMzsjuiltxZ8dPL_9o4lglNyEa5badAs56XcMuJaOD8nRBl3SGnRCufOAo-MjO3LmlwfsQgtzg9zSyuT3JilZ_7ftzKPGtEgdJzi-euyezX12wuePqpQ4U/s1600-h/200px-BorgQueen2373.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193277968606505170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUT2msGQEvD_UoVFdy6qCHSnMzsjuiltxZ8dPL_9o4lglNyEa5badAs56XcMuJaOD8nRBl3SGnRCufOAo-MjO3LmlwfsQgtzg9zSyuT3JilZ_7ftzKPGtEgdJzi-euyezX12wuePqpQ4U/s400/200px-BorgQueen2373.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-size: 180%; font-style: italic;">And now, I look like this!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Do you have a blog? Leave us a link?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> We will come and 'assimilate' ..uh...visit you!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #006600; font-style: italic;">(and if you do not understand this post...you are obviously NOT a Trekkie!)</span></div>
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Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-69162263587340757742013-07-30T14:25:00.002-07:002013-07-30T14:25:27.056-07:00Linguistics and Language LearningI thought you may be interested in seeing how the Ye'kwana language looks in written form.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Awa´deene yaaajäntädaawä Wanaadi cönaamode´nai caju, nono mmaja,</span><br />
<br />
<br />
The
time and effort put forth to achieve a phonetic break down of the
language so that you may be able to transcribe what you are hearing
into a phonetic alphabet is staggering. This will allow the translator
to be able to reproduce the sounds he is hearing, which will be the
first step in the language learning process. This requires listening for
phonetic sounds and intonation patterns.<br />
<br />
We use two methods to achieve this. TRACKING and MIMICRY.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Tracking</span>
is listening to a tribal speaker either on tape or in person, and
quietly with your lips, or silently in your mind, repeat exactly what he
is saying. Instantaneously mimic everything being said so that you are
never more than 4 or 5 syllables behind the speaker. This is difficult
at first but will become a real help to hearing and understanding the
language in rapid speech. Tracking should become a habit. ( Non- tribal
language learners could use this method with radio or television to good
effect.)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mimicry</span>
is working with yourself. It is copying the rhythm and pitch you hear
in the spoken language. It is mimicking the people. Not just sounds but
intonations also. One must take advantage of every opportunity to say
things as they do, using their rhythm, pitch and expression. You can not
possibly write down everything you hear and maintain the speed and
rhythm of the spoken language, but you can mimic a lot as you hear it!
Don't get the people to slow down for you, mimic them at their natural
rate.<br />
<br />
Mimicry is practicing with yourself while alone
and when with the people. Lots of talking will cement the material you
are learning. Your goal is to be as natural as possible and to sound as
much like them as possible.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #000099; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Memorization without adequate mimicry is a good way to ensure a foreign accent!</span><br />
<br />
Anyone care to venture a guess at what the following means?<br />
<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Awa</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">´</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">deene</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">yaaajäntädaawä</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Wanaadi</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">cönaamode</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">´</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nai</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">caju</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">, </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nono</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">mmaja</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">,</span><br />
<br />
(based on New tribes Language and Culture learning manual)Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-28690339267368720742013-07-09T06:20:00.001-07:002013-07-09T06:20:05.478-07:00Today we celebrate 30 years of marriage!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #006600; font-weight: bold;">MY LIFE AS A FAIRY TALE </span><br />
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<span style="color: #006600; font-weight: bold;">The People of the Enchanted Forest</span></div>
<br />
Once
upon a time there was a land of great wealth and prosperity in the
north, and in that land two people were born who were destined to be
together. One was a young knight, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Marinus</span> who was in the service of his King and country, and the other was a young Lady,<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"> Roseus</span> who was waiting for her knight.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Marinus</span>
was sent to serve his land in a band of mighty warriors who were the
first to fight and were under direct orders of their King. He was of
the few and the proud who were the first line of defense of that great
land. They were known to be always faithful to that duty. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Semper</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Fidelis</span> was their standard.<br />
<br />
As
these things usually come about, the two met and were joined in holy
matrimony having a great, pure love for one another. Their love would
pass the test of time and they would live happily with their four
children.<br />
<br />
When his days of service to the King were over, young <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Marinus</span>
was released from his duty and the young Knight felt called upon to
serve his God in a far away place where His name was not known.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Marinus</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Roseus</span>
and their children began a journey to the south, the land of a great
forest. Some even believed the great forest to be enchanted. In that
land of forest and rivers there dwelt a people who had not heard of the
ways of God . <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Marinus</span> was determined to find them and show them the glory of God that they might know it for themselves.<br />
<br />
And
so they set out upon a long and adventurous journey, their highway
was the river and their steed was a dug out canoe. After many days of
travel through the enchanted forest, they arrived at a small village and
were invited to rest and share the food with the people of the
enchanted forest.<br />
<br />
The people asked them to stay and share with them the great mysteries of the unknown God. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Marinus</span> began to learn their ways and their words. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Roseus</span> worked to understand and befriend the women and children of the enchanted forest.<br />
<br />
And
they were busy. They taught the people of the forest how to mark
their words upon white leaves so that their words would never be lost.
They taught them to decipher the marked leaves and read the words of
others. And they taught them of the ways of God.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Roseus</span>
shared their knowledge of medicine and healing with the people of the
forest, caring for the sick and elderly. Many children were born to
the village and their strength was improved. The village became the
mightiest in that region.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Roseus</span>
helped the elders to gather the children together daily to teach them
at a young age how to make the markings upon the white leaves, how to
do the ciphers, how to care for their health.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Marinus</span>
taught them of God. He showed them the word's of God written upon the
white leaves and they could now understand God's words for
themselves. Many an evening the elders would sit around the fires and
read aloud the words of God to others. Soon so many were eager to hear
these words, the people decided to build a large meeting house just
for that purpose. It was a place of Hope.<br />
<br />
All seemed well in the enchanted forest. The people were happy, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Roseus</span> were happy, but outside of the Enchanted Forest a fear was growing among the people of the cities. A new leader had arisen.<br />
<br />
This leader was known as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Thugo</span> the Tyrant and he spread his hate and venomous teachings through out that Land of Grace. The numbers of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Thugo's</span>
followers grew and violently took the land. It was as if a wave of
red hatred grew in the hearts of many and spread to the hearts of all
those with whom they spoke.The wave of red flowed forth to encompass
more and more of the land, but the enchanted forest was far away and
still untouched by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Thugo</span> or his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">red thugs</span>.<br />
<br />
Slowly,
the rumors arrived that the wave of red was ever growing nearer to
the enchanted forest. Alas, some of the enchanted people were washed
away with the wave of red anger and hatred. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Thugo's</span> grip was growing ever nearer, but things were still calm in the village were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Roseus</span> lived happily among the people of the forest.<br />
<br />
Until one fateful day, a decree went forth through out the whole of the land. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Thugo</span>
the Tyrant spoke and declared that all those who lived in the
enchanted forest as emissaries of God must leave and leave at once. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Thugo's</span> red thugs arrived to put fear into their hearts. The red thugs <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">began</span> to do evil in the enchanted forest and cause harm to the people ever threatening <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Marinus</span> and his family.<br />
<br />
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Roseus</span>
attempted to seek justice from the peoples of the city. They went
into the Palaces of Justice, showing their works were not evil but
good. It was to no avail. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Thugo</span> the Tyrant would not listen, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Thugo's</span> red thugs had lost the ability to see and think on their own and were now <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">completely</span> entranced by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Thugo</span> and his evil spell. They would not listen and so, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Roseus</span> left the enchanted forest with sadness.<br />
<br />
They left their friends, the people of the forest, and all were heart broken. Many cried on that day. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Marinus</span> beseeched them to never forget the ways of God, to continue to follow in His path and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Roseus</span> hugged and cried with the women and children of the forest. But they must leave, and leave they did.<br />
<br />
As time went by, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Roseus</span>
moved to a new land and were happy once again. But a part of their
heart remained behind in the enchanted forest, a longing and a calling
they could feel most everyday, to be with the people of the forest.
They learned to trust God with their care.<br />
<br />
At times they would receive messages from the enchanted people. Their words marked on white leaves so that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Roseus</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">might know</span>
of their friends and how it went in the enchanted forest. The words
were good. The people still followed the ways of God and declared His
glory through out the forest, spreading it from village to village. God
remained among them even after <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Roseus</span> had been forced to leave them. They had known that He would, but it was a comfort to read the markings.<br />
<br />
And so, the people of the enchanted forest were well and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Marinus</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">Roseus</span> were happy. And all lived <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">happily</span>
ever after until they would one day be reunited in a beautiful city
of lights to live together for all eternity. A place where all was
enchanted and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">the likes</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Thugo</span> the Tyrant and his Red Thugs would never be able to reach <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">them</span> again. A place of true peace and rest.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The End</span></div>
Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-71253497139977737932013-06-08T12:59:00.002-07:002013-06-08T12:59:38.113-07:00It seemed like a good idea at the time.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmqk1XxH4Qp_x89t3DJfQaxAy6dxzTfDPQ9i__8R9BDRwpWftUoeYadHXKGC2e5wfDGcnpqsRnY-Wq-YaXDTOvbhixfVmh7wFwbpujW4qke0oHo5-EOpfrBrkI0XVd4F7NHzvwR1WRAcQ/s1600-h/2462_1083788183766_1498208164_30220730_4614_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmqk1XxH4Qp_x89t3DJfQaxAy6dxzTfDPQ9i__8R9BDRwpWftUoeYadHXKGC2e5wfDGcnpqsRnY-Wq-YaXDTOvbhixfVmh7wFwbpujW4qke0oHo5-EOpfrBrkI0XVd4F7NHzvwR1WRAcQ/s320/2462_1083788183766_1498208164_30220730_4614_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> This is my friend ,Theda Dawson, in front of a Mission Aviation Fellowship plane</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> on the air strip in the village where she lived and worked at the time.<br />
</i></div>
<br />
I was reminded by another missionary,
Theda Dawson, of the time I had a root canal in her jungle home. That's
right, a root canal in a mud and stick house with a palm roof in a
Yanomamo village. You see, a dentist was visiting from Puerto Rico and
he offered to do it for free. I needed it, he offered, so...<br />
<br />
I
sat myself down in the middle of a room full of half naked indians,
chewing tobacco and spitting it on the floor as they chattered on. They
spoke Guiaca, so I had no idea what they might be saying.<br />
<br />
It
went quite well, considering. I did not have too much pain and after
the root canal we loaded up in a speed boat and headed down river to a
Ye'kwana village where we would spend the night. I did fine until night
when the Novocain wore off. I spent the night in my hammock tossing and
turning which kept everyone else up. In a jungle home built of poles
which are all tied together, when one persons swings his hammock, the
poles shake and everyone swings with them, others are not always
appreciative!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1pS_Idz11BT5rjTFmC-9N6nMdqjkjNYLYUgm4iYBGGrQVSkBMVL3Ayguiu-AUvEob-eVVlKOfiqaP_X5oxdBYEZYwSV9Ed9im8axkNlE_iNLUabVhzDuJXZFsSWdOwvYYm9792jYNpA/s1600/SCAN0276.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1pS_Idz11BT5rjTFmC-9N6nMdqjkjNYLYUgm4iYBGGrQVSkBMVL3Ayguiu-AUvEob-eVVlKOfiqaP_X5oxdBYEZYwSV9Ed9im8axkNlE_iNLUabVhzDuJXZFsSWdOwvYYm9792jYNpA/s400/SCAN0276.JPG" /></a></div>
The
next day we loaded up in a Cessna, piloted by a missionary friend, to
fly to the relative civilization of Puerto Ayacucho. As we began to
climb to gain elevation...I knew I was in BIG trouble. The higher we
climbed, the more pain I was in. Tears began to squeeze out of my eyes
and I began to bang on the door repeatedly in pain.<br />
<br />
That
was when I learned that one should not travel in an unpressurized plane
immediately after major dental work. My tooth began to grow! <span style="font-size: large;">and GROW!</span> <span style="font-size: x-large;">AND GROW!</span> It was so big it was about to explode and take my head with it!<br />
<br />
Eventually,
I was able to make the pilot hear me and he tried to fly as low as
possible. Unfortunately, the mountain ranges refused to lower themselves
and we had to climb repeatedly to cross them. I began to consider the
possibilities available for constructing a parachute and taking up sky
diving.<br />
<br />
About that time, I heard another pilot talking
on the radio. He had a young indian girl on his plane headed to the same
town. She was having complications with her labor and needed an
emergency flight to the hospital. I could hear her screaming in the back
ground. Poor thing! After hearing her, I refused to scream, but I did
cry and kept right on banging that door. It probably still has a dent in
it...<br />
<br />
As we neared town, we descended to land and
the pain also became less intense. Even so, I went straight to the
pharmacy for some pain medication and I never flew again for at least 3
days after I had any dental work, even just a cleaning!<br />
<br />
I
hate dental work under normal circumstances, and I can not recall why I
would have decided to go through a root canal in one sitting, no x-ray
machines, in a jungle hut. Maybe one of the witch doctors cursed me to
have a lapse of judgment.? Or maybe I was just a poor missionary who
really needed free dental work?<br />
<br />
Whatever the reason, it seemed like a good idea at the time.Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-27207104146273771962013-05-20T09:09:00.003-07:002013-05-20T09:10:09.827-07:00Rules of Engagement<b><i> OR... </i></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> <span style="font-size: large;">" How to Drive in Ciudad del Este, Paraguay"</span></i></b></div>
<br />
<b><i>My husband assures me that there are rules for driving in this city. After years of careful observation I have gathered together the following rules of the road as I see them...</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
Never pull into a continuous stream of traffic with your eyes open. <br />
<br />
<br />
Horse drawn vehicles should keep to the middle of the road and weave. <br />
<br />
Fast vehicles should stay in Asuncion. <br />
<br />
If
you are coming from a side road onto the main road, you have the right
of way. Do not slow down unless you roll over or hit something. Only
stop if the object hit appears to have life.<br />
<br />
Hand signals should primarily indicate the driver’s mood. <br />
<br />
Only stop at a red light if the car in front has stopped. <br />
<br />
At a crossroad when turning left, get into the right hand lane. Beware of the motorcycle!<br />
<br />
At a crossroad when turning right, get into the left-hand lane. Beware of the motorcycle!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If a horse cart hits you, you are going too slow. <br />
<br />
If a police car hits you, you are driving recklessly. <br />
<br />
If you hit a Paraguayan it's your fault. <br />
<br />
If you hit a Brazilian its his fault. <br />
<br />
If you hit an Argentine go to the nearest police station and claim your prize. <br />
<br />
Do not enter spaces narrower than the width of the car, or a taxi narrower than the width of the passenger. <br />
<br />
It
is necessary to turn on the windshield wiper a few seconds before any
stop. This will keep some of the wind shield washers from spraying your
glass with soapy water.<br />
<br />
The horn operation must be checked at least every 10 meters, usually in order to move a cow from the road. <br />
<br />
You may also be required to have brakes. <br />
<br />
Two lanes are for driving in both directions, whichever side you are on.<br />
<br />
The internal mirror is for the use of the driver only - to comb his hair, or hang his icons from. <br />
<br />
If you are a foreigner, speed limit signs are in km/h <br />
<br />
If you are a native speed limit signs are in m.p.h. <br />
<br />
If you are driving on a cobble stone street, the speed limit is as fast as your dental work will allow.<br />
<br />
All drivers must comply with the speed limit... or some multiple thereof.Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-58786689947305862242013-04-12T10:16:00.001-07:002013-04-12T10:16:54.359-07:00Critters<span style="font-weight: bold;">Insects: In ,on, and under the skin!</span><br />
It
often seemed that while living in the jungle, one was at war with the
entire animal kingdom. Fighting off "critters" would become a full time,
never ending battle. No matter what you were doing or planned to do,
the insects and other critters had to be taken into consideration. They
devoured food,destroyed clothing, swam in your water supply, infected
children...<br />
<br />
All our dry foods had to be kept in large
coolers (such as Igloos) with airtight seals. We ordered dry goods only
once every three months and if not completely airtight, it would all be
ruined in a matter of days. Not to mention the four footed furry
vermin!!! or the bats...or snakes...<br />
<br />
By far, the most
dangerous animal in the jungle is the mosquito. The mosquito carries the
dreaded malaria as well as yellow fever, and dengue. Any of these can,
and do, kill humans on a regular basis. You begin to be aware of the
mosquitoes living habits. You plan to not be out from under screens and
nets between 5 -7 a.m.and 5-7 p.m. as this is when the mosquito is out
and eating. You sleep under the mosquito net, not only to fight the
annoying buzz of the mosquito, but also other flying insects... and
bats...rats...snakes...<br />
<br />
Another most annoying bug is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nigua</span>. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nigua</span> is everywhere. Due to the dirt floors and the constant contact one has with the dirt and with others who also happen to have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">niguas</span>,
you can never truly avoid this bug. Some refer to it as a burrowing
tic, but it is rightly, a sand flea. It is almost impossible to see
with the naked eye, but it makes itself known!!!<br />
<br />
The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">nigua</span>
will burrow into any exposed skin, most commonly the toes, but also the
hands and in small children who play on the floor, I have seen them on
the babies bottoms. They must be removed. This is best done with a small
thorn from a bush the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">indians</span>
use for this very purpose. I used a needle so that it could be
disinfected. Another way to prevent them, is to step in kerosene daily.
During dry season, I would keep a shallow pan near the door for this
purpose. We also would wash our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">chancletas</span> (flip flops) in kerosene. Kerosene has no lead so was safe to use in this way.<br />
<br />
An <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">indian</span> boy was brought to us once who had both feet so infected by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">niguas</span>, he could not walk. We had to clean and remove infectious tissue for several days. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Sanema</span> of a certain village were so inundated with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">niguas</span>, that every member of the village could show you scarred and missing digits from their feet, caused by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">niguas</span>.<br />
<br />
Another
common problem was scabies. Yuck!!! So many babies with scabies. I
concocted a body shampoo, of sorts, for my family to use regularly in
order to not be infected. Part of this shampoo was a dog shampoo. Sounds
gross, I know, but ever so much better than scabies. I would say that
we saw patients with scabies at least once a week. It is difficult to
treat because it also infects clothing and bedding. And since several
people share the same hammock...<br />
<br />
With the dampness of the rain forest climate, fungal problems were also a concern. You had to stay dry! If you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">sweated</span>,
or were rained on, you had to change to dry clothing quickly or you
would end up with rashes and other issues. Closed in shoes were not a
good choice for daily use. I have seen a lot of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">newbys</span>
come into the jungle wearing leather military type boots or rubber mud
boots, HA!! You knew they would be by asking for medical attention soon.
Sandals and plastic flip flops are a much better choice as they can be
treated and dried quickly, unless you are actually walking or working in the jungle. I have seen some severe cases of athletes
foot! Many fungi respond well to being treated with white gas. We had to
constantly come up with economical, yet safe, treatments for common
problems.<br />
<br />
The constant rain caused a lot of
difficulties with clothing. Very hard to get the clothes dry. Many a
time, I have had to re-wash all the clothing as it began to mildew while
on the clothes line. We often would have everything in the house drying
and yet, it would remain wet and begin to smell. When we arrived in
town, our clothes smelled rank and mildewy. Eventually, we would keep
city clothes in town and jungle clothes in the jungle. I was so happy
when Febreeze became available in Venezuela!!!<br />
<br />
Parasites were another problem. Dysentery type illnesses were common and we would have to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">de</span>-worm
the entire village every so many months. Since they share a common
eating and drinking gourd, when one was ill, all were ill. When ever we
ate with the people, we would suffer for a few days with stomach
ailments, but we seemed to slowly grow more resistant to the bugs and
were able to eat with less problems each year.<br />
<br />
<br />Culturally, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Ye'kwanas</span>
share gourds and when offered a drink or food it is very rude to deny
it. It is the worse possible insult to not take part in the meals. A
girl would serve you a large pot of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">yucuta</span>, made from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">casava</span>, and you were required to eat or drink it all. You could swallow it and spit it out, but you had to finish the pot. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Vomitting</span>
it up was NOT rude and much preferred to returning it unfinished. In
the common round house, you had to be careful where you stepped as much
<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">vomitting</span> is normal. All of this makes a wonderful breeding ground for more parasites!!!<br />
<br />
The other problem that was a daily battle was the head lice, as everyone is infected. In the evening, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">indian</span> family will sit around and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">de</span>
-louse one another. I am sure you have seen the pictures where they
appear to be eating the lice. Actually, they are only using their teeth
to kill the lice. If they only remove them and toss them to the ground,
they will be back. It is a sign of affection to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">de</span>-louse someone.I remember my youngest daughter would play at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">de</span>-lousing her dolls. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">indians</span>
thought that was so sweet, what a good little mommy she would be!!! We
used the same dog shampoo, weekly, in order to not get the lice.<br />
<br />
On
occasion, it was inevitable and one of the children would end up with
lice. The quickest way to get rid of the problem is to cover the head in
cooking oil, pop on a plastic shower cap for 24 hours, and then,
shampoo out. The oil will smother the lice and even penetrate the nits
and end the problem with one treatment.<br />
<br />
So many bugs...<br />
<br />
My husband became infected with <a href="http://thecommunityguide.org/ncidod/dpd/parasites/onchocerciasis/factsht_onchocerciasis.htm#what"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">onchocerciasis</span>. </a>This
is from the bites of the black fly and can lead to blindness. It also
caused some severe itching which he suffered with for years, until
finally able to kill the disease completely. The parasite, once in the
blood stream, can live for 10-15 years. It causes raised bumps under the
skin which are colonies of eggs. Very difficult to treat. There is a
large portion of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Sanema</span>
tribe of Venezuela who are going blind as I write this, entire villages
infected and not receiving treatment. It will eventually cause lesions
upon the eye itself and is painful. You can even see the larvae crawling
along the inner eye, just under the sclera.<br />
<br />
I could go on and on...<br />
<br />
We
saw some insects that made me think of aliens. I am sure there are a
few undiscovered bugs we saw. But the other bug that was a problem was
the army ant.<br />
<br />
Now, this is no ordinary ant! These ants
would come out of the jungle, swathing through everything. The largest
group I saw were about 4 feet across and walked through the village for
an entire day. They eat everything in their path and you can not stop
them. Not by water, fire, nothing. You must get out of their way and
remove anything organic you do not want to be eaten. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">indians</span> tell stories of babies being eaten while asleep, as these ants would march by.<br />
<br />
These
ants will cross creeks and rivers by making boats of large leaves. Very
freaky!!! You can hear them coming in the distance as they eat. Chomp!
Chomp! We had to cancel classes a few times while we waited for them to
walk through our class room. My kids loved that, as we had no snow
days, so they loved Ant Days! There is even a hot sauce the indians make
from ants which my husband eats and enjoys. But, my daughter prefers
termites! Easily accessible at night while attracted to the inside
light, all one must do is scrape them off the window screen and pop them
in the mouth. Our screens became the fast food joint for many
children!!<br />
<br />
And of course, the infamous 24 ant. Yes, it
exists. It is a large, black ant measuring a good 2 inches or so. It
not only bites with pincers but stings with its wasp like tail. It feels
as if it tears skin away while biting and does cause slight bleeding.
The toxin it injects with its stinger is like liquid fire and quickly
causes the entire muscle area where bitten to burn for several hours,
thus ,called the 24 ant. It wont kill you, but for 24 hours you will
wish it had! And yes, I am speaking from experience! (And my children
had better not tell any more details about it!!!!)<br />
<br />
<br />
Although
controversial, we treated many snake bites and 24 bites with electrical
shock. We had a small ammo box which was converted to a kit. Inside was
a small magnito attached to a handle outside which could be cranked to
produce a small, high voltage low amperage shock, similar to a taser.
Leads were attached on either side of the bite. This only works on
certain toxins and must not be used except on extremities. If applied
quickly, it greatly reduces the swelling involved in most bites and we
have seen it used this way several times. It changes the molecular
structure of the toxin.<br />
<br />
<br />
I haven't even mentioned spiders...<br />
<br />
<br />
I remember reading the Apostle Paul's book of Romans while dealing with a bad case of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">niguas</span> and seeing it in a whole new light.<br />
<br />
<br />
Romans 12:1 <br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"> I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God,<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice</span></span>, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service</span>.<br />
<br />
At times, I felt as if my body was a living sacrifice! Being consumed daily by the critters!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;">Roaches and chagas deserve a post of their own!</span></div>
Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-90550501129574146892013-04-03T10:36:00.002-07:002013-04-03T10:36:46.804-07:00Aicha<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOCYtbgyD1wAwkkjeY7S1KJG6F5e66yn5dvAhmb70YydxlLiGUDBXCzzdDhKrTjA4kJMUZ3MOlcEBt5r_hLIOCdNiacWPZC06OTr397fDgcru0nATg9gXMwQr6a9YKURV-J3Fun4ZxhlF/s1600/299257_10201011747634878_672129549_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOCYtbgyD1wAwkkjeY7S1KJG6F5e66yn5dvAhmb70YydxlLiGUDBXCzzdDhKrTjA4kJMUZ3MOlcEBt5r_hLIOCdNiacWPZC06OTr397fDgcru0nATg9gXMwQr6a9YKURV-J3Fun4ZxhlF/s640/299257_10201011747634878_672129549_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
My grand daughter, Elena (age 7) took this photo of me. She calls me 'Aicha' which is the Ye'kwana word for grandmother. It's fun to see things from a child's perspective. :)Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-66808441271763990062013-03-31T06:11:00.003-07:002013-03-31T06:11:53.573-07:00Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed! ~ ¡Cristo ha resucitado! ¡En verdad ha resucitado!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0VxljSppWk">The Grand Miracle</a></span></div>
Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-19777929437012799122013-03-16T05:53:00.002-07:002013-03-16T06:12:47.969-07:00 How to marry the perfect man<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSsawTQCDfWXSR4pcgsTHvZf_QX-dqu28CFQVkICLjXbYIw6fax9yrLWTe8VVmVUzOuUHTP6YaTZDkhSNXRgYVJ9nayelFHXweHhDynd87lUs_hAhmIuP6aKkQw8O5nYwkSNm2Xv3GaTn/s1600-h/4449_104677718355_515963355_2701796_5255156_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348276837365734114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSsawTQCDfWXSR4pcgsTHvZf_QX-dqu28CFQVkICLjXbYIw6fax9yrLWTe8VVmVUzOuUHTP6YaTZDkhSNXRgYVJ9nayelFHXweHhDynd87lUs_hAhmIuP6aKkQw8O5nYwkSNm2Xv3GaTn/s200/4449_104677718355_515963355_2701796_5255156_n.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 134px;" /></a>This broom was photographed by my oldest daughter and it does indeed
serve it's intended purpose. It is mainly used as an outdoor broom to
clean patios and yards. I have noticed that Paraguayans tend to keep a
very neat yard even when they live in a humble home.<br />
<br />
While mentioning this to my neighbor, she shared a Guarani <span style="font-style: italic;">'wives' tale' </span>with
me. It seems that the mothers and grand mothers are always telling the
young girls to do a thorough sweeping of the yard, porch, and house.<br />
<br />
This
sweeping needs to be done in a methodical, meticulous manner because it
will effect the future of the young lady. A girl needs to be extremely
cautious while sweeping so as not to leave behind any litter or dust
bunnies because each one left behind represents a flaw in her future
husband.<br />
<br />
So a lazy, careless girl will undoubtedly end
up married to a man with many character flaws, where as a diligent girl
will find herself betrothed to a nearly flawless man. <br />
<br />
No
wonder my neighbor's daughter gets up early and sweeps the yard almost
every day. Even the sidewalk! Her husband will certainly be a saint!
Personally, I am not so sure I would enjoy being married to a perfect
man. I would probably leave a few dust bunnies just to make sure my
future husband had a little 'rascal' left in him!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDi29NuF5bgGSbryDX07NhRieO8kOX66E-Rn9I-ZNa6llkB09swzxy5uN1hNMweS7Qu2g2cAwuZfldlt58VHs_pyWHXp7ituEldBpcjXRk2HA1xRvd3gyPBL1UoDA_lrmhIvH3VJOX2-yN/s1600/882801_10200244805275170_436365983_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDi29NuF5bgGSbryDX07NhRieO8kOX66E-Rn9I-ZNa6llkB09swzxy5uN1hNMweS7Qu2g2cAwuZfldlt58VHs_pyWHXp7ituEldBpcjXRk2HA1xRvd3gyPBL1UoDA_lrmhIvH3VJOX2-yN/s320/882801_10200244805275170_436365983_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My dream man!</div>
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<br />(artwork by BRIT ART)</div>
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Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-40730454343072070742013-03-06T14:49:00.000-08:002013-03-06T14:49:15.238-08:00Old memories awakened by the news of the death of Hugo Chavez<h2 class="date-header">
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The death of President Hugo Chavez has brought back a flood of emotions and memories as well as concerns for the future of Venezuela. I am reposting this as I gather my thoughts for an article about his death.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJTd4O3sP6lbuAjYimNvPo-nYlvCw3IeP0cwXjVa0tnLQYoH6r2ks5UKITueDZpsJxnTrr3WVUVxJMBIu5Zs5hZ3fdWjEtzG1d6N567pQiDE1OaPBIej1xfeKryD0cy1zgQJ3660yjAaY/s1600-h/206G3a.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038629753862220642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJTd4O3sP6lbuAjYimNvPo-nYlvCw3IeP0cwXjVa0tnLQYoH6r2ks5UKITueDZpsJxnTrr3WVUVxJMBIu5Zs5hZ3fdWjEtzG1d6N567pQiDE1OaPBIej1xfeKryD0cy1zgQJ3660yjAaY/s400/206G3a.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br /><br />This
is an article that we had written for our missions magazine in 2006. I
thought it might explain our situation a little better for some of you
who do not know us. We are now relocated to Paraguay where we continue
to serve as Baptist missionaries.<br /><br /><br /><br />From the window of the
Cessna 206 aircraft we took one last, long heart–wrenching look at the
jungle village that had been our home. Circumstances beyond our control
had forced us to leave a decade of work in the jungles of Venezuela. How
do you simply fly away from ten years of working to learn a language…to
establish a home, and to build relationships with some of the most
precious people on earth? We had shared our lives with theirs, mingling
our joys and sadness. We had become family with these Indian tribesmen
through the blood of Jesus Christ! Through tear–stained eyes, we said
good–bye to our Ye’kwana family, and the village they called Chajuraña.<br />Before
we moved to the village, we had ministered for 8 years in the city of
Barquisimeto. During those years, God was preparing us for the more
primitive, tribal ministry in the jungle village. (The nearest town from
Chajuraña is a two–week trip by canoe or a two-hour flight by mission
plane.) We first visited Chajuraña in 1994 to preach the Gospel and to
see churches planted throughout the Caura river valley.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM48yjQed-ih7ZrQromg0UVSRSv1Wu6nFanwtlFYJNUDewvO2w_sgVMabDr0ryvzPmwI3CiN4nNkC1zuM4rXbcAhg-H4A04yVCr3OlmZqOGy90tCig63DQlhpTzwmsn3JI2gnRK9y_szU/s1600-h/DSC00190.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038833846413159410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM48yjQed-ih7ZrQromg0UVSRSv1Wu6nFanwtlFYJNUDewvO2w_sgVMabDr0ryvzPmwI3CiN4nNkC1zuM4rXbcAhg-H4A04yVCr3OlmZqOGy90tCig63DQlhpTzwmsn3JI2gnRK9y_szU/s400/DSC00190.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Now our journey had unexpectedly brought us back to where it had all begun.<br />Our
wounds were still fresh as we visited the church in Barquisimeto during
a Wednesday evening service. Political tensions between the US and
Venezuela had escalated in the expulsion of all missionaries from the
jungle villages. We were expelled from our jungle ministry, and the
future of our airplane was in question. That evening, as my wife and I
read through I Thessalonians 2 with the believers in Barquisimeto, God’s
Word spoke to our hearts in a very pointed and personal way.<br />From
the window of the airplane, a disturbing thought had plagued my mind–was
it all in vain? A businessman might say, “yes.” At first glance, it
seemed that the costs were greater than the benefits. But God would have
the final word. Right there in verse one, Paul reminded me of what I
already knew… “For yourselves, brethren, know our entrance in unto you,
that it was not in vain.”<br />No, it was not in vain! It was not in vain
because we left something in that jungle village that could not be
expelled with us. We were as verse 4 says, “allowed of God to be put in
trust with the Gospel.” What a precious gift was entrusted to us to
deliver to the people of Chajuraña! God used us to carry the Gospel to
them! We were not the first. Cederico and Florinda Eddings of the
Orinoco River Mission had spent years there in the 70’s struggling to
minister under extremely primitive conditions. New Tribes missionaries,
in other parts of the jungle, had worked to translate the New Testament
into the Ye’kwana language. The hearts of some were ready to receive the
Gospel while others were hard and needed patience and love to prepare
their hearts for the Good News. When the Eddings left, they saw some
fruit, but not as much as they had desired. Regardless, they too
realized that their time was not in vain.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicW5Q9_4lZM22zhY6qOUZqgRgswvUNw1Y3b57eSrjZOFCwnIDOu_VmlyaEyUAxhrLKzL2j5erAYd16emdmPLLO2ix8DgLv4NFF7kXQYna2ubUTohym0yLVZ_4P-Imi-phoN7VLes5aKTk/s1600-h/DSC04492.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038832678182054882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicW5Q9_4lZM22zhY6qOUZqgRgswvUNw1Y3b57eSrjZOFCwnIDOu_VmlyaEyUAxhrLKzL2j5erAYd16emdmPLLO2ix8DgLv4NFF7kXQYna2ubUTohym0yLVZ_4P-Imi-phoN7VLes5aKTk/s400/DSC04492.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br /><br />We
were reminded of how precious our new friends had become to us when we
read in verse 8, “ye were dear unto us.” We found it necessary to not
only impart the Gospel but to share our very souls. Often times in a
tribal situation, because of language and cultural barriers, words alone
are not enough. One must become the very Bible that they read. The only
way for them to comprehend the love of Christ is by seeing it lived out
in a person’s daily life. That is not to imply that it came easily.<br />To
the contrary, we found the words of verse 9 to ring especially true,
“for laboring night and day.” We found living among them to be more
demanding than we had ever imagined. Not only were we forced to build a
house from materials totally alien to us, we also had to experience
first hand the rigors of malaria and other tropical diseases. At the
same time we were raising our four young children without the
convenience of electricity, running water, or for that matter–floors! We
have seen first-hand the tremendous toll that jungle illnesses can have
on missionaries. Our co–workers were forced to leave tribal ministry
after experiencing many bouts of sickness. I was of necessity the
preacher, teacher, doctor, dentist, pharmacist, midwife, airstrip
builder, village mechanic and carpenter. On a regular basis we were
awakened at night to attend to the sick or to deliver babies.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yyR-snptZVKEX401gaLAUs81omDiaI7nMcZ2mR1sVR6BuWXkX7-lEfHxUhk27M9Pn8fm5lpenQnvijTxzqHCWoU-zBPspTm1O_U3NHCDRfQ3QGINVTWtzqCSSrKIfFxDkihTxAL_gxs/s1600-h/DSC03128.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038830870000823250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yyR-snptZVKEX401gaLAUs81omDiaI7nMcZ2mR1sVR6BuWXkX7-lEfHxUhk27M9Pn8fm5lpenQnvijTxzqHCWoU-zBPspTm1O_U3NHCDRfQ3QGINVTWtzqCSSrKIfFxDkihTxAL_gxs/s400/DSC03128.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />So,
why did we do it? Again, Paul’s words in verse 12 echo our hearts
cry…“That ye would walk worthy of God.” Our motivation for being in this
ministry was so that we could preach the Gospel to the Indians and see
their lives changed by the power of the cross and the work of the Holy
Spirit. As Paul also said in I Thessalonians 1:9, we saw many who
“turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God.” Even as I
write this I can see their faces, Ye’kwana men and women who left their
heathen ways and now “walk worthy of God.”<br />Ramon – He heard the Gospel for nearly 40 years before he believed and became an example of faithfulness.<br />Luis
Milano – He was the worst drunk and womanizer in the village with four
wives and nearly 30 children. He came to know Christ after the death of
his Christian son.<br />Petra – She was the wife of the witch doctor. She
was the first believer in the village and prayed for years that someone
would come and teach her more of the Word of God.<br />Magdelena – Through her own death, she became a witness to over 500 Indians from other villages.<br />Space does not permit me to tell each and every story, but you can someday hear their stories in Heaven.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCbuTAe-ZsDSoxbLgPvquUfYErfbMhbYSNz8-QObIeNCep0xtHA7WuavOtU-z71-nf33mFft3kBEJvsw3fe6Nr88aXk5C6kIX6jXdtuxI4AshGdTRZuQb3_uZK7svVbp_6Uk6kx-xu64/s1600-h/DSC04524.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038830861410888642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCbuTAe-ZsDSoxbLgPvquUfYErfbMhbYSNz8-QObIeNCep0xtHA7WuavOtU-z71-nf33mFft3kBEJvsw3fe6Nr88aXk5C6kIX6jXdtuxI4AshGdTRZuQb3_uZK7svVbp_6Uk6kx-xu64/s400/DSC04524.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br /><br />We
do thank God for the privilege of being His witnesses among these
people. It is a fearful thing to be the one called upon to deliver God’s
message to men when they do not have God’s Word written in their own
language. That’s why the words of verse 13 were especially applicable to
us: “For this cause also thank we God without ceasing, because, when ye
received the word of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as
the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God, which
effectually worketh also in you that believe.” We have seen the power of
the Word of God and the work that it brings forth in the lives of the
people when they receive it, whether it be from our mouths or from the
written page. For this reason, while we are still allowed to remain in
the country of Venezuela, we feel strongly that we should dedicate
ourselves to the unfinished work of translating the Old Testament into
the Ye’kwana language so that they may read it for themselves.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLp0iXpV1wlQ3KjKNxNOnEjHfEzxu1otB0sovERB22RyxnsU93xOXIFoChLre2xkV9NFt8zwyZROr13JPkCc5Y174DZJdr7sXnJYX84VCrBnJVPd6vI1IMPowYWrwCJSJsONFurDc7ycQ/s1600-h/jonathan+reed.+012.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038828950150441890" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLp0iXpV1wlQ3KjKNxNOnEjHfEzxu1otB0sovERB22RyxnsU93xOXIFoChLre2xkV9NFt8zwyZROr13JPkCc5Y174DZJdr7sXnJYX84VCrBnJVPd6vI1IMPowYWrwCJSJsONFurDc7ycQ/s400/jonathan+reed.+012.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />Verse
14 also resonated in our hearts: “for ye have also suffered like things
of your own countrymen.” When President Chavez decreed that evangelical
missionaries must leave the tribal areas, Indian believers began to
suffer at the hands of their own countrymen. The missionary pastors that
were forced to leave are often the only medical help available to
jungle tribes. Missionary pilots are also no longer allowed to fly the
sick to the hospitals. Two natives from our area have already died
needlessly because of this decision. There is no longer medicine
available in the dispensary, as this also came through mission
donations.<br />At this time, missionaries are not allowed to minister in
the tribal areas. We understand Paul’s experience in verse 16:
“Forbidding us to speak.” In most cases the Christian Indians are also
cut off from each other due to lack of communication and transportation.
Additionally, many mission bases are being converted into military
posts. There are psychological operations in place for the purpose of
re–indoctrinating the Indians who have been under missionary influence.
They are being told to return to their old ways and religion. In our
last church service in Chajuraña, Victor, the pastor, said, “They can
take the missionaries out of our village, but they cannot take the Holy
Spirit from our hearts.’<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51wUJMFFtSUTAorw1ZNuKt8RvYxBHs9Xra93J163ICLJqj2Punr5ziv3zQ2iDvzQG4z0aJcDxbaxF-83mKQp9w_AWZlPQXwaitgwM9_qOC5acN0_YtkB1F3mBQzwhi63E5_dQpuVtnFQ/s1600-h/DSC00875.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038829521381092274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51wUJMFFtSUTAorw1ZNuKt8RvYxBHs9Xra93J163ICLJqj2Punr5ziv3zQ2iDvzQG4z0aJcDxbaxF-83mKQp9w_AWZlPQXwaitgwM9_qOC5acN0_YtkB1F3mBQzwhi63E5_dQpuVtnFQ/s400/DSC00875.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />We
like Paul are “…being taken from you for a short time in presence, not
in heart.” (Vs. 17) Although we are not able to be with our congregation
in Chajuraña, they remain in our hearts. Even our youngest daughter has
cried in church services wishing she could be in our Indian church. God
has put a love in our hearts that goes beyond the physical separation.
Not a day goes by that we are not thinking of them, praying for them.
“For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in
the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming?” (Vs. 19) Whatever
hardships we have experienced in the past, whatever difficulties we may
experience in the future, we will never regret the years in Chajuraña
at the Good Hope Baptist Church! The joy of seeing people come to Christ
cannot be taken from us. Even if we had our doubts today, imagine the
rejoicing we will share at the Second Coming of Christ. We look forward
to walking on heavenly streets in the company of our Ye’kwana believers.<br />Over
the years many people have questioned why we would isolate ourselves
deep in the jungle to reach tribal people or how we could be happy
raising our children in primitive conditions. Verse 20 says it all: “For
ye are our glory and joy.” Any glory and joy that we have in eternity
will far outweigh our past and present trials. The Ye’kwana people will
never read these words but some of them will be in heaven with us –
thanks to the prayer and financial support of people they will never
meet in this life. For ye…Victor, Antonio, Maria, Magdalena, Joel, and
my many other Ye’kwana brothers and sisters’ye are our glory and joy!</div>
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Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353976153892651135.post-20883071863283237972013-02-23T12:35:00.001-08:002013-02-23T12:35:49.700-08:00Today is National Tereré Day<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/videoseries?list=PL11FA9EA73E11E1A4&index=17" width="425"></iframe>Rita Locahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09961929692808138092noreply@blogger.com2