What is a faun? Higher up and further in with an outreach twist. Writing.

God’s Love


a very new and young assembly we went to visit and help with, with their own traditional musical instruments

A Little Spot of Heaven in the “OLD” Cochabamba Downtown


back garden of the Jordan street guest home where we lived for five months after first arriving in Cochabamba, in the eighties

A Unique Adventure God Gave Me, Part Three.

Alright, well, to take up where I left off before, the rickety narrow steps going up to the rooftop/second “storey” of the big, open, multi-hovel brothel where our four children lived with their mother had VERY uneven steps, plus only had a railing on one side.  As I carried the heavy end of one wooden bunkbed up those stairs, 12-year-old M. carrying the other end, and going first, I had to try to lift the weight up high so that my end of the bed would fit between and over the railing, and the dangling poorly strung electrical wires and chicken-wire netting above the adobe bricks used to delineate the edge of that property, from the next one, and also, for sure, to deter thieves who might try to climb over the wall to steal people’s natural gas cooking stove tanks.  All of a sudden I heard catcalls, whistles and “Que macha!” (“Wow, what a jock”).

The catcalls and remarks were being addressed to me, because I was carrying one end of a heavy wooden bunkbed all by myself up some stairs.  I ignored the remark and prayed in my heart, “Jesus, protect us all three, and help us to get these bunkbeds delivered to these children, and help us to shine your LIGHT in this dark and awful place!”  I felt a little more calm after that, even though my heart was pounding and sweat was breaking out all over but that was because of the weight of that bunkbed and the fact that it was a very warm summer afternoon.

A unique adventure God gave me last Thursday afternoon. Part One.

A few of the more serious and heartfelt posts on here I need to make sure I give without any photos. This will be one.  Good exercise for me to try to describe my experience and my resultant thoughts about it, to you, in words alone without the “crutch” of photographs.

Three afternoons ago, at six o’clock, I thanked my hubby for giving me a ride out to the ministry where I help a tiny bit, gave him a kiss and jumped out of his jeep and briefly rang the doorbell on my friend’s property, then let myself in the black-painted metal pedestrian door with the painted tin can lid on a wire covering over the hole you can stick your arm through to open the slide-bar from the outside.

Three of us, all women, met up and a tiny white rattle-trap taxi had been called. The driver pulled up outside and we opened one side of the metal car door to the property and started carrying out, bit by bit, two brand new wooden bunk beds, two new foam-with-fiber, and a sewn cover on the outside mattresses, and the drawers and ladder to the bunk beds.  The driver loosely lashed some of the bunk bed parts to the top of the roof rack where they towered, looking a bit like a a two-year-old’s efforts to play Jenga, and we three gals piled into the taxi. The driver took off slowly, easing over the bumps and ruts and through heavy traffic.  After driving a short distance, we pulled up in front of a sprawling, run-down old brothel.

“HERE?????” How surprised and embarrassed the driver was! Yes, here. My friend had called ahead and, the paint-peeled metal door to that rundown brothel property was open, and three little children, siblings, R., G. and M. were already waiting for us out in front, joyfully jumping up and down, big smiles on their little faces!

Let me back up a little.  This ministry, where I help out a little is an outreach of sharing the Good News, and also teaching the Bible, to, principally, about fifty teens and children and some of their family members, each of the kids and teens of which is the child of sex trade workers and clients. The raison d’être and goal of the ministry is to see each child saved and protected, on every level and provide surrogate Christian “family” to each child.  The ministry platform/felt need/way we get access to these children and teens  used for the outreach is after-school homework support and nutritional support, for the children. Ours is a day program, not an orphanage. About half our kids are extremely malnourished when they first come into the center.  About a quarter of them have not been signed up for free public schooling; the first thing we do for a child is make sure that they are signed up for school, and then, we help them each day with their homework, plus give them nutritious simple lunch, snack and tea or breakfast, since their moms don’t cook or give them regular meals.  (To be continued…)

Epilogue Part One:  Why would we do this – go to such a place?  There’s only one reason – identical motivations for all three of us – for the sake of the children.  These young lives.  These little persons.  Jesus would have gone to that place, for them.  You go to such a place, a prayer on your lips and in your heart,sticking close one with another every second with your co-workers, one hundred percent only for the sake of Christ and for the sake of those three children, those three little siblings, R., G. and M., who are in our program, who live inside that brothel with their mother, who do not have a dad, and who sleep together with their mom and each other in one small dirty bed – the four of them, which is the bed, in the room, where their mother also plies her trade.  This family’s home is that one tiny, windowless room, with no table and no chair. Partially it is a family of five, not four, because another one of our little boys in the ministry, J., gets left by his mom for weeks at a time, frequently, with R., G., and M. and their mom, to live.  Okay, so, that’s four boys, the oldest of whom has turned 12, though he’s tiny and looks MUCH younger.  And one little girl, and that mom.  All sleeping in one bed. We were taking the new wooden bunkbeds, and mattresses, to fit into the side of that tiny dark room, for the children – the 3 boys to sleep in one bunk and the little girl, G., to have her own bed, the other bunk.  That was our project, that was our dream for G., R., M. and J.  THAT was our reason, our ONLY reason, for going to such a place.



-a poem by NinadesusOjos


that nourishes my body and my mind,

green and raw and crisp and orange,

no greasy, sweet, soft, white, starch, flour,

thirst-quenching springwater,

apples, oatmeal, quinua, squash and lettuce.


reading to learn,

reading to be stung to think,

reading to laugh,

reading to relax and fly away.


to know Him more,

to enjoy Him more deeply,

to worship Him more fervently,

to study His Word,

to delight myself in my beloved position with Him.


marveling at their quirks and mine,

smiling at a ten-year-old’s clumsy joke,

listening to their hearts,

mourning with them in their grief,

dancing hand-in-hand in their triumphs,

sharing my Lovely and Loving God with them.

M.C.M. Bearing Fruit

img_5903– Guest Post by P.B.

“Feliciano Rios lives with his wife and five children in Chillavi, a small Andean town located in the high mountains to the north of Cochabamba.  Like almost all of the residents of Chillavi and the surrounding villages, Feliciano and his family live off subsistence agriculture, farming small parcels of land.  They also have small herds of sheep and llamas.

Feliciano has been a believer for 24 years, since before he was married.  Feliciano didn’t grow up in church, nor in a Christian family.  He has never been to a Bible school or seminary of any type.  However, for the past four years Feliciano has been the itinerant leader of 19 little churches spread out through the mountains around Chillave.  How does he do it?  Where did he learn the Word of God?

As Feliciano will tell you, “M.C.M. short-wave radio has taught me the Bible.  The programs encourage me, teach me how to educate my children, how to be a good husband and father, how to resolve the challenges that come up in a family.  The Radio has shown me how to grow and mature.  While I listen to the programs, I take notes in order to share with others in the 19 churches I help.  M.C.M. has been my teacher.”

Feliciano has listened to M.C.M. radio since we started broadcasting almost 15 years ago.  It is great to hear of the Radio’s impact on his life, and the manner in which that has gone on to impact the lives of so many others.”

For us women. On being a woman, on being an older woman, on our culture’s attitude toward older women, on genuine humility and authenticity.

IMG_4475  A small group of believers, mostly Bolivian, headed by a Bolivian female medical doctor who is, herself, a missionary, and who is NOT the person who doesn’t blend in, in the bottom photo,IMG_0110 arranged IN TEAM for many indigenous Bolivian marginalized children, in an out-of-the-way community in a far away jungle, to get the parasite testing they needed to help address their acute health needs. The project happened in part because some older women within the team, made it happen.

Browsing through an Indie kind of a thick paperback book, this weekend.

It’s good in spite of its goofy title.  I found this book outside the door of Barnes and Noble, on a clearance sale cart, and picked it up for, I think, one dollar.

“Younger by the Day – 365 ways to rejuvenate your body and revitalize your spirit”. By Victoria Moran.


But, listen to this, from the March 14 entry on “Concrete Confidence”.

“Concrete confidence is the kind that does not depend on externals…

While concrete confidence is unshakeable, confidence based only on how you look or on what the world thinks of you is easily lost…

Our culture does not yet value older women…

One day, people will be appalled at this wholesale disregard for women at the time they have the most to offer.

Right now, we can either side with the culture by shrinking obediently and denying our gifts, or we can confidently go forth with every year we’ve lived a further credential…

If your confidence is shaky, pretend that it isn’t.  A prime tenet of successful living is that behavior can precede belief.  That is, you can act as if your confidence is as solid as concrete when in fact it may be more akin to tissue paper!.No matter.  Go about your day as if you have concrete confidence in yourself, your abilities, and the impression you make.

If you cling to the odd sort of selfishness that singles you out as less worthy than someone else, ask yourself, “What made me so unique as to be LESS worthy?”

Humility is a fine thing (if it’s genuine); sackcloth and ashes make anybody look bad.”   -pp.91 and 92