DanandDalaina.com

 Hi Everyone!
A month and a couple of days from now, we will be in California!! As I’ve thought about our upcoming furlough, I am excited. I am also terrified. I am terrified because as funny as my children are here in the jungle, the exact behavior that brings an amused smile to my face is guaranteed to bring horror to yours. See, they aren’t… normal. Don’t get me wrong, they are sweet and cute and smart and all that, but they simply are incapable of acting like regular, American children. Maybe because they aren’t. So I’ve decided to compose this e-mail as a kind of helpful warning. Let it serve to both enlighten you about jungle-raised children and to help you decide if you really want to be caught in public with us this summer. Hopefully, once I have explained WHY they do the things they are likely to do, you won't just us off as mere nutjobs.
 
There are some things you should know:
 
TV
We don’t have a television in the jungle, and my kids’ interaction with media is limited to occasional skype calls with their grandparents and one dvd a week if they sit through church without major mishaps. Because of this my boys have really out-there imaginations. On a daily basis, they are acting out all sorts of scenarios and playing all sorts of roles in them. Of course, they are also male, and as such prefer the stories of good vs. evil… except they tend to want to be the bad guys. I dunno why. I guess Captain Hook is just cooler than Peter Pan. So if you see them pretending to be Vikings or the Huns invading China or even the soldiers stringing up Jesus on the cross (yes, I’ve seen all of these), don’t freak out. It’s just the natural outcome of very little tv time and a triple load of testosterone.
 
Creepy Crawlies
The Amazon is filled with all sorts of living things that simply don’t exist in the United States. Even things that are found in both places generally take on a scarier form here. We have flies that bite and drop eggs into your skin, plants that sting and burn, and ants that pack a punch that can put a grown man on the ground in agony. My kids are accustomed to what they encounter here and know what they should avoid. So, if for some reason, you find an alligator, they will want to hold it, but if you point out a caterpillar to them, be prepared to have them scream bloody murder and scramble up your back.  
 
Danger
When we first got to Peru, I was pretty jumpy. There are lots of scary things here that I just had had to “get over.” I mean, we often bathe in a seriously fast river, our yard ends with a 30ft. cliff, and there are untold scary things living within feet of my house. My boys are also accustomed to things that normal, American parents would not dream of letting their kids be around or do. We have an active fire in the yard all the time and the boys tote around machetes to help Dan chop wood (they’re dull, I promise!). Heck, even their tree climbing is terrifying to watch – my hope is that if they fall, they will at least hit the roof and not go straight to the ground. So it’s not that they are pyros or sociopaths or even dare devils, they just know what’s worth being afraid of. Like caterpillars. So if they talk your kid into climbing onto and jumping off of the roof, don’t worry. They’ll also teach him how to land without breaking an ankle.
 
Nudity
My kids can’t keep their clothes on. And I can’t really blame them because half of their friends get to run around naked all the time. We try to implement a rule about no nudity outside, and we explain about how their “private parts” are private, but you can understand why they don’t believe us when we call them outside, strip them naked, and bathe them in the yard with the entire neighborhood watching. I promise they are not exhibitionists, they are just confused.
 
Bathrooms
As long as we are talking nudity, let me add in a word about bathrooms. For my children, they are relative. We have only one toilet, and mommy and her parasites spend more than their fair share of time with it, so anywhere outside is game for a little sprinkle. And it’s not just our family. Any man in the village will just turn his back and let ‘er rip when nature calls. It’s just not a big deal here. Please, when (not if) my boys start peeing in the church yard, don’t judge us too harshly.
 
Private Parts
Okay, I can’t let the nudity thing go yet because I just know we are bound to freak some people out. See, my boys are… boys, and all of them are at that age where anything having to do with body functions or the parts that make them are HYSTERICAL. At any given moment, one of them might yell “PENIS!!” and all three will fall into a fit of giggles. At least we’ve moved past the “boobie” obsession where every nursing neighbor was scrutinized and laughed over. Furthermore, the boys have a good understanding of biology, what with the half-naked neighbors and their pregnant mother and a home school human biology unit. I’ll even admit that I err on the side of giving them too much information. So really, just ignore them when they tell you that their bodies make sperm and that mommy’s boobies are getting “very, very, very big.” They aren’t creepy, they are just… okay, they’re a little creepy.
 
 
Look, they WILL do something (probably many somethings) to raise eyebrows this summer and no doubt cause a few people to approach our missions pastor about being affiliated with our family. I can assure you that we are desperately trying to help them understand the ins and outs of socially acceptable behavior and manners, but it is a very steep uphill battle. Just remember that my kids might not have been born in a barn, but they are being raised in the jungle.
 
 Thank you for your understanding,
Dalaina

Yesterday, I was talking with a friend about ministry, particularly the idea of whether or not we should expect to see the miraculous in ministry and what it means if we do not. It was interesting visiting the subject as it made me take a step back and evaluate where we’ve been the past 3 years since arriving in Peru.
 
As the conversation continued, I made the observation that if we aren’t seeing the power of God all over our ministries, then I think we are doing it wrong. But that doesn’t just mean seeing miracles either.
 
Around ten years ago while I was in college and trying to figure out what direction I would go in life, I started praying very specific prayer. I told God that I wanted to be in the thick of something impossible. I wanted to be living in a situation that was so beyond me that He would have to be radically present or I would not make it.
 
Maybe it’s a touch of narcissism that makes me want the greatness and grandeur of living radically. Of wanting to see the miracles. Of desiring to be in a position that requires God to “show up.” Or maybe I am just nuts. Because last night I had a good laugh at myself when I realized that God has done exactly what I asked… only in a way that I hadn’t exactly meant.
 
Looking back on the last few years, I think it’s not unreasonable to say, “I really shouldn’t have been here.” When we arrived in Peru, I was a mom of 3 under 2 in the middle of a major depressive episode. I was a complete and total wreck. Daily, I was pleading with God to just let me go home. It was too much, and I couldn’t handle it. And daily, I felt the firm reply, “No. There’s grace for today. Press on.” It was only obedience that kept us in Peru much of the time.
 
And now I realize that was exactly what I had asked for, sort of. To live in desperate and daily need of God. To be fully convinced without His very real hand on me, it just wouldn’t work. I just expected that it would be around me, not in me.
 
Now, I feel like I am going through a transitional phase. The kids are older, the village is no longer terrifying, and I am emotionally and psychologically stable. While maybe my need for God is not going to look the same (maybe I can actually get out of bed and function without divine intervention), I think the whole experience has whetted my desire not to live in safety and ease. As we are slowly transitioning from language/cultural studies into actual teaching and ministry, I want to remain at God’s mercy. I want to be completely confident that I cannot do it on my own, and if I am, then I am doing it wrong. I want to be like Peter. I want to be one who steps away from the safety of the boat to start walking on something that I have no business being on. To have to have my eyes fixed on Jesus lest I sink and perish for daring to try to accomplish anything on my own.
 
As I continued to reflect on this whole concept, I remembered this amazing message that I heard ten years ago and, funny enough, I had brought the CD with me to the village. I popped it in this morning and was struck again by this part: “You cannot find security in what God is doing because He commits you to the impossible; He asks you to see the invisible; He calls you to do the outrageous. There is no security in that place. There is no security in what God is doing. There is only security in who God is.”
 
It’s so true. There is nothing comforting in what God is doing. It’s always unexpected and always beyond our ability to understand. But His character never changes. He is always faithful and kind; He is always good and patient, full of mercy and compassion. His character is where I have to rest. Though I have no idea what He is going to do in a given day, week, or month, I am absolutely certain that He is trustworthy. And really, if He is all that, living on the edge is not such a scary place to be.

I heard this story not long after we arrived in Tsoroja. It is told by the pastor of the Caquinte church who is also one of the oldest men in the village AND the youngest brother in this story. I never wrote it down myself, so when my teammate, Jon, posted the story on his blog (http://jonnybojangles.blogspot.com), I had to steal it. Enjoy!
 
A number of years ago there was a Caquinte man named Shanquenteni. He was a Shaman and had 7 wives. One day he was walking through the jungle, and he happened upon a flower. As he looked at its perfection, it dawned on him that there must be a Creator. He thought that if there was a Creator who made the flower, that same Creator must have made him and all other people. With this realization he knew that it was wrong to kill people, and that the Creator wouldn't want him to spend all of his days drinking.
 
He started searching for this Creator Spirit and climbed to the top of the mountains to find him. He went to the lowest valleys and rivers, but he could not find the Creator there either. He then took ayahuasca and had a shamanistic vision.
 
In his vision, he was on a hill overlooking a valley. An angel came up to him and told him to jump across the valley. Shanquenteni told him that he couldn’t, but the angel insisted. He jumped and made it to the other side of the valley, only to see a larger valley. The angel told him to jump again, and this time he immediately obeyed. This happened a few more times, each valley larger than the last, until finally Shanquenteni was overlooking a valley that was impossibly big to cross. On the hill across the valley there was a shining city. The angel turned to him and said, "You will die soon, but your children will come to learn from the Inquirishi, and they will come to know the Creator through them."
 
Shanquenteni awoke from his vision, and told all of his children about what he saw. Soon afterwards he died, and three of his children went on a long journey to a Machiguenga village. When they arrived, they met a Wycliffe missionary who told them that if they came to live in the village they would be able to learn about the Creator.
 
The three brothers returned to their home, and on trail, a man from the village that they just left killed the eldest brother. The youngest brother became very sick, which left the middle brother, who was only about 12 years old, to carry his younger brother home on his back.
 
The brothers told of what they heard and convinced their family to move to the Machiguenga village where they could learn about the Creator.
 
Years later the Caquinte made their own village and got their own translators. But even before they met a single American, they were told in a dream that they would learn about the Creator from the Inquirishi, which so happens to be the way that they pronounce "English" in Caquinte.

Sometimes, God steps in uninvited. Sometimes it’s with a whisper, “I’m still here.” Sometimes, like today, it’s with an unexpected shout, “I AM!”
I was just getting out of the shower this morning, and I put on a new album I received for Christmas. The first song that came on was “What Do I Know of Holy?” Before the first verse was over, I was sitting on the floor with tears running down my face, feeling… small.
As God seemed to repeat over and over, “I AM. I AM bigger than you, bigger than this. More than you can possibly understand. All that you know of Me is such a small speck of the full truth of who I AM.”, I realized that my world had so shrunk in the past couple of months that it had started revolving around me. 
It’s so easy for me to lose perspective during seasons of illness and busyness, so easy that it goes unnoticed for awhile. Even though I might be going through the motions of Bible study and prayer, my gaze slowly drifts away. And then comes that faintest whiff of heaven that drags my eyes back to where they should be focused.
The crazy thing is that this shift in perspective is not offensive; it’s a relief. His bigness reminds me of my smallness, but it is not a smallness that is insignificant. In the same moment that He says, “I AM,” He also says, “And you are. Mine. Valuable. Worthy. Irreplaceable.”  When I remember the bigness of God and the smallness of myself, my fists of control finally loosen enough to dump my fears, frustrations, and unspoken dreams in the hands of the only One able to hold them all. And then, free from my burdens, I can actually look at Him again and inhale the breath of peace that I didn’t realize that I was waiting to take.
 
 
Here's a link to Addison Road's incredibly powerful song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVScvSBsm40
 
 
What Do I Know of Holy – Addison Road
I made You promises a thousand times
I tried to hear from Heaven
But I talked the whole time
I think I made You too small
I never feared You at all
If You touched my face would I know You?
Looked into my eyes could I behold You?

(CHORUS)
What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out
I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about
How You were mighty to save
Those were only empty words on a page
Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be
The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees

(CHORUS)
What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

(CHORUS 2)
What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?
And a God who gave life its name?
What do I know of Holy?
Of the One who the angels praise?
All creation knows Your name
On earth and heaven above
What do I know of this love?

(CHORUS)
What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?

About a year ago, my teammate Nichole and I assisted a very difficult birth (see Martha) that ended in the comatose woman being evacuated to deliver her placenta. This weekend, I assisted another birth that was erily similar. Worse, actually, because there were issues with the newborn as well (see Silvania's Story). But there were some major differences in my heart and attitude one year later as I encountered another fearful situation far beyond my own abilities - this time I trusted God. I don't write that as a prideful disclosure, more an amazed one. And a thankful one since it shows me that God really is working behind the scenes in my heart, building up my confidence in Him and my hope in His plans.
As I sat next to Silvania in the middle of the night wondering if she would survive until daylight, she asked me to sing to her. I sang exactly what was in my heart - "Amazing Grace." Only an hour before, I had been literally on my face on the airstrip a few yards from their house, begging God for mercy. I begged Him not so much for her life, but for her chance to hear the Gospel. I reminded Him that He left the 99 to go after the one, and could only cry, "What about her? Don't forget about Silvania!" Even as my tears flowed, I was not filled with fear this time, but confidence. I didn't know what God would do; I had no assurance that He would save her. But I KNOW my God, and I KNOW that He is good. Always and every time.
Then I went back to Silvania's side and tried the last (dangerous) medical intervention I could do. When I failed in attempting the same procedure with Martha, I felt so much despair. When I failed with Silvania, I felt peace. God would work in another, better way. So I sang to her about God's grace and goodness until she fell asleep. She didn't understand a word that I sang, but God did and I did.
I still marvel that my reaction was one of hope and peace because that is so unnatural for me. And not a tentative hope and peace, a roaring, fierce kind that saturated every cell in my body. The kind that kept screaming in my mind, "Great is Your Faithfulness!" Oh to cling to this kind of hope and peace in the little moments that seem insignificant! If He is big enough and good enough for the moments when we are beyond ourselves, how can we possibly fear and be anxious about our day to day challenges? He is most definitely Lord over those moments as well.