Prayer Cards

I can do without flushing toilet paper now. I've become accustomed to mudslides, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions. The crushing poverty that is the norm here is at least familiar and no longer quite as overwhelming to my senses as it was at first. And, I've made my peace with only getting to see my family and friends once a year. So, you want me to tell you what really, truly, and honestly is the hardest part about life on the mission field?

Are you ready? You sure?

Lean in a little...

Prayer cards. 

It's prayer cards.

Ok, that might be an exaggeration, but there is some truth to it. Missionaries are called to be a lot of things to a lot of people. We stand daily (hourly!) on the promise that God will equip us for every good work (2 Tim. 3:17), 'cause there's always a lot of work to be done.  We pray, worship, preach, teach, cry, build, encourage, disciple, clean, fix, create... Oh, and then there's also the PR side of this "job." Newsletters. Flyers. Blogs. Emails. Fundraisers. Communication of all sorts. Honestly, that is one of the most time consuming and challenging parts of the work we do. At least I've done all those things before, but but this is my first go around with prayer cards. 

Prayer cards are those glossy, pretty cards that missionaries hand out like candies when they're on furlough so people can put them up on their refrigerators and remember to pray for their friends in the field. All the ones I've ever seen are stunning and clever and crisp and lovely and even seem to smell faintly of exotic locales. (Can you sense the envy?) In theory, I love this idea for our ministry. There's something very appealing about knowing people are seeing us and thinking about us and praying for us every morning when they get milk for their cereal or are indulging in a midnight snack. The problem is, I'm not sure we're cute enough for a prayer card. 

Don't get me wrong - I don't mean our looks. Granted, we don't have grinning toddlers or wide-eyed babies anymore, which automatically raise the cute factor of any picture. Still, I like to think we're a pretty darn cute family anyway, if I do say so myself. No, the kind of cute I'm talking about is the coordinated sweaters, adorable fonts, burlap and lace, Pinterest pro, essential oils type of cute. 

I know you know what I mean. 

That's just not me. 

So, I'm trying to put together a prayer card, 'cause I believe in them and I want to be on people's fridges and I'm getting ready to go on furlough and the clock is ticking! But, we don't have services down here that do cute stuff like that, so it's all on me. How do you make a good prayer card? Well, it has to start with good pictures. Unfortunately, professional photography is not widely available, and not in our budget, so all pics for this project are selfies or photos taken on the run on my cheap cell phone camera. Hmmm... So far I've pulled a blurry pic of a volcano for our backdrop and a smattering of closeups of our more-or-less in-focus faces. <sigh> This is where I start thinking I should be doing a better job of documenting and photographing our life instead of just focusing on, you know, living it.

Still, I am trying to remind myself that I'm not trying to sell an image, literally or figuratively. In fact, I'm not selling anything. I'm giving people the chance to pray for us. To join us in the often not-so-glamorous trenches here. I'm good at a lot of things that matter to ministry. I teach well, including Bible classes that change lives and eternities. I pray with people readily, frequently, and fairly comfortably - in two languages no less. And, I am big enough (a giant here, really) to wrap my arms around people and give hugs that make them feel safe and loved. Those things are what are important, not my lack of tech skills or resources when it comes to making these prayer cards.

Right?

So, despite the fact that I have neither essential oils nor an avid and sizeable Pinterest following, I'm going to finish these darn cards. Whether they will be stunning and clever and crisp and lovely, I don't yet know. (I will spare recipients the smell of Guatemala, though, since it is more pungent than exotic, to be perfectly frank.) They might not be super cute, but they will be from the heart, filled with love, and hopefully appearing soon on refrigerators all over as a reminder that we're here and we do so appreciate your prayers and support.

Perspective

Sooo.... here's something to think about: Our oldest daughter, who is 17, just returned to the States to go to college. She searched diligently for well over a month and applied to dozens of jobs, eventually landing a fantastic one as a housekeeper at a bed and breakfast. She makes $15 an hour, which is AWESOME and she's super duper grateful for it, but it's also not that much above the going hourly rate for the many other entry-level jobs she applied for (most were between $10 and $12). 

Here in Guatemala, the official minimum wage is 2,500 quetzales a month ($342.47), but many, many, many people (including a whole lot whom I personally know) actually only make 2,000 quetzales a month. It's pretty standard, actually. This includes entry-level workers, certainly, but isn't exclusively the young or unskilled. I have a friend who is a trained teacher with20+ years of teaching experience working full-time at a private school who makes 2,000 quetzales.

That's $273.97 a month.
$68.49 per week.
$13.70 per day.
$1.71 per hour.

Now, of COURSE, plenty of people do make more than that, and do not ever think that there aren't wealthy people in Guatemala! But, 2,000Q is the norm for a vast, vast, vast number of Guatemalans trying to feed their families and keep roofs over their heads. Keep in mind, this doesn't include the huge percentage (probably majority) who can't get steady jobs. They farm, sell products on the streets or markets, and (yes) work as housekeepers, though they're not making $15 an hour. Or even 2,000 Q a month. These people usually make even less.
 
Granted - some things are cheaper here. Fresh fruits and vegetables, for example, are less. Whereas an avocado in my local grocery stores in Iowa often ran $1 each, I can buy 7 for $1 here. A big head of broccoli is $0.68. Onions are sometimes as cheap as $0.21 per pound. Housing, too, is a LOT less. You can rent a 3 bedroom house here for $150 a month, though it will most certainly leak in the rainy season, not include a place to park, have no closets or cabinets or appliances, and be in a very questionable neighborhood. Still, it is possible to rent a perfectly respectable and safe (though by no means luxurious) 3 bedroom house for $350 a month, plus utilities, of course. (Electricity - $62.00, cell phone, single line - $27, gas - $28, etc.) Clearly, some things cost much less here. Then again, others cost more.

Luxuries like electronics are a lot more. Computers, for example, tend to run 30 to 40% higher here than in the States. But, the prices of things we consider normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill stuff can be quite startling sometimes. A 750 ml (25 oz) bottle of mid-range shampoo (Pantene, for example) is $10. Butter is almost $2.00 per STICK. Gasoline (regular, not premium) is $2.74 a gallon right now, down from $4.38 a year or so ago. 18 regular rolls of toilet paper - the kind that is not so thin that it disintegrates on contact, but not plush by any stretch of the imagination, either - is $8.90.

Honestly, I don't know how people do it. We are really frugal people, stick to a strict budget, try to steward what we've been given very well, and are supported by many very generous folks in the U.S. Despite that, there are still challenges even for us to make it here, and we receive far more than 2,000 Q a month in donations! I try to imagine what it would be like, though, if I was like so many women here, abandoned by husbands who have either left for the States, died, or just walked away from their families. I just don't see how they manage.

Even IF a single mama can get a job making 2,000 Q a month, and IF her kids (let's say there are 3) can attend school for free so she doesn't have to pay for childcare, and IF everyone stays healthy, she will spend 55% of her income ($150 a month) on just putting a very, very modest roof over their heads and having basic utilities. That means she's already down to less than $125 for EVERYTHING else. For the whole month. $31.00 a week. $4.43 a day.

A bag of beans, a bag of rice, a couple veggies, a dozen tortillas, and one egg per day for each member of the family will cost her $3.25 daily, or $22.75 per week, or 73% of everything she's got left after paying for shelter. (Yes, people can and do sort of survive on that diet, but it makes sense why Guatemala has the 4th highest rate of chronic childhood malnutrition in the world.) Remember, though - this doesn't include soap, toilet paper, bus fare, laundry detergent, school books and supplies, clothing, healthcare, or anything else. For allllllllllll that and more, she has to use her remaining $1.18 per day.

But here's the real kicker - that mama, statistically speaking, is almost equally likely to be happy as the average American mama. The U.N. surveys 155 countries and creates a comprehensive raw happiness score which combines many different factors. The 2017 report rated U.S. as the 14th happiest country, and Guatemala as the 29th, but there was only a difference of 0.539 in the overall scores. Guatemalans had higher happiness scores than France, Spain, Italy, and Japan, among 120 others, despite having FAR lower GDP, life expectancy, fiscal mobility, etc.
So - here's my take away message for today - 

1.) Be happy with what you have. You can do it. Honest. You probably have more than you realize.
2.) See #1

That's it.

Brain Dump

Hey. Life is busy. Time is precious. Thoughts still happen. Here are some of mine recently:

• Our early missionary photos were mostly us taking smiling selfies with whatever / whomever on whichever mission project we were doing. Lately I've noticed that we just don't seem to be in the picture that often any more. I really haven't worked out a commentary on it, except that I found the presence of the 'smiling missionary self' vaguely troubling when I saw it recently in pictures taken by a short-term mission team. Is that rumbling feeling of unease justified? Have I just become too sensitive or jaded? How much of ourselves should we be inserting in the midst of what we do, and how we present our work on the mission field? Hmmm.... 

•  I'm so grateful for technology. I have heard stories of missionaries who had to pay hundreds of dollars for a 10 minute phone call to loved ones. I can use email, Skype, Viber, WhatsApp, Facebook, Messenger, Google, or a myriad of other options to communicate and even have real-time video chats with my friends and family. It truly is astonishing, and I don't ever want to forget it!

• I, personally, am in a season of contemplation and transition. That's hard for me. I don't like it. I'm most comfortable when I am throwing all of my emotional, social, intellectual, and physical energy at a project I believe in. When God asks me to withdraw all of that and sit.rest.listen.pray.heal.wait. - ugh. It's not my favorite. But, I know He's got plans for me that are better than what I could come up with for myself. So, I'm sitting. Resting. Listening. Praying. Healing. Waiting. It feels, in a strange way, like both self indulgence and self discipline or self denial at the same time. Maybe that's the point - to let Him strengthen and renew my true self, and discipline or deny the things I think to be true about me, but which are really distractions that I've allowed myself to carry but were never meant for me.

• We had a job offer (of sorts) in the States last month. It made us really, really dig deep and consider what we want (people to know Jesus!), how we're doing here (mostly well, with some sort of hard stuff mixed in), and what we want to do with our lives (something that matters for the Kingdom!). On the mission field, there is ALWAYS the nagging question and possibility of, "When are we going to go back?" I still don't know the answer to that (maybe next year, maybe never), but I can say we've at least looked that giant square in the face one more time and felt the odd comfort of knowing the answer is, "Not right now. This is where where we're supposed to be."

•  We're coming up on the end of our 3rd year here. (Wow!). One thing we've learned is that year 3 is very different from year 2. Most mission organizations characterize a person as 'short term' if they are on the field for 2 years or less. At first, this didn't seem right or fair to us. I get it now. There really is a significant difference between year 2 and year 3 in your effectiveness, your connection with the culture, your commitment to and understanding of missions generally and your calling specifically, and your emotional and social comfort on the field. I don't know if that's always true, but it certainly seemed to be a sentiment echoed by many 'old timers' around here. 

• If you're a missionary parent (especially a missionary mama) please here this: investing in your kids is valuable. Investing in your kids is important. Investing in your kids is the right thing to do. Yes, it seems logical, I know. But, trust me - it's hard to walk out. I feel guilty for taking more time for my kids because it means less time for "ministry" work. I'm telling you, but I'm also giving myself a much-needed reminder - your family, regardless of where you live - is your primary ministry in life. 

• So, we're doing furlough in a month. This year we're doing it differently, and not going as a whole family, and not going to make it a six-week, 10,000 mile marathon, and not going to feel like we have to connect with every person / church / relationship / place.  It's still going to be long and busy, but hopefully less challenging than furloughs in the past. The folks we don't get to see this year, we'll try to see next year. Or maybe they can come see us here!