Greetings to everyone! My father is a train fan and has been working on his model railroad. I think you will enjoy a glimpse into his world... Shalom E
Hello everyone! Here is a video with the Pinnacle Line Dancers. I have been dancing with them off and on this year. My mother is a regular in the group. Hope you enjoy the Christmas presentation!
DURHAM, N.C. — It is familiar, the outrage and alarm that many Americans are feeling at reports that Russia, according to a secret intelligence assessment, interfered in the United States election to help Donald J. Trump become president.
I have been through this before, overwhelmed by a similar outrage and alarm.
To be specific: On the morning of Oct. 22, 1970, in what was then my home in Santiago de Chile, my wife, Angélica, and I listened to a news flash on the radio. Gen. René Schneider, the head of Chile’s armed forces, had been shot by a commando on a street of the capital. He was not expected to survive.
Angélica and I had the same automatic reaction: It’s the C.I.A., we said, almost in unison. We had no proof at the time — though evidence that we were right would eventually, and abundantly, surface — but we did not doubt that this was one more American attempt to subvert the will of the Chilean people.
Six weeks earlier, Salvador Allende, a democratic Socialist, had won the presidency in a free and fair election, in spite of the United States’ spending millions of dollars on psychological warfare and misinformation to prevent his victory (we’d call it “fake news” today). Allende had campaigned on a program of social and economic justice, and we knew that the government of President Richard M. Nixon, allied with Chile’s oligarchs, would do everything it could to stop Allende’s nonviolent revolution from gaining power.
The country was rife with rumors of a possible coup. It had happened in Guatemala and Iran, in Indonesia and Brazil, where leaders opposed to United States interests had been ousted; now it was Chile’s turn. That was why General Schneider was assassinated. Because, having sworn loyalty to the Constitution, he stubbornly stood in the way of those destabilization plans.
President-elect Salvador Allende, of Chile, arriving to pay respects to Gen. René Schneider, who was lying in state, killed by a commando.Robert Quiroga/Associated Press
General Schneider’s death did not block Allende’s inauguration, but American intelligence services, at the behest of Henry A. Kissinger, continued to assail our sovereignty during the next three years, sabotaging our prosperity (“make the economy scream,” Nixon ordered) and fostering military unrest. Finally, on Sept. 11, 1973, Allende was overthrown and replaced by a vicious dictatorship that lasted nearly 17 years. Years of torture and executions and disappearances and exile.
Given all that pain, one might presume that some glee on my part would be justified at the sight of Americans squirming in indignation at the spectacle of their democracy subjected to foreign interference — as Chile’s democracy, among many others’, was by America. And yes, it is ironic that the C.I.A. — the very agency that gave not a whit for the independence of other nations — is now crying foul because its tactics have been imitated by a powerful international rival.
I can savor the irony, but I feel no glee. This is not only because, as an American citizen myself now, I am once again a victim of this sort of nefarious meddling. My dismay goes deeper than that personal sense of vulnerability. This is a collective disaster: Those who vote in the United States should not have to suffer what those of us who voted in Chile had to go through. Nothing warrants that citizens anywhere should have their destiny manipulated by forces outside the land they inhabit.
The seriousness of this violation of the people’s will must not be flippantly underestimated or disparaged.
When Mr. Trump denies, as do his acolytes, the claims by the intelligence community that the election was, in fact, rigged in his favor by a foreign power, he is bizarrely echoing the very responses that so many Chileans got in the early ’70s when we accused the C.I.A. of illegal interventions in our internal affairs. He is using now the same terms of scorn we heard back then: Those allegations, he says, are “ridiculous” and mere “conspiracy theory,” because it is “impossible to know” who was behind it.
In Chile, we did find out who was “behind it.” Thanks to the Church Committee and its valiant, bipartisan 1976 report, the world discovered the many crimes the C.I.A. had been committing, the multiple ways in which it had destroyed democracy elsewhere — in order, supposedly, to save the world from Communism.
This country deserves, as all countries do — including Russia, of course — the possibility of choosing its leaders without someone in a remote room abroad determining the outcome of that election. This principle of peaceful coexistence and respect is the bedrock of freedom and self-determination, a principle that, yet again, has been compromised — this time, with the United States as its victim.
What to do, then, to restore faith in the democratic process?
First, there should be an independent, transparent and thorough public investigation so that any collusion between American citizens and foreigners bent on mischief can be exposed and punished, no matter how powerful these operatives may be. The president-elect should be demanding such an inquiry, rather than mocking its grounds. The legitimacy of his rule, already damaged by his significant loss of the popular vote, depends on it.
But there is another mission, a loftier one, that the American people, not politicians or intelligence agents, must carry out. The implications of this deplorable affair should lead to an incessant and unforgiving meditation on our shared country, its values, its beliefs, its history.
The United States cannot in good faith decry what has been done to its decent citizens until it is ready to face what it did so often to the equally decent citizens of other nations. And it must firmly resolve never to engage in such imperious activities again.
If ever there was a time for America to look at itself in the mirror, if ever there was a time of reckoning and accountability, it is now.
This is from "Center for Action and Contemplation" <Meditations@cac.org and expresses my prayer and desire for these times.
Faith is not simply seeing things at their visible, surface level, but recognizing their deepest meaning. To be a person of faith means you see things—people, animals, plants, the earth—as inherently connected to God, connected to you, and therefore, most worthy of love and dignity.That’s what Jesus is praying for: that you could see things in their unity, in their connectedness.
I will go so far as to say that the more you can connect, the more of a saint you are. The less you can connect, the less transformed you are. If you can’t connect with people of other religions, classes, or races, with your “enemies” or with those who are suffering, with people who are disabled, with LGBTQ folks, or with anyone who is not like you—well, to put it very bluntly, you’re not very converted. You’re still in the kindergarten of faith. We have a lot of Christians who are still in kindergarten, walking around the world with their old politics and economics. They have not allowed the Risen Christ to fully transform their lives. Truly transformed individuals are capable of a universal recognition. They see that everything is one.
Gateway to Silence:
We are already in union with God.
On my first morning in the bunk room
at the Institute for Intercultural Study and Research (INESIN), the organization I will be working with in the city San
Cristobal de las Casas, state of Chiapas, México, a familiar buzzing sound
greets me on my way to the bathroom. I
veer off course, hunting through the flowers, my eyes flicking back and forth
as I know I will only catch a glimpse of the sound-maker. It is there and then in an instant,
gone. The sound disappears. A hummingbird has welcomed me to the city and
to this new life.
As I seek to get my bearings in a
maze of narrow streets with sidewalks so thin that they disappear at intervals
where the lamp posts sprout, I wonder and wander: new sounds of Mayan people
chattering in tseltal or tzotzil, comforting childhood smells of
"tortillerías" (shops where corn tortillas are made), sights of tiled roofs superimposed on
memories of similar roofs in rural Paraguay or Chile. One moment I feel right at home; the next I
speculate that I must have arrived on a different planet.
On Sunday I attend a tiny church on
the edges of another tourist town, Chiapa de Corzo, which was founded in 1400
before Christ. It was a center of
commerce for the Olmec and Mayan people, two of the oldest known pre-Hispanic
civilizations. Today the town is best
known for a January festival with both pre-Hispanic and Colonial roots where
male dancers wear white masks and fuzzy yellow mushroom like hats, and there is
music, food, and crafts. The women wear
dresses made from black netting and elaborate embroidery. In the midst of the flood of new information
as I walk through the town, I am again comforted by the familiar. I know every song in the worship service by
heart; we sing to the tune of a guitar as we would in a small semi-rural church
in Chile.
Monday morning, the administrator at
INESIN, takes me to visit a house he has scouted out for me to consider as I
hunt for living quarters. I don´t like
the house. It is dark and has empty lots
on three sides. "Patience,"
says Brother Natanael. "We have plenty of time and many options to look
at." On our way back to the office,
we spot a "for rent" sign on a house only a block away. We call the number and early Tuesday morning
we go look at the house. Over the wall,
in the neighbor's flowering bushes, I hear the familiar sound: Hummingbirds welcoming me home! This house has plenty of light, the kitchen, living room and dining room are all in one big downstairs space with a
bathroom off to one side, and two rooms
upstairs with another bathroom. And the
cherry on the cake is wifi and telephone already installed! Natanael has already warned me that it could
take up to three months to get telephone and wifi service. My house hunting ends after one day and
after looking at only one other house. I
know that this is God's answer to the
prayers of many! The last few days I have
been tracking down furniture and appliances, washing windows, cleaning, and
trying to make this rental house into my home.
Everyone here is talking about the
US elections. Most people have been
understanding and gentle in discussing the results while at the same time
remembering the saying that goes, "when the US sneezes, Mexico catches
pneumonia." I have already been
warned never to visit an indigenous community without a guide. US, Canadian and European mining companies
are known to be scouting out the region looking for new mineral deposits. In Mexico, according to an old Spanish law, people
own what is on the surface of the land, but if a company buys the rights, it can legally extract the minerals even if
it means ousting legal land owners or communities. Native communities are resisting the mining
companies as best they know how. Many
people in Chiapas have either traveled to seek work in the US or have family
members who have immigrated. Yesterday my cab driver stated sadly while solemnly shaking
his head, "if new policies cause more Mexicans to be mistreated in the
US, I don´t know if we will be able to
keep people from mistreating US citizens living in Mexico."
I want to thank each of you for your
prayers on my behalf in this new ministry.
After one week in San Cristobal de las Casas, I know I have a lot to
learn. I am grateful for my new
colleagues at INESIN for all the ways that they have made me feel welcome
(fresh bouquet of flowers in my room when I arrived, a set of keys to the
grounds and main rooms, and my own office space with a computer!) Please continue to pray for me as I settle
in, build relationships, and find my way
around.
As I finish this letter, I can hear
the hummingbirds even though I can´t see them on the other side of the
wall. The Guaraní people of Paraguay
believe that hummingbirds indicate the place and instant where heaven
caresses the earth. I am reminded of Psalm 85:10-13 "Love
and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other. Faithfulness springs forth from the earth,
and righteousness looks down from heaven.
The Lord will indeed give what is good, and our land will yield its
harvest. Righteousness goes before him
and prepares the way for his steps."
I pray that my new home, with
hummingbirds as neighbors, might be just such a place.
It is a good word, rolling off the tongue; no matter what language you were born with use it. Learn where it begins, the small alphabet of departure, how long it takes to think of it, then say it, then be heard. Marry it. More than any golden ring, it shines, it shines. Wear it on every finger till your hands dance, touching everything easily, letting everything, easily, go. Strap it to your back like wings. Or a kite-tail. The stream of air behind a jet. If you are known for anything, let it be the way you rise out of sight when your work is finished. Think of things that linger: leaves, cartons and napkins, the damp smell of mold. Think of things that disappear. Think of what you love best, what brings tears into your eyes. Something that said adios to you before you knew what it meant or how long it was for. Explain little, the word explains itself. Later perhaps. Lessons following lessons, like silence following sound.
If you wish to fly, seek wings.
If you wish to arrive, seek the path.
If you wish to rest, seek a chair.
If you wish to grow, seek God.
Because to seek is to live.
A few
months ago, while visiting churches in Indiana, I visited a congregation
outside Indianapolis and heard their story.
This is the
story of a church that has decided to hire a wrecking company. What for? To tear down their beautiful,
historic building.
This
congregation has a church building that is an icon in a town on the corner of
Church Street and an important alternate route into the city. The building, completed before the 1850s, has priceless stain glass windows, an imposing
bell tower, and organ that was completely refurbished just a few years
ago. The church has a large parsonage on
the same property. Like so many other
churches around the country, the congregation was getting older and smaller in
size, so they began to talk about what they should do. After many long and painful discussions, they
decided that they did not want to continue spending all of their money on
maintaining and fixing the building, which had asbestos in it, and began
studying areas of town where there were new families and opportunities for
growth. They purchased 5 acres of land
near several new subdivisions, built a general purpose hall with all the latest
energy efficient conveniences, and set up a community garden program.
Eventually they decided to no longer heat or
cool the old building and began holding all services and activities at the new
site. Families that had not been related
to the church signed up to share space in the garden and the community began to
identify the building as a place where different social and service
organizations could meet. The old
building was boarded up and the congregation decided to sell the property along
with the parsonage and use the money to continue developing the new site. The congregation agreed that they would keep
the windows, the bell and the organ to be placed in their new church when it
was built.
A major
pharmacy chain made on offer of 5 million dollars for the property. The night before the deal was to be signed,
the city council had an emergency meeting.
They proclaimed the church as a historical site and stopped the
sale. The pharmacy would not be able to
tear down the church and the deal fell apart.
A member of the church who was a retired lawyer worked very hard and
managed to have the historical site designation revoked, and the congregation
once again began to work on a deal to sell the boarded up church that they were
no longer using.
Now they
were able to work out the sale to another company but only for 1 million
dollars. Again the city moved to stop
the sale. The company backed out, and as
time has gone by, no other business wants to get involved in a deal where they
will be marked at the "bad guys" who tore down the town´s iconic
church.
The
congregation has decided to sell the windows, the bell, the organ and whatever
else they can to hire a wrecking company.
They want to be responsible to the people of the town, those who are
church goers and those who are not, for tearing
down their own building. They want to be
able to say, as Avery and Marsh wrote in their song, We are the church, "The
church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a
resting place, the church is the people."
The Ryan Lockte incident just highlights a sense of American entitlement felt by many in the world. It isn't everyone but unfortunately this has been the case too often. And, also unfortunately, this attitude started with the US government. Here is just a quick summary of the US involvement in Latin America: Mexico (1845 Mexican American war, 1911 coup plotted in the American Embassy, 1914 marines invade Veracruz), Nicaragua (1980s supporting the contra rebels), Guatemala (1954 coup d'état), Chile (1973 coup to overthrow the rightfully elected government), Brazil (1964 coup), Panama (1901 Panama rebellion against Colombia and the canal), Haiti, Puerto Rico, The Dominican Republic, Honduras, Columbia (1898-1934 the Banana Wars), El Salvador (1979 supporting the rebels through Argentina), Argentina (1976 coup), Paraguay (1954 coup and support of the dictatorship), Uruguay, (1971 coup), and Cuba (1898-present) have all had the US involved heavily in their countries. As Porfirio Díaz aptly put it when talking about his country: "Poor Mexico, so far from God and so close to the United States." I'm thankful for the US but I'm also realistic that we have not always acted well towards other countries and people. #monroedoctrine#musingsofadualcitizen
(“Dives” is the name traditionally given to the rich man in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus in the Gospel of Luke)
We do not clamour for vengeance, We do not whine for fear; We have cried in the outer darkness Where was no man to hear. We cried to man and he heard not; Yet we thought God heard us pray; But our God, who loved and was sorry - Our God is taken away.
Ours were the stream and the pasture, Forest and fen were ours; Ours were the wild wood-creatures, The wild sweet berries and flowers. You have taken our heirlooms from us, And hardly you let us save Enough of our woods for a cradle, Enough of our earth for a grave.
You took the wood and the cornland, Where still we tilled and felled; You took the mine and quarry, And all you took you held. The limbs of our weanling children You crushed in your mills of power; And you made our bearing women toil To the very bearing hour.
You have taken our clean quick longings, Our joy in lover and wife, Our hope of the sunset quiet At the evening end of life; You have taken the land that bore us, Its soil and stone and sod; You have taken our faith in each other - And now you have taken our God.
When our God came down from Heaven He came among men, a Man, Eating and drinking and working As common people can; And the common people received Him While the rich men turned away. But what have we to do with a God To whom the rich men pray?
He hangs, a dead God, on your altars, Who lived a Man among men, You have taken away our Lord And we cannot find Him again. You have not left us a handful Of even the earth He trod . . . You have made Him a rich man's idol Who came as a poor man's God.
He promised the poor His heaven, He loved and lived with the poor; He said that the rich man's shadow Should never darken His door: But bishops and priests lie softly, Drink full and are fully fed In the Name of the Lord, who had not Where to lay His head.
This is the God you have stolen, As you steal all else--in His name. You have taken the ease and the honour, Left us the toil and the shame. You have chosen the seat of Dives, We lie where Lazarus lay; But, by God, we will not yield you our God, You shall not take Him away.
All else we had you have taken; All else, but not this, not this. The God of Heaven is ours, is ours, And the poor are His, are His. Is He ours? Is He yours? Give answer! For both He cannot be. And if He is ours--O you rich men, Then whose, in God's name, are ye?
I finally finished putting together a video of the trip my Dad and I took to Alaska. There are some glitches in the video because the program didn´t want to do the transitions for some reason, and I ran out of time to work them out. But I hope you enjoy the beautiful vistas!
My vision is to be an instrument of God in the healing of relationships. I am called to listen to individuals in their confusion and anger, to mediate and counsel gruops towards growth and maturity, to bring people towards that holy relationship with God´s creation, and present to all the loving companionship of Christ. This vision motivates my calling.
"I have been in nearly all the women´s jails
in the northern part of Chile," she
told me when she caught my arm after the Roots in the Ruins: Hope in Trauma
workshop.A team of trauma healing and
resilience development facilitators from the Shalom Center had come to
Antofagasta on the coast of northern Chile to accompany the members of the
Pentecostal Church of Chile.
"I was a drug dealer," she added.
"Today you taught us that in order to be a place of healing, the church
needs to be a safe space to share each other's stories. I know this is true.
For over 20 years I was in and out of
jail. Then one day, my neighbor invited
me to this church. I came, and I discovered
God's presence in a way that I had never known before. Weeping and trembling, I told God my whole
story and felt like I did not have to hide anything for the first time in my
life. When God listened to my story, my
life began to change. I no longer dealt
in drugs, I went back to my family and
home, and I kept coming to church.
I thought that everything would be alright, but
it wasn´t. I realized that I needed to
do something about my behavior in my family.
My children and I fought constantly.
I decided one day to tell them my story.
I shared with them how my childhood had been and confessed that I knew
that theirs had been similar. I told
them stories, good and bad, that I had never revealed before. They listened. Together we decided to start working on
creating happy experiences, a little at a time each day, for all of us to
remember.
And I thought that now everything would be
alright, but it wasn´t. I began to
notice the violence, not just the shootings and the shouting, but the way of
thinking and of being in my "población," my neighborhood. I could see that I had grown up and that now
my children were enveloped by the ramifications of all the lacks that come with
poverty. As a member of the church, I
now had a point of comparison. I told my
community story to my pastors and they encouraged me to get involved in healing
my neighborhood. I did. I visit my neighbors to listen to their stories and encourage
them.
God listened to me and my spirit was healed. My children listened to me and our family was
healed. My pastors and church listened
to me, I and I am helping to heal my community.
I have discovered that daring to tell and
listen to our stories sets us on the path of healing."
Hold onto what is good,
Even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold onto what you believe,
Even if it is a tree that stands by itself.
Hold onto what you must do,
Even if it is a long way from here.
Hold onto life,
Even if it is easier to let go.
Hold onto my hand,
Even when I have gone away from you.
There
is a rock outcropping at the Shalom Center overlooking the waterfall , the tops
of the coigue trees, and the Lircay River far below. This is the end of the Shalom Trail and one
particular rock juts out in a way to make a seat for me. I have sat on this same rock for over fifteen
years.
Feelings
flit in and out of my soul like the mountain breeze and clicks of the humming
birds. One nearly flew into my nose a
moment ago; I had to close my eyes and blow hard to shoo her away! The lizards, some turquoise blue fading into
emerald green, others brown and yellow striped, share the rock with me. They are so used to me that they don´t mind when
we enjoy the same sunlight and shadows.
In
the midst of good-bye parties, parting rituals, and tears, the forest is also bidding
me farewell. Today the fox trotted down
the road in front of the Welcome House while I ate my breakfast, stopping
several times to take me in before wandering across the circle of logs and into
the berry bushes. Yesterday I spotted
the orange and black tadpoles of the "Venusto Toad," beautiful and
endangered. As the forest and I say
farewell, so I also say goodbye to twenty years of life and ministry in
Chile.
In Spanish we say "adios" to say
good-bye. It literally means "unto
God."
Unto God..to the pastors and pastoras who have
encouraged me and opened their churches for the different activities I have led
over the years.
Unto God...to
the participants and staff of the Shalom Center who have heard the call
to build the Shalom Kingdom with truth, justice, mercy, dignity and peace.
Unto God...to the people of Chile, neighbors, bus drivers,
post office workers, cashiers, and shop owners who have greeted me with a smile
and a wave.
Unto God...to the children of Chile who share with me
their play, laughter and learning.
Unto God...to the mountain ecosystem which has
intertwined its essence in my being.
Unto God... to each of you. I carry you in my heart as precious treasures
to cherish and share with others in faraway places.
I ask for your prayers
as I discern the next steps in my life. During the next six months I will be visiting
churches in the United States and preparing for a new assignment. Please pray that God might prepare the path
before my feet.
A
missionary's job is to work herself out of a job. That means that farewells are an inherent and
anticipated part of the ministry. These good-byes are particularly painful when
balanced with the other half of a missionary´s job: integration and complete
participation in the host culture with a commitment to deep, transformative relationships.
I have worked hard to form the good-byes from Chile into experiences of learning and growing for those around me as
well as myself. As C.S. Lewis say in the movie
"Shadowlands" "The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal." So also these farewells open doorways to fresh
hopes, dreams and possibilities. Fare
thee well, my friends!
I remind you that the
the Roots in the Ruins: Hope in Trauma activities and other news will be posted
on the new "Fanpage" on "Facebook". It
is called "Retoños en las ruinas: esperanza en el trauma." You can also follow me, in
English, on my blog "From the ends
of the earth." http://colibrienchile.blogspot.cl/
Thanks for your prayers
and for being a part of my ministry, always!
¡Look what I found this week at the Shalom Center!
Very little is known about the Chile Mountains false toad – only a few individuals have ever been seen, and it avoided detection for 100 years following its formal discovery in 1899. It is thought to breed in streams that run through temperate beech forests, where the eggs hatch into tadpoles that develop by feeding on algae growing on rocks. The main threats to this species in the wild are forest fires, pine and eucalyptus plantations, and its limited distribution. The Chile Mountains false toad is listed as Endangered in the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species because its area of occupancy is less than 500 km sq., its distribution is severely fragmented, and there is continuing decline in the extent and quality of its habitat on the western slopes of the Chilean Andes.
The false toads are a tiny and little-known genus, all members of which are endangered (Telmatobufo bullocki is Critically Endangered, Telmatobufo venustusisis Endangered, and Telmatobufo australis is Vulnerable). Their closest relative, the Vulnerable helmeted water toad, is a giant among amphibians, with females reaching lengths of over 300 mm. It feeds predominantly on other frogs and toads, although it is also capable of consuming small birds and mammals. Its huge tadpoles can grow to lengths of 15 cm and take about two years to metamorphose. The Calyptocephalellidae family is therefore a highly evolutionarily distinct, unusual and endangered group of amphibians.
Description
Chile Mountains false toad is a moderate sized frog, growing to lengths of around 70 mm. The body is robust with long, slender limbs. The nostrils are on the sides of the snout and protrude. The eyes are large and protruding. There is no visible ear drum. The paratoid glands behind the eyes either side of the head appear as very prominent, large raised bumps that are oval in shape. The feet are webbed, whereas the digits of the had are free of webbing. The skin of the back has numerous prominent oval and round glands, whilst the skin of the stomach is smooth. This species has a beautiful colouration, with a coal-black background, an orange striped pattern across the back, and yellow spots along the sides. The ventral (or lower) surface is also a bright coal-black. Orange and reddish spots and markings appear across the head.
Ecology
The Chile Mountains false toad is a very poorly known species. After its formal discovery in 1899, it was not seen again for 100 years! Its reproductive behaviour has not been observed, although it probably breeds in streams where its eggs hatch into tadpoles that develop by scraping algae from rock, as is the case for its close relative (also a top 100 EDGE Amphibian) Bullock’s false toad. It probably has a similar diet to this species also, feeding on ground-dwelling invertebrates. This species requires further study to elucidate its life history and behaviours.
Habitat
It occurs under rocks along streams in temperate Nothofagus (southern beech) forest, and its tolerance to disturbance is unknown.
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