Christmas in Ecuador

The tradition here is to give bags of biscuits and sweets to the children.  Villages organise events and ask members of the local community to donate the bags of sweets.  These are then given out to the children, much to their delight. 

We raised funds to give brightly coloured draw-string bags to the local school children this year.  In each one we put an activity book for them to colour.  We travelled to all 7 of the local schools to give the bags to the 300 children.  All of the schools are at the end of unmade roads.  One was beyond a bridge that was broken, so we had to finish the trip on foot in the mud.  The children were absolutely delighted with the beautiful gifts and are making good use of them. 

The sponsored children gathered for their gifts on the 23rd December.  They were over the moon with the pretty Barbies, lovely lego and swish T-shirts their bags contained.  These are the only gifts these children receive this Christmas, so they are very special to them.

Families that can afford it gather together on the night of the 24th December to have a meal together and exchange gifts.  Vladimir´s family came to our house on the 24th for an evening meal and to give their granddaughters their dolls. 

The 25th is a bank holiday here, and many people will head in to town to buy gifts on Christmas day itself.

The 26th people are back at work... now waiting for the New Year celebrations to begin. 

Life and Death

A short while ago I was asked to visit a man in his 60s dying of cancer.  He had been successfully treated for his disease some 8 years ago, but in the past few weeks the disease had reared its ugly head with force and his final decline had been rapid. 

Just a few weeks before Don Juan had been to the health centre his usual gentle self, still full of life and love for his 8 daughters.  Now he was prostrate in bed, struggling to breathe.  His wife hovered by his side, and his daughters were attentive to his every need.

As we fixed up the oxygen concentrator to ease his suffering, I knew he did  not have much time left in this world.  I knew his daughters well.  The twenty year old who had recently graduated from Secondary school through the sewing project and now with a baby boy of her own.  The mother of two cute little boys who always came to the health centre when under the weather.  The granddaughter who had also graduated from Secondary school recently through the sewing project who was training to be a police woman.  They all spoke of him as an excellent father.

"I can only say he has been a gentle, good father."  One of them confided.  "He always did all he could to help us.  We are going to miss him terribly."

Witnessing death always make me stop and wonder and worship.  It makes me pause and reflect on time gone and yet to come.

And then the whirl of  life continues; my little girls who want to paint and jump on a trampoline, and Don Juan´s youngest daughter who wanted to be able to continue to go to school. 

When I told 14 year old Lorena I had a sponsor who would help her continue to go to school her grief etched face broke into a beautiful smile.  "You are an angel."  She exclaimed.  Hope began to fill the future with happiness once more. 

God´s Provision

When I decided to become a missionary doctor I did so knowing that it would mean a very different financial situation to that of being a GP in the UK.  I did so willingly, and in exchange for a fascinating walk of faith.

When I was a single doctor working in Scotland I could afford whatever I wanted within reason.  If I fancied a book or clothes I bought them, if I wanted to visit friends I hopped on a plane, if I wanted to go on a foreign holiday I booked the tour.

Becoming a missionary first changed my view of the “essentials” and the “luxuries” in life.  It made me question what I had a right to “expect” to be able to afford and what I was willing to sacrifice. 

But it also made me aware of God´s perfect timing.   Sometimes it was a patient bringing me a chicken as a thank you when I did not have any meat left in the fridge for the next meal.  Once it was a cheque for one thousand pounds arriving when I needed a car to be able to carry out my work.  Once it was a flurry of new supporters when we did not have enough to live off on a monthly basis.  The support we needed came in without me saying a word to anyone except our Father who knows all our needs.  These instances of God’s perfect timing stand out as pearls of His love for me, affirming it is not time to go home. 

And sometimes, just occasionally, there are those gifts that arrive that are pure acts of generosity, over and above what I would ever feel I have the “right” to even ask for.  I am reminded I am in such a privileged position compared to so many in this world and blown away by the extraordinary graciousness of my Heavenly Father.  I am so thankful for the blessings I receive each and every day and the privileges I enjoy. 

May I be a blessing daily to others too and never forget to say “thank you”. 

A word of encouragement

It is a season of visitors at the moment, and what a blessing it is to have folk come our way and take an interest in the work. 

I recently had the doctor who trained me as a GP come to visit, with his wife who is a nurse.  They sat in on a couple of my sessions at the health centre.  It is always a little scary to have people observing.  I wonder what they are going to make of some of the horrendous leg wounds I am treating.  I certainly would not be doing it in the UK.  There are legs I cannot save.  But the success stories keep me attempting what seems even to me impossible at times. 

I need not have worried about the visitors observing.  What an encouragement they were!  They were full of praise for the work we are doing and the nursing skills of the health promoter doing the dressings.  They made helpful suggestions.  They spoke highly of our work to others.  They spread joy and enthusiasm wherever they went and touched people with their kindness despite their lack of Spanish. 

I am so often too slow to speak up and say those words of encouragement, that “well done” or that “keep going.”  When others take the trouble to say those words to me it spurs me on and builds me up.  Let´s all make opportunities to be encouragers. 

Sometimes I am glad I make mistakes

Sometimes I am glad that I make mistakes.  I am glad that I misread a 1 as a 7.  Let me tell you the whole story.

Just over a month ago we sold our small car because it kept on breaking down.  Vladimir hunted for a replacement and found a seemingly suitable car being sold by a second hand car salesman.  We were delighted.  We checked the car was not registered as stolen, had it looked over by a mechanic and decided to go ahead with the purchase.  The salesman gave me his bank details hand written on a little scrap of paper.  I duly did the bank transfer from my account to his in our local bank.  Vladimir signed the contract and we drove off in the car. 

A couple of days later I had a phone call from the bank saying the transfer had not gone through as I had made a mistake in the bank account number of the car salesman.  I had mistaken his 1 for a 7.  The salesman began frantically hassling us to redo the payment, but I had to wait 5 days for the money to be returned to my account first. 

During these five days Vladimir had a problem on trying to register the transfer of ownership of the car.  He discovered the car had already been sold to someone else!  The salesman was creating duplicate documents for the car presumably to register another, stolen car.  

We returned the car and were very thankful we had the money still safely in my account.  If this had not been the case the result would have been some long drawn out court proceedings!

So I am glad I mistook a 1 for a 7.  I am thankful to God we had a narrow escape.  He is gracious. 

The Day of the Dead

It was the 2^nd of November, and Tamarita Rachel was up at the crack of dawn bouncing around her grandparents´ house.  “Wake up!  Wake up!” She cried as she poked her head in bedroom doors.  “It is the Day of the Dead.” 

Little sister Emily rubbed her sleepy eyes and sat up in bed.  “Guaguas de pan,” she murmured with a cheeky grin on her face.  “I want some bread dollies.” 

Tamarita Rachel had been waiting for this day for a very long time.  She remembered last year, licking her lips at the memory.  She knew that on this day everyone ate deliciously sweet, sticky bread dolls and drank colada morada; a purple, spicy drink. 

At last everyone was ready.  Abuela (grandmother), Abuelo (grandfather), Tia (Auntie), Papi and all the cousins set off to the local graveyard.  Tamarita Rachel hopped and skipped with excitement.  It was fun to meet up with all her little cousins and play while the adults painted the grave stones and set out flower arrangements.  They would sit and chat and reminisce while the children laughed and joked and make-believed. 

Tamarita Rachel liked the graveyard on this special day of the year.  The entrance was lined with stalls of beautiful flowers.  All the neighbours were together greeting each other cheerfully.  The smell of banana pasties, barbequed corn-on-the-cob and tripe filled the air. 

And then came the best part of all.  Out came the colada morada.  Cups of the tasty sweet fruit drink were passed amongst the family so that everyone could share some.  Next Abuelo gave a bread roll shaped as a doll to each of the children.  Tamarita Rachel and little sister Emily exchanged a delighted grin as they licked the sweet, sweet icing off the top of their dolls.  Scrumptious.  It had definitely been worth the wait.  

You can read more of Tamarita´s adventures in The Adventures of Tamarita Rachel available on Amazon now!