Beyond "Ashes and Indians" (Part Five {Part Last})...wrapping it up

Although you can't see it in the picture, there is a crack that runs down one wall, across the floor, and up the opposite wall of the church, from the big earthquake in April.  But that was only the physical church, and didn't dampen anyone's spirit.
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You've read about our precious time with the Tsáchila in Cóngoma in the last four posts.  After my talk, my brother Paul's letter and my sister Carol's slide show, my husband Germán closed the program with a prayer.  Although he himself didn't grow up around the People, he's been married to me for almost 43 years, so something has rubbed off on him!  As usual, he provided moral support for me...a great help!

After we finished, once the banana bread had been devoured (see prior post, if necessary) and everything was being gathered up, we went around the room saying goodbye to people individually.  My friend Carán took my face between her two hands, looked straight into my eyes, and told me I HAD to return. I would, I told her.  I will.  (If you don't remember who she is,  see Ashes and Indians, part 3.)
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Returning. Yes, I'll return to this unique part of the core of my childhood.  For almost 60 years, I've carried a little piece of Cóngoma (and all it meant and means) inside me.  Lately I've pulled some of that out of its cozy nesting place, to again see and hear people and things that connect us to each other.

One day we, along with Tsachi believers,  will be "returning"...to the Beginning.  We started out in innocence, not having had a chance to sin yet.  When we finally reach Heaven, we will once again be guilt-free and have no desire to sin. We'll be happier than we can ever imagine now! Like this:

"The ransomed of the Lord will return.  They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away."  (Isaiah 51:11)
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We're assured that the Tsachi Christians will, indeed, be part of the great assembly mentioned in Revelation 7:9:

"After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb."


                        Until then...I'll still carry a little piece of Cóngoma in my heart.
                                           

Beyond "Ashes and Indians", (Part IV)...never forgotten

Many years ago, Dad used to tell the Tsáchila Bible stories using a little battery-run projector, with reels of pictures that he turned one-by-one.

Now it was all electronic. In the picture, Carol is over on the left, standing beside the equipment, awaiting her turn.  (It seems none of us took a picture during the actual show, so this is the best I can do!  By the way, the church wasn't empty; the people there are just as adept at avoiding the front rows as anyone else!)

The lights were turned off, and as the pictures were projected onto the front wall, the people were "all eyes"...and quite a bit of voice! How young everyone seemed!...Look - there's So-and-So!...

Carol had compiled the photos (found among Dad's papers) chosing the ones she thought would be of most interest to them.  She had also written simple (but creative) background captions, giving the picture series a chronology, flowing along a timeline, as it were.  At the end, she told the Tsáchila that she was leaving them the flash drive with the presentation, and also the photographs themselves.
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Remembering the past...emotions re-evoked...joy of memories, but also a twinge of sadness that those times are no more...(or relief that other things are no more!).  Those feelings are pretty much universal, right? With their memories, they permeate every aspect of our lives and loves.  God made us that way, and that way fits right into its place in our spirit.  Memories can affect us in many ways...at times depressing us...enslaving us...or causing us to reflect...or lifting our spirits...or bringing us closer to the One who gives us Life and Love.

"Remember the wonders He has done, his miracles, and the judgments He pronounced."  (I Chronicles 16:12)

And isn't this AWESOME?   "He remembers his covenant forever, the word He commanded, for a thousand generations."  (I Chronicles 16:15)

And He said, "Even if mothers were to forget, I could never forget you!"  (Isaiah 49:15)
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If He never forgets or abandons us, let us never forget Him...let us never shove Him to one side...let us strive to never let anything or anyone else be more important to us.

 Let us all, along with our Tsáchi brothers and sisters, say:

                   "Yes, Lord, walking in the ways of your laws, we wait for You; 
                     your name and renown are the desire of our hearts." (Isaiah 26:8)
                                                 
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(The final Part will be posted soon!)

Beyond "Ashes and Indians" (Part III) ..."Pig-food" Bread and other changes

When our family first moved to Cóngoma almost 60 years ago, the Tsáchila gave us free run of their large banana patches.  Plantains were their chief food staple.  They thought it odd that we liked the eating-bananas.  After all, they only used them to feed the pigs!

It didn't take too long for them to accept a change...thanks to Mom's Banana Bread!  When preparing for this trip, I baked a bunch of this specialty to share with them, for "old times' sake"..  I thought I had made more than enough, but even the crumbs disappeared.  This was at the end of the service (see picture).

There I go, starting at the end again!  Sorry...back to where I left off last time.
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During the service,  I read them a letter from my brother Paul.  He spoke of changes that had been happening over the years.  For example, many of them have cell phones now,  ride in cars, and make their houses out of cement blocks instead of wood from the jungle.  He told of a Tsachi to whom Mom had served tuna, who told her that he didn't know how to eat that food....but now they all use canned tuna.

They had weathered changes, made adaptations, and come out on top, often by uniting and supporting each other.  Paul urged them to continue with this same attitude in facing future changes, and wished them God's deepest blessings as they go on.
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I thought of another change.  Almost 60 years ago, the witch-doctor who led the area where we lived was adamant that no Tsáchila were to learn to read, because then they would become like the "white man" (not a positive thing, to them).  Over time, he understood that reading could only help them.  They could avoid being misled by the white man, who would take advantage of the fact that they couldn't read title deeds or contracts, etc., and end up cheating them.  (Later, reading God's Word would be essential.)

I mentioned to them that Mom and Dad always hoped the Tsáchila would keep their native dress, and, even more importantly, their native language.  They mustn't lose this integral part of their unique identity.  It would be tragic to find over time that no one spoke Tsáfiqui (the true language) anymore.
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Changes are inevitable.  For us...for them.  Some people want nothing to change.  Like the Sanhedrin who bribed false witnesses to accuse Stephen:  "For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy the Temple and change the customs Moses handed down to us."  (Acts 6:14)  For some, the thought of change brings fear and uncertainty.  We can't always control what we aren't familiar with.  Or maybe it would make us take too close a look at things in us we'd rather not address.

The one Great Change that no human being can afford to disregard is that of the inner man...the soul...the spirit:  from lost sinner to saved sinner.  A change only made possible by the Grace of God.  He can help us meet all other changes, and know which ones are profitable, and which ones are not.

God is the only reliable standard by which changes (and anything else) can be measured.  And it is reliable because He never changes!

                              Malachi 3:6:  "For I am the Lord, I change not."    Awesome!
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(Check in soon for the next part.)

Beyond "Ashes and Indians" (Part II)...I almost didn't...

I don't know why we even tried to be on time with the People.  They don't let Time order them around! We quickly decided to just "go with the flow" and let them arrange the agenda.

So we spent the couple of hours before the event talking with the pastor (Primitivo),  He updated us and we talked and had a great time!
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This picture is from the end of my part in the program. (Don't worry, I'll come back to the beginning!)  I asked Primitivo to read a Bible passage in their language.  I had chosen it because of what it meant to me as we prepared for this new adventure.

Just before we left Quito on Saturday, these verses jumped out at me and gave me hope.

"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!  Amen.  (Ephesians 3:20,21)

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I tried to see who I could recognize, and one quite elderly lady caught my eye.  Who was she?  I figured I could ask later.

When our part of the evening came, I started out explaining pretty much what I wrote in the first post of this series.  (Please scroll down to it, if you haven't read it.)  They are loved and remembered.  I told a couple of stories...then started one which I hadn't been sure I should include.  I almost didn't.  I thought they might remember this particular Tsachi, but maybe sort of remotely.  (Not that I can remember all their family-ramifications!)  His name was Kostó (kosh-TO; the "o's" both rhyme with the one in "old").

My husband and I lived in Australia when I had the dream. There was a huge upright cross on a lawn, and a magazine's staff wanted to take a picture of it with representatives of a variety of ethnicities.  Kostó placed himself right beside the cross.  The staff moved him to another position.  He returned to the side of the cross.  They moved him again, but he kept insisting that he belonged next to the Cross!

I wrote my parents about the dream, and...guess what!  Right at that time, they had been wondering whether or not Kostó was truly a believer. My dream confirmed for my parents that Kostó had, indeed, decided to follow Christ.
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As we were getting ready to leave that evening, my sister gave me surprising - but encouraging -  news:  Primitivo told her that the elderly lady I had been wondering about was actually Kostó's widow! Not only that, but  Primitivo's wife was Kostó's daughter! So several people there were directly related to him...and I had wondered if the story would be of interest! I pray that it will have a special meaning for them, and add a smile to their hearts.
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In the next post I'll tell you more about the rest of the program, and the time we had with these dear people...moving and special for us...and for them.

                           I'd like you to see how the verse in Ephesians proved true :
                              He did much more than we could ask or imagine!


                      

Beyond "Ashes and Indians" (Part 1)... that wasn't the end!

When we left last summer, they said, "Don't forget us!  Come back and visit us!"

I chronicled* our journey to the indigenous people with whom we grew up, and with whom our parents worked for so long...to bury Mom's and Dad's ashes in their tribal cemetery.  (Here, we posed with the pastor and his wife.)
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Remembering their words, my husband and I, along with my sister who is here visiting, are going to do just that.  On Sunday we will be with them at the church for a couple of hours in the afternoon, and then join them for their church service.

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So...what will we do?  The older people remember. They lived our parents' presence, dedication and love. The younger ones know them only from their tribal "history", only what they have heard. We can help them know Bruce and Joyce a little more, sharing pictures, stories, memories... Stories of how the God Who loved them sent someone to their tribe to give them His Word...and live for them His Love...should never disappear from their lore.  I want them to remember how important they were...and still are.

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You see...the gifting was not one-way only.  They also gave to us.  Mom and Dad valued the friendships made with these kind, generous people...together they loved, worked, cried, laughed, prayed...

Years later, Mom told me that there had been times in the tribe when she had little to feed us four kids.  But every time this happened, one of the Tsáchila would stop by with a gift of freshly-caught fish, a haunch of wild game, smoked meat, etc...

In my series last summer, I told of the time when, as a child, I saw what I thought was a turtle near the river and started reaching out to touch it.  Just in time, several little indigenous boys appeared and yelled at me that it was a snake!  Once again, God had used them to help us.

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Psalm 78 speaks beautifully of what I would love to believe will always be true of this special group of people, especially our fellow-believers.

"...we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord...statutes...the law...so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn will tell their children..."

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                             We have not forgotten the Tsáchila...but better yet,
                                      neither has God...and He never will!
                                     Father, may they always remember this.
                                         May they always remember You!
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*to read last summer's posts: Ashes and Indians, Part I

I like MY superman a lot better!

First off, let me make it clear that my ultimate defender and Protector is God.  There's no doubt about it.  He tells me this in one of my favorite passages:

"'Because he loves Me', says the Lord, 'I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my Name.  He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.'"  (Psalm 91:14,15)

However, God often works through others to love us, rescue us, protect us and be with us in trouble.

As most of you know, my health is not very good, and I am limited in many areas.

One of the ways that God defends and protects me is through the care my husband gives me.  Germán knows my limitations, and I think he lives these verses:

"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."  (Galatians 6:2)

"Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives..."  (I Peter 3:7)

"And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased."  (Hebrews 13:16)

I'm sure that there are times when what Germán does for me IS a sacrifice!  But he keeps right on helping me around the house; driving me to go shopping; bringing me tea and toast when I feel too bad in the morning to get up right away; staying home sometimes when he thinks I might need him,even if he'd planned on going out; defending me; taking me for our weekly walk in the woods even when he doesn't feel very well...etc., etc.  It can't be easy for him to consistently look after my well-being.  But he doesn't complain.
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The psalmist said:

"Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in You."  (5:11)

"May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you."  (20:1)

I want to publicly thank God, my Defender and Protector, for the husband He put into my life, through whom He can spread his protection over me, and through whom He can tend to me in my distress.

                                              And thank you, Germán!  I love you.
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A Silly Poem...laughing as a couple

I can't remember what got into me when I wrote this poem, it was so long ago! I do recall that about that time, one bone of contention cited in couples was that one of them squeezed the toothpaste tube in the middle...which drove the one who squeezed it at the bottom end  crazy! ("Everybody" knows the tube should be squeezed from the bottom end, right?)
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                                          I was asked why so seldom
                                          my husband and I are
                                          seen to fight.
                                          Does it seem such a riddle?
                                          "Our toothpaste's the reason,
                                          I'm sure", I replied.
                                          "See, we both squeeze the tube
                                          in the middle!"                                 
                                                   **************                      -Becky Rhon

I never gave it a title. (Never thought it would need one!) You know, I think I wrote this before I was married, so maybe the poem should be "attributed" to Becky Moore.  (Unless the poem would prefer not to be!)
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My husband and I use separate toothpaste tubes and we both squeeze them at the end. We have had differences relating to many other issues, some laughed-off, some taking their toll, but one thing I learned early on.  Marriage is greatly helped along by laughter!  (Note: laughing with each other, not at each other.) Besides just having fun together, humor can diffuse tense situations.

Germán and I find something to laugh at every day.  Actually, it might be  just as appropriate to say that laughter finds us!  And when it does...we welcome it.  When I think of something funny when my husband isn't around, I'll tuck it away in my mind to bring out when he needs a laugh to lift his spirits.  (Not that I can always find it easily...but eventually it'll show up!)
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"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person's strength."  (Proverbs 17:22)  Since both my husband and I battle health problems, we can testify to the truth of this!

We have  lived through tough times, rewarding times, great occasions, hilarious moments, dramatic "adventures", desert-dry periods...but after 42 1/2 years of marriage,  I think of Psalm 126:2-3:

"Then our mouths were filled with laughter and our tongues with joyful songs.  Then the nations said, "The LORD has done spectacular things for us.  We are overjoyed."
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Friend, if you are struggling, and laughter is lacking from your life, I pray Job 8:21 for you:

"He {God} will once again fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy."

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                                      Father, You invented laughter.  Thank You!