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| So here I am in arid El Alto, without a decent chance of growing much green without committing to a large chunk of time and back-breaking effort. Don't have much time these days, and usually too wiped after a day at the center for the effort.
But I've decided that this year, while I'm attempting to be the best Acting Director I can be (yes, it does sound like the marines, I know), my plan is to not to just survive. I want to thrive.
And thriving probably means doing something every week that gives me life. Not on the computer. So if I can't garden yet, what is there?
My first idea was to take pottery classes. My dear brother Mark and the Highlands Ability Battery tell me this is my ideal hobby. Unfortunately, after a morning of desperate searching, the results were grim. Currently, only the art college offers pottery, and it definitely doesn't fit my schedule.
Then, it was the new Gospel Choir that is gaining renown in the Bolivia Christian circle. But it was a huge time commitment, again.
And just as my year of thriving was about to fade into the dusty sunset, I thought, "Slow cooker!" This is my new favorite toy. I absolutely adore running out of the house in the morning after tossing junk in a pot, and stumbling into the door nine hours later to a steaming Tamale pie, or African Peanut Stew, or Veggie Lasagna, or Jalapeno Corn Pudding.
So this year, while I can't actually grow things, my hobby will be cooking--practicing with the food I want to grow, so when I can grow it, I will already have a thousand and two ready recipes. Yes, it's probably partly inspired by "Julie and Julia." But you gotta steal the good ideas when you find them.
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| Of all the things I could be recording--newly married days, the stress of being Acting Director, the pettiness of church and ministry conflicts--I'd like to talk about the farm.
I just returned to Bolivia after a few weeks in the States. The most impacting days of this delightful trip were three days on an organic farm in Kansas, with friends from Peru and Bolivia.
What was so full of impact, you may ask?
Well, it wasn't the croquet in the midday heat or the badminton we played in the middle of a thunderstorm. Though those were lovely.
And it wasn't the mild surprise of being in a house in the States without air-conditioning, a microwave, and a dishwasher. Though that was a strange relief.
I was drawn in, healed, and inspired by picking things.
We picked three buckets of peaches. Two bowls of huckleberries. A shirtful of tomatoes. More butternut squash and yellow zucchini than we could carry. A watermelon (that was devastatingly white inside). And more herbs than we could pack into the salsas and grilled veggies that we made minutes after the harvesting.
Ever since reading "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver, I've been mourning the fact that I live in arid, wintry mountains that only support the growth of about 300 different kinds of potatoes. In El Alto, there is no space, warmth, or rich soil for gardening. My only semi-successful potting is with some slow-growing rosemary, and dismally tiny bunches of oregano and thyme.
But the farm was decadently full of growth. I was childishly giddy amid the sweat, chiggers, and sunburn, as long as I was gathering growth. And then making cobblers with it.
I have no idea when this crazy life will afford another opportunity to dive into the garden. But the urge to root is in me now. I doubt it will easily fade.
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| It's no secret that my politics don't neatly line up with most evangelicals in the US. I'm usually overly vocal about it.
Recently, though, the influence of my highly a-political fiancee has been influencing me. "We're not citizens of this world," he tells me, "so it doesn't do much good to get so worked up about it."
I'm going through The Jesus I Never Knew again with some of our Bolivian staff, like the fifth time I've read it. And I came across a passage in which Yancey describes me quite well, while exploring the concept of the Kingdom of God.
Sheep among wolves, a tiny seed in the garden, yeast in bread dough, salt in meat: Jesus' own metaphors of the kingdom describe a kind of "secret force" that works from within. He said nothing of a triumphant church sharing power with the authorities. The kingdom of God appears to work best as a minority movement, in opposition to the kingdom of the this world.
For this reason, I must say in an aside, I worry about the recent surge of power among US Christians, who seem to be focusing more and more on political means. Once Christians were ignored or scorned; now they are courted by every savvy politician...
...This trend troubles me because the gospel of Jesus was not primarily a political platform...We dare not invest so much in the kingdom of this world that we neglect our main task of introducing people to a different kind of kingdom, one based solely on God's grace and forgiveness. Passing laws to enforce morality serves a necessary function, to dam up evil, but it never solves human problems. Jesus did not say, "All men will know you are my disciples...if you just pass laws, suppress immorality, and restore decency to family and government," but rather, "...if you love on another."
See, maybe I don't exactly fall into the political category of "the religious right," but sometimes, my methodology looks similar. I lean towards politics that provide justice for the poor, safety for the environment, peace rather than war. I vote for justice.
Justice, of course, I'll always care about. And fighting for it, in non-violent ways. But I can't hope to legislate love. Only Christ can work that in us.
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