I have an idea that many of you think that Costa Rica is a jungle with natives. Even though much of it is jungle, and a beautiful jungle at that, the people are modern and up to date. They may be poor and live in houses with dirt floors with walls that don't go all the way to the ceiling (probably for good ventilation) - they may not have a couch but they almost all have televisions so "know" all about the world. That reminds me to tell you that what most foreigners think about the U.S. is what they see on televison and that's not good for the most part.
Many Costa Ricans have a better lifestyle than Mexicans which is probably why you seldom run into them in the U.S. They don't need to leave to have a good life.
One difference I see in living in Costa Rica and the U.S. is that even though you can buy most of the same things here, there just isn't the choice we have in the States. The cosmetic section at the grocery store, for instance, is about 6 feet long - the entire selection of cosmetics is housed in this small space. You don't have the choice of brands and don't have the generic brands so if you want the "luxury" things like make-up, you have to pay high prices and take what you can find.
Actually, I am finding more American food products here in Costa Rica than I did in Mexico. I was so thrilled to get pickles, for instance.
People still live behind walls or rod-iron fences like in Mexico so we don't see our neighbors often, and I don't like that. We have to go through 4 locks to get to our car and get it out of the garage. If we have put the car in for the night, it takes something really big to make us get it out again before the next day. We aren't complaining as this is the first garage we've had since leaving the U.S.
The sun rises between 5 and 6 in the morning and sets the same time at night, year around. That means that the people start early. We hear talking outside our bedroom window every day about 5:20 - ladies going on their daily walk.
These are just some random thoughts about living "down here". Come visit us and see for yourself.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Sunday, August 29, 2004
.jpg)
.jpg)
Biking for Jesus
Well, the road blocks finally dispersed and Mitzi and I set out for Nicoya and, after a liesurely 4 hour drive, arrived around noon on Thursday...only two days later than we intended.
Having a vague idea of where the volunteer group was to be working we went up that road until we came to the next town, and not having found them, ate a nice lunch and returned to Nicoya via another route...all the while hoping we would happen upon the bikers. I could hardly wait. My bike was tuned and ready, and, after all, it had only been about 7 years since I biked the roads of East Tennessee regularly. (Time does pass fast, doesn't it?) My enthusiasm, plus the fact that the terrain was fairly flat and rolling, only served to feed my desire to get started. This was going to be fun.
Still no bikers. The hotel was handy, so we stopped in and asked about the "gringo" group from the United States. The young lady's eyes lit up with recognition (or was that amusement) and said my friend was waiting for me. She called his room, and sure enough, Steve, our GO group worker was there waiting for us to show up.
The previous two days the group breezed through the area we had searched and gone to the road between Nicoya and Samara, a stretch of about 20 miles. (By the way, Samara is a small, tranquil village located in a cove on the Pacific ocean...nice beach, few people. The locals know about it, but it hasn't been discovered by many tourists yet. Great spot for a quiet and relaxing few days of vacation.) Steve inquired about what we wanted to do. Did we want to wait for the group? Did I want him to take me to find them? No way. I was already unloading my bike and changing in to my biking duds. "Point me in the right direction, and I'm on my way. Since they're working back this way, I'll find them."
Now Steve's a big guy and isn't a wimp...works out, stays in shape. But he wasn't biking. Delivering the ladies to their walking assignments...checking on everyone by truck...I didn't pick up on that right away. Funny how the enthusiasm of youth blinds you to things that ought to be obvious. Problem is...I seem to be missing one vital element. You figure it out. (I have heard that when a guy is young he is an enthusiastic young man, but later he's just an old fool.)
Anyway. I set out riding liesurely through Nicoya and onto the road to Samara...Did I say "onto"? I meant to say "up." What happened to the rolling hills? Those beautiful green mountains we admired all the way to Nicoya had not only followed us, they had now anchored themselves between Nicoya and Samara. No matter. This was going to be fun. And it was...in the same strange way that a marathon is fun to a runner, conquering the English channel is fun to a swimmer, reaching the pinnacle of Mount Everest is fun to a climber. No, not really. I can't put myself in those categories. It was enjoyable and not all that hard. (Easy to say now, two days later.)
Eventually, I did meet up with the other bikers, and they were having the time of their lives. For some of them, mountain biking was an unfamiliar experience. For others, it was something they did regularly. But for all of them, going house to house, visiting with people, praying for them, and giving them the gospel was exilirating. The long uphill pulls were not even factors. They were like kids again, each wanting to talk and tell his story about what happened at this house...what they prayed for with that person.
I joined one of the goups that were "leap-frogging" along the road, and at first I kind of took the lead because I was the only one in our group of three that spoke Spanish. I soon realized that I was only getting in their way. They felt cheated if they didn't get to talk to the people...no matter that they couldn't speak Spanish. It was a real pleasure to just stand back and watch them attempt the few words they knew and point out the key passages in the Spanish Book of John we were giving. It's amazing how God filters through all our feeble attempts and brings out the truth. Those simple mountain folks could sense the sincerity and love those big ole tough gringo bikers had. We were sweaty, smelly, and couldn't speak their language very well, but something else was there. Time after time they invited us to sit on the porch with them. When the heavy rains came...each day...people invited us to stay until the rain stopped.
There are a few stretches of road in Costa Rica that have received the gospel because a group of guys from East Tennessee made a trip, had lots of fun, and stopped at each house to hand a person what could change a life...an eternity.
Having a vague idea of where the volunteer group was to be working we went up that road until we came to the next town, and not having found them, ate a nice lunch and returned to Nicoya via another route...all the while hoping we would happen upon the bikers. I could hardly wait. My bike was tuned and ready, and, after all, it had only been about 7 years since I biked the roads of East Tennessee regularly. (Time does pass fast, doesn't it?) My enthusiasm, plus the fact that the terrain was fairly flat and rolling, only served to feed my desire to get started. This was going to be fun.
Still no bikers. The hotel was handy, so we stopped in and asked about the "gringo" group from the United States. The young lady's eyes lit up with recognition (or was that amusement) and said my friend was waiting for me. She called his room, and sure enough, Steve, our GO group worker was there waiting for us to show up.
The previous two days the group breezed through the area we had searched and gone to the road between Nicoya and Samara, a stretch of about 20 miles. (By the way, Samara is a small, tranquil village located in a cove on the Pacific ocean...nice beach, few people. The locals know about it, but it hasn't been discovered by many tourists yet. Great spot for a quiet and relaxing few days of vacation.) Steve inquired about what we wanted to do. Did we want to wait for the group? Did I want him to take me to find them? No way. I was already unloading my bike and changing in to my biking duds. "Point me in the right direction, and I'm on my way. Since they're working back this way, I'll find them."
Now Steve's a big guy and isn't a wimp...works out, stays in shape. But he wasn't biking. Delivering the ladies to their walking assignments...checking on everyone by truck...I didn't pick up on that right away. Funny how the enthusiasm of youth blinds you to things that ought to be obvious. Problem is...I seem to be missing one vital element. You figure it out. (I have heard that when a guy is young he is an enthusiastic young man, but later he's just an old fool.)
Anyway. I set out riding liesurely through Nicoya and onto the road to Samara...Did I say "onto"? I meant to say "up." What happened to the rolling hills? Those beautiful green mountains we admired all the way to Nicoya had not only followed us, they had now anchored themselves between Nicoya and Samara. No matter. This was going to be fun. And it was...in the same strange way that a marathon is fun to a runner, conquering the English channel is fun to a swimmer, reaching the pinnacle of Mount Everest is fun to a climber. No, not really. I can't put myself in those categories. It was enjoyable and not all that hard. (Easy to say now, two days later.)
Eventually, I did meet up with the other bikers, and they were having the time of their lives. For some of them, mountain biking was an unfamiliar experience. For others, it was something they did regularly. But for all of them, going house to house, visiting with people, praying for them, and giving them the gospel was exilirating. The long uphill pulls were not even factors. They were like kids again, each wanting to talk and tell his story about what happened at this house...what they prayed for with that person.
I joined one of the goups that were "leap-frogging" along the road, and at first I kind of took the lead because I was the only one in our group of three that spoke Spanish. I soon realized that I was only getting in their way. They felt cheated if they didn't get to talk to the people...no matter that they couldn't speak Spanish. It was a real pleasure to just stand back and watch them attempt the few words they knew and point out the key passages in the Spanish Book of John we were giving. It's amazing how God filters through all our feeble attempts and brings out the truth. Those simple mountain folks could sense the sincerity and love those big ole tough gringo bikers had. We were sweaty, smelly, and couldn't speak their language very well, but something else was there. Time after time they invited us to sit on the porch with them. When the heavy rains came...each day...people invited us to stay until the rain stopped.
There are a few stretches of road in Costa Rica that have received the gospel because a group of guys from East Tennessee made a trip, had lots of fun, and stopped at each house to hand a person what could change a life...an eternity.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Trucker Strike
Life in Latin America....We were supposed to go to Nicoya today to work with a volunteer group from FBC, Powell, TN...a unique working method. They are traveling the rural roads on bicycles, delivering the Book of John to each house. Well, I took my old bike to the shop to get it "tuned up." Of course, the tune up worked its way into two new tires and a few other things...a $12 job into $30. It was ok. I was excited about the trip and working with the group, and, I suppose renewing a love for riding the bike.
Early this morning calls began to come. Did we know that the truckers had the road we needed to travel blocked? Traffic was backed up for miles and miles. People are unable to get to the airport for scheduled flights, travel to work places, come home from trips.
We waited and regularly checked the T.V. and radio for news that they had called off the road blocks and we could get started. Didn't come. Maybe tomorrow. We're not sure what the issues are.
Attitudes toward laws are interesting in Latin America. Of course, in the U.S. this wouldn't be allowed. Latins seem to have a high regard for rules in most cases...You can't go in the "out" door. You have to do anything bureaucratic in the proper order and sequence without question. They'll wait in line patiently to do transactions. But corruption is rampant in government, and there is little regard for law, maybe understandably.
Surely there's an application in all that somewhere. Like maybe we all do pretty well until we decide breaking the law will benefit us. Then it's ok to disregard the rules...even to the detriment of others.
Early this morning calls began to come. Did we know that the truckers had the road we needed to travel blocked? Traffic was backed up for miles and miles. People are unable to get to the airport for scheduled flights, travel to work places, come home from trips.
We waited and regularly checked the T.V. and radio for news that they had called off the road blocks and we could get started. Didn't come. Maybe tomorrow. We're not sure what the issues are.
Attitudes toward laws are interesting in Latin America. Of course, in the U.S. this wouldn't be allowed. Latins seem to have a high regard for rules in most cases...You can't go in the "out" door. You have to do anything bureaucratic in the proper order and sequence without question. They'll wait in line patiently to do transactions. But corruption is rampant in government, and there is little regard for law, maybe understandably.
Surely there's an application in all that somewhere. Like maybe we all do pretty well until we decide breaking the law will benefit us. Then it's ok to disregard the rules...even to the detriment of others.
Monday, August 23, 2004
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Rosa
Mitzi and I drove to Bajos del Toro yesterday. Nestled high in the emerald green mountains of Costa Rica, it's one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. As you drive in on narrow, one lane roads, you can see waterfalls far across the valley. It's farm and dairy land and the fields are full of crops and milk cows. The people are simple country people...friendly and warm, but with very little knowledge of the true gospel.
I worked there with a group from Michigan last week and wanted to go back to visit with one family in particular. As we walked through the village, we had stopped and talked with a lady named Rosa. She is 66 years old and has lived in that area all her life. When we first talked to her, very briefly, we asked if there was anything that we could pray about with her. She responded negatively, saying that everything was fine. While we were there, her grown daughter, Sinia, stopped by and we met her. She lives across the road from Rosa.
We left and later came back down the road passing out the Book of John with marked passages which are called "Pasos Hacia una Vida Mejor" - "Steps to a Better Life." (The first pass was to pray for the homes and, if we got a chance, with whoever would let us pray for them personally.) That time we came to the daughter's house first and had a nice visit with her, then proceeded to her mother's house. This time as we visited with Rosa, she told us, with tears, that her daughter's husband drank a lot. It was obviously a problem.
I wanted Mitzi to meet her and have a chance to get to know her, so we went back Saturday. She talked some more about the drinking problems, and we prayed with her. I wanted for us to visit with Sinia, but she was working at a trout farm restaurant. We did go there and have lunch, so she knows we were there.
Alcohol is such a problem in these villages. The men work hard in the fields and have little hope of ever doing anything else. There is nothing to do other than work and drink. Rosa, whose husband is a "buen hombre que no toma ni fuma" (a good man who doesn't drink or smoke), told us that he, "slept, ate, and worked."
Please join us in praying for Sinia's husband in particular and the men of so many villages who have no hope nor purpose without Christ.
I worked there with a group from Michigan last week and wanted to go back to visit with one family in particular. As we walked through the village, we had stopped and talked with a lady named Rosa. She is 66 years old and has lived in that area all her life. When we first talked to her, very briefly, we asked if there was anything that we could pray about with her. She responded negatively, saying that everything was fine. While we were there, her grown daughter, Sinia, stopped by and we met her. She lives across the road from Rosa.
We left and later came back down the road passing out the Book of John with marked passages which are called "Pasos Hacia una Vida Mejor" - "Steps to a Better Life." (The first pass was to pray for the homes and, if we got a chance, with whoever would let us pray for them personally.) That time we came to the daughter's house first and had a nice visit with her, then proceeded to her mother's house. This time as we visited with Rosa, she told us, with tears, that her daughter's husband drank a lot. It was obviously a problem.
I wanted Mitzi to meet her and have a chance to get to know her, so we went back Saturday. She talked some more about the drinking problems, and we prayed with her. I wanted for us to visit with Sinia, but she was working at a trout farm restaurant. We did go there and have lunch, so she knows we were there.
Alcohol is such a problem in these villages. The men work hard in the fields and have little hope of ever doing anything else. There is nothing to do other than work and drink. Rosa, whose husband is a "buen hombre que no toma ni fuma" (a good man who doesn't drink or smoke), told us that he, "slept, ate, and worked."
Please join us in praying for Sinia's husband in particular and the men of so many villages who have no hope nor purpose without Christ.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
God at work
I found out that last week one of our workers led at least 10 people to Christ during Bible studies. This is on top of a number of people who agreed to have a Bible study in their homes.
We are seeing that people are open to at least talk about the gospel. Generally, the Costa Rican people are God-fearing. But they more often than not are not practicing anything. An article in the newspaper last week stated that the percentage of practicing Catholics in Costa Rica had fallen to 47%. As we talk to people, that seems to be true.
We are seeing that people are open to at least talk about the gospel. Generally, the Costa Rican people are God-fearing. But they more often than not are not practicing anything. An article in the newspaper last week stated that the percentage of practicing Catholics in Costa Rica had fallen to 47%. As we talk to people, that seems to be true.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Birthday
Today was my birthday...not an auspicous occasion...matter of fact, I tried to forget it. People kept reminding me of it. I think they were gloating, since they were all younger than me...well, almost all of them. Of course, there's not too many people I know who aren't younger than me. Parents...but you know how that is. They tend to remember their children's birthdays.
One story about the recent project...
One of our teams of three people approached a house up in the mountains and began talking to the people who lived there...a man, his daughter and his wife...maybe another person, I'm not sure. The team leader explained that they were walking through the area, passing out gospels of John, and praying for people. The father spoke to his family, saying, "Ya llegaron." "Now, they came." He went on to explain that they had been wanting someone to come and pray for his daughter, who recently had surgery on her arm to remove a growth. The team prayed for the young lady, for her healing, and for the family, then explained that they were not "healers" but that God could heal her. He might not, but He could. They went on to discuss the need for healing of the soul.
To me it's interesting that we seemed to be an answer to their needs at the time. Maybe we were. Are there any cooincidences in God's economy?
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Saturday, August 14, 2004
I, (Carroll) got home last night from a trip with a group from Michigan. They were a great group to work with...not one complaint all week. Sense of humor, hard-working. We worked in three small villages and along country roads, going from house to house, passing out the Gospel of John with steps to a better life...steps to salvation actually, which is, of course, a better life.
The goal was multifacited...to pass out the gospel; to lead people to Christ if the opportunity arose; to pray for people as they would permit; and to find open doors to hold a Bibls study in the home. Praise the Lord several people prayed to receive Christ and a half dozen or so Bible studies were scheduled. Many people were prayed for.
The people of Costa Rica are generally open to talk to us. Their Catholic roots are not generally as strong as in some other Latin America countries. In fact a recent survey here indicated that only about 47% of Costa Ricans were practicing Catholics. That means there are a lot of them not practicing any religion.
The goal was multifacited...to pass out the gospel; to lead people to Christ if the opportunity arose; to pray for people as they would permit; and to find open doors to hold a Bibls study in the home. Praise the Lord several people prayed to receive Christ and a half dozen or so Bible studies were scheduled. Many people were prayed for.
The people of Costa Rica are generally open to talk to us. Their Catholic roots are not generally as strong as in some other Latin America countries. In fact a recent survey here indicated that only about 47% of Costa Ricans were practicing Catholics. That means there are a lot of them not practicing any religion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)