Posted in August - Nicaragua by Angi Francesco on 8/8/2009
This last month of the race, Banah and Clay are on Ometepe Island on the western side of Lake Nicaragua in the country of the same name. We are living and working at an orphanage here. This is a day in the life of a World Racer...
It is just past 6:30am, and I am awake. Not a typical day on the World Race, until we reached Nicaragua. By 6:45, I will be in the kitchen, following mimed directions from a woman whose language I don't speak. This morning, I am deep frying plantains. I run the bananaesque fruits over a wooden block with a razor sharp blade across the center, leaving the plantains in slices the perfect thickness for kettle cooked chips, which is what these bits of goodness taste like once they are cooked. I toss the shaved plant matter into the oil and the still surface comes to life with a rolling boil. Once the oil has calmed down, I use the aluminum slotted spoon (more like an ice skimmer to me) to retrieve the chips from the cast iron pot and deposit them in a waiting bowl.
A glance at my wrist shows me it is 7:10; time to meet with the rest of Banah for morning prayers. After prayers, all of us return to the kitchen for breakfast, beans, tempura battered feta cheese, and the freshly fried plantain chips. After breakfast, I come back to the room I share with Laura and Vicki, my amazing sisters in this crazy journey. I spend an hour and a half working at my computer before returning to the kitchen.
Today, Sarah is my culinary partner, which is great since she is a wiz in the kitchen! But we are not in charge of the cooking... we just follow our orders. We are handed four neon pink fruits with little green tips sticking out all over them. Sarah cuts and peels them; her hands now stained bright pink, while I ready the blender. A few chunks of the vibrant fruit get pureed in two cups of water. Blend, empty into a five-gallon pot, repeat. Once that is done, we are called outside to the lemon tree that is visible from the kitchen window. ElsaMarie (one of the girls here) has a hook in her hand to shake over a dozen of the tiny lemons down from the tree; we pick them up and bring them into the kitchen. We squeeze every drop of juice from them, and add it to our neon blend. More water goes in until the pot is nearly full, then a half a kilo of sugar, and we have a delicious drink that is better than Koolaid, and definitely not something that came from a package!
Now we are moving onto lunch preparations. I'm slicing onions and garlic and adding them to the black pinto beans on the stove. Sarah is shredding cabbage on the same slicer that shaved the plantains earlier. Spanish worship music is blaring from a battle weary, smoke darkened, boom-box on a kitchen shelf, as Sarah and I spend the morning chatting away, discussing plans for home, that elusive place we've all talked about for nearly a year.
Around 11:30, we are released from our work to go shower and change for lunch at 1pm, which is followed by our 2pm to 3pm siesta. From 3pm to 5pm, Banah gets together to talk about our plans for re-entry into American culture. At 5:45, we head back to the kitchen for dinner, this time surrounded by many of the kids from the orphanage, who are all back from school and done with their chores for the day. After dinner, I find myself unwinding in a hammock at the rancho (gazebo) by the shore, lulled into a relaxing daydream by the cool breeze and dark waves crashing on the rocks below. By 8pm, I am in bed, with the lights out by 9pm. I am really living up the last days of my twenties!
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Posted in July - Mexico by Angi Francesco on 7/26/2009
As I stare into the sunset of my World Race journey, I have been spending some time flipping through the myriad pictures I have taken these last ten months. I glance at an image, and I remember that day... I remember so much of what I was thinking or how I was feeling. And I feel blessed.
In nearly every country in which I have lived this year, I have captured an image of the setting sun. In some places, it is over buildings and shrouded in smog, but most of the time, I have found the sun slipping behind a hill or a mountain, sliding down behind great boulders, sinking into a lake or an ocean, or even escaping beyond a cloud filled horizon from an airplane window. No matter where I have been this year, the sun has still risen in the east and set in the west. And unless you are living in Alaska, you have experienced the same number of sunrises and sunsets that I have.
Check out these pictures and think about this: How many days do you remember in the last year? How many sunsets do you remember?
Philippines
China
Kenya
Uganda
Tanzania
Somewhere over the Indian Ocean
Moldova
Romania
Mexico
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Posted in July - Mexico by Angi Francesco on 7/18/2009
Support Update: I AM ALMOST THERE!! Friends, I need only
$345.24 to be fully supported! Please help me in whatever
capactity you can, even if it is only $5.24!
While the rest of my Squad is in Guatemala, My team and Team Clay are currently living in a small city called Palenque in Chaipas, Mexico. We are staying with Eleazar, the director of Shekinah Bible Institute. School doesn't reconvene until August 1st, so we are staying in the dorms!
For the last few days though, six of us traveled to a village about an hour away to help with a children's program, and to do some home visits and help attract people to the new church in the village. It was amazing! My teammate Vicki is a French teacher in real life, and she has picked up some Spanish along the way... so, she became our defacto translator.
The problem with only one translator though is that they need a break now and then, or they are involved in another conversation when you need them. But something else happened... something strange. I started to comprehend more of what was being said than not. Pastor Elias would say something to Vicki, and I would understand it. This would be easy to explain if I had ever taken a Spanish class; I haven't. We've been in so many countries at this point, surrounded by so many different languages that I have become accustomed to two things. The first is not having a clue what is being said around me and the second is that knowing that after learning the polite formalities of Hello, Thank You and Goodbye, there was no hope for me learning anything beyond that.
This was new and different. This was full and complete immersion into a new culture and a new language, and understanding even a part of what was going on was incredible!
Here are some pictures from our time in the village. We spent a lot of time outside the Pastor's home, playing with some local kids...
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Posted in Hungary - June by Angi Francesco on 7/2/2009
I spent the month of June in Budapest, Hungary, a fact most of you blog readers did not know because I was a terrible blogger last month. There was something about being in Europe, being back in the first world, having internet all the time, that made it so easy NOT to blog, even though I wrote something nearly every day. Today, I am writing from Antigua, Guatemala, and already there is a difference in blogging. We are limited again. Limited electricity, limited internet. Limited. And so far, I think that is a good thing.
So, here is a brief glimpse of two people with whom I spent countless hours on the streets of Budapest doing Evangelism. Street Evangelism in Hungary is pretty much setting up a mini sound system, and Sam and Terry playing their guitar and banjo respectively, singing Christian songs, and then preaching a short message. These two men are so incredible.
Terry is a 68 year old crazy old coot from England. He was a
boxer in England for 20 years or so, after a stint in prison for
stabbing a man, at the age of 44, he found Jesus. He's been in
Budapest for a few years now, and he heads up the street evangelism
ministry with YWAM. He is an odd duck in many ways; he loves American
Country Music, especially some of the older stuff, and he has an
incredibly thick accent that is reminiscent of Eliza Dolittle's, only
harder to understand. I loved him from the moment I met him. Our
first day out at street evangelism, (and every day thereafter), he
pulls out his banjo and goes to town. It is incredible.
Then there is Sam. Sam is in his early 50's, and is from Alabama, a
fact abundandtly obvious as soon as he speaks, because his accent is
just as thick as Terry's, only slightly easier to understand. Sam found Jesus when he was in his early 20's and he and his friends spent all their time drinking and racing cars. One night, one of his friends had too much to drink, and drove his car too fast. He died in Sam's arms, and Sam came to the conclusion that there had to be more to life than drinking and racing. Sam has
been with YWAM since the early 90's, when he spent a few years on a
Mercy Ship off the coast of Africa. He was in a worship band there,
and he said he played guitar. He does more than just 'play guitar'. He makes his electric guitar sing like nothing I have ever heard before.
These guys are amazing, and I loved every Monday and Thursday afternoon I got to spend with them. They are two people who really are larger than life. Hopefully, I will be able to post some pictures of them soon!! And maybe, if we are very lucky, a sound clip too!!
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Posted in Support by Angi Francesco on 6/25/2009
This is it. The Home Stretch. On Tuesday, I will be leaving Europe and heading to Central America to finish up my last two months on the World Race in Guatemala and Nicaragua.
Nine months on the field so far, and all so amazing. These blogs don't even begin to tell half it. But I still have two more months to go. Two more months of growing and changing. Two more months of watching and waiting expectantly for God to move in miraculous and incredible ways. Two more months to see lives changed. Two more months to encounter the hearts of people in places I've only ever dreamed of seeing.
And without your help, they will remain only dreams. Because I still need $1160 to finish the World Race. And I need it by July 1st.
It is the Home Stretch of my support raising too, and I need one last push. One last burst of speed to put me over the line so I can finish this Race with as much strength as I started it.
$1160 in 5 days. $232 a day. About $10 an hour. At this point, every little bit helps. Thank you for your support, and your prayers.
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Posted in Romania - May by Angi Francesco on 6/8/2009
Some people say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Most days, I agree with this. Pavel spent three days in a hospital in Bucharest getting test after test and scan after scan, all with the same results: the cancer is back, the leg needs to go, and possibly more chemo. But apparently there is a special cancer hospital in the city. We heard about it, and everyone advocated for a second opinion for Pavel. If there was a way to save his leg, we wanted it. When Pavel returned to Casa Shalom, his father also joined us. He spent another day with us, and we spent another night praying for him. We are not insane. We did the same thing over and over, and we expected different results.
The doctors still said he needed to have his leg amputated. But Pavel is a determined young man, and he wanted a second opinion. So, he and his mother came back to Casa Shalom for a few days before heading off to another hospital.
Pavel and his family went off to the hospital to get more tests, still in hopes that there would be some way to save his leg. The next day, when Becky told us the results, there were both laughter and tears. Because Pavel was cancer-free! The people who specialize in cancer didn't find any in his system. Pavel's source of pain was the bone graft. His body was rejecting it, so the new piece of bone was removed, and he was told after the infection subsided they could try again. But Pavel no longer has cancer, and he gets to keep his leg!!
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Posted in Romania - May by Angi Francesco on 6/6/2009
Three days of passionate prayer for Pavel. Three days of pressing in. Three days of standing in the gap. Three nights of fervent corporate prayer. I have never before experienced anything that felt so powerful. I could feel God moving around us. Pavel believed with all his heart and all his soul that God would heal him, and by the third night, he said that his leg was feeling less pain, and the swelling had gone down a bit. Our prayers were working!
And then came the day we were sure God was going to use to prove how mighty He is. The day we dropped Pavel and his mother off at the hospital. We were off working on another project (Extreme Home Make-over, Romania Style), and waiting expectantly for news on Pavel. When Becky got the call, it was not the one we were expecting, not the call we had been praying to get for three days. It was not the call telling us that the doctors were confused and that the cancer was gone, that Pavel was healed and ready to go home and shout from the rooftop of every house in his village that God had healed him. That isn't the phone call we got. The doctors said that the cancer had returned. That Pavel's leg would have to be amputated just above the knee, but they couldn't say for certain that the cancer hadn't already spread to the rest of his body. If that was the case, he would need to go through chemotherapy (again), and that even then, his chances of surviving long enough to see his eighteenth birthday were nearly nonexistent.
Dejected and a little angry, a few of us slumped down on a couch and started to fuss like cranky 4 years olds. We wanted to know... if God isn't going to heal Pavel (Paul in English), a young man whose cup of faith runneth over, then who will He heal? There was some frustration at God. We didn't just lay hands on Pavel for a few minutes one evening, we prayed hard for three days. And just before we took him to the hospital, we were at a Pentecostal church where a congregation of several hundred people prayed for him for a long time.
But it wasn't enough. Three days of intense prayer wasn't enough for Pavel. This fifteen year old boy has to have his leg amputated to try to save his life.
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Posted in Romania - May by Angi Francesco on 6/2/2009
Support Update: I still need support. I am still in need of $1410 to finish the race, and I need $400 of that immediately. Sorry I haven't written much lately... seems to be the month eight writer's block that is going around... I'll be posting a couple of blogs a week this month, the first week or so which will be playing 'catch up' from Romania.
Pavel sat in a chair in the center of
the room, surrounded by his mother (Mihaela), Becky, half a dozen tweens and
teens and two World Race teams (Lunchbox and Banah).
He prayed passionately: Jesus, you can heal me. I am asking you to heal me. Take my pain away. Your blood was shed for me. Your blood was shed at Calvary for me. I trust in you, Jesus, to heal me. But not just so I will live. I trust you to heal me so I can go back to my village and be a witness. I will go back to them and tell them that Jesus took my cancer away. That is why I know you will heal me.
Pavel is a fifteen year old gypsy boy, and he has faith like none I have ever seen before. His faith isn't in his head; it is in his heart. He doesn't sit and recite bible verses all day long, or talk about why would God do this, or why would God allow that. He just believes, and he does so with incredible trust in God and passion.
He has bone cancer in his right leg, and a few months ago, he had surgery to remove it. The doctors took out a chunk of bone by his knee and replaced it with a piece from his hip. But something went wrong. His knee was swollen, and he was in a tremendous amount of pain. So he was staying at Casa Shalom for a few nights before going back to the hospital for more tests. More tests to see if the cancer had returned.
Becky asked us if we minded spending a little bit of time praying for Pavel (heck, one more opportunity to bring Kingdom and witness a miracle... we are World Racers, of course we don't mind!). Which brings us to the scene I mentioned above. This fifteen year old boy crying out to the Lord for healing, surrounded by two dozen people praying on his behalf. I don't know what it was, but whatever I've been holding on to that has been holding me back... well... I guess I just let go, and let God throw a switch in me. I began to understand what ‘Standing in the gap' really means, and in this moment, I finally felt like a warrior.
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Posted in Romania - May by Angi Francesco on 5/8/2009
I never thought it would be possible to fall in love in less than two weeks. But it happened. I can't say that it was love at first sight, but to use an unoriginal term (especially in Romania, birthplace of the Vampire myth) it was love at first bite. I don't know what I love most about Marius because there is just so much to love! He has an incredible servant's heart; a brilliant smile, a passion for the Lord and a heart for worship. He sings like an angel and his cooking... yumm, yummm, yummmmm! He would spend all day in the kitchen if he was allowed (you should have seen him teaching Mark how to make omlets). But because he is 11, he does have to go to school for at least part of the day.
Marius is an incredible young man, for the aforementioned reasons. His background and how he came to be at Case Shalom makes his story more incredible. When he was two an a half years old, he was living in an infant/toddler orphanage. There were 50 children living in one small room. An Orthodox priest, in an uncharacteristic move, contacted Becky at Casa Shalom, and asked her to take some of the children, because he knew that Casa Shalom was a better environment for children. Marius was one of the 5 children who were chosen that day.
For many years, Marius knew nothing about his family. He knew only that Becky had brought him from a state-run orphanage into to a loving home. He learned about Jesus, and he has incredible faith. But he still wanted to know how he made it to that orphanage in the first place. For years, he prayed that he would find his real parents. About two years ago, God answered his prayer, and he was introduced to his biological father. Marius learned that his mother had passed away two years before that, and that around the same time, he was singing in the same church his father and sisters were attending. Unfortunately, not every child who meets his parents encounters happy results, and Marius was one of those unlucky ones. After learning about him, and having him visit a few times, Marius' father told him that he never wanted to see him again. At age nine, this young, vibrant, child of God was told yet again that he was unloved and unwanted.
Now, two years later, Marius is switching homes again. Romania recently became part of the European Union, and they have different regulations for orphanages and children's homes. The cost of conforming to those regulations was too much for the supporters of Casa Shalom to bear and Becky has had to find new homes for all of the children who were here only a year ago. Marius and one other boy, Catalin, are the only two who remain. And after today, it will be only Catalin. Because Marius is leaving.
He is going to a different Christian-run home. Last night we had a goodbye party, though I am not sure the title party is deserved; every person in the room had tears streaming down their face. I have to trust God that it will be fine. That He will keep Marius safe, and that He has a plan. But right now, I don't get it. I don't understand why such an amazing young man can't have a place to call Home. I don't think there was a single World Racer in the room who didn't consider adopting Marius (me included) and giving him that place. One of the girls said she could call her parents and they would take him in a heartbeat. One of our men said, "I kept thinking, so what if I am 23 with an 11 year old?" We all desperately wanted to show him how loved his is. Sadly, Romanian laws have tightened in recent years, and Marius can't be adopted outside Romania. So Marius sang for us, and told us how much Casa Shalom means to him, and then we spent a long time praying over him.
Last night was hard. But tonight will be harder. Because this evening we will all pile into the vans and drive across town to a Christian Children's home that isn't Casa Shalom. We will look around the place, and know that it is where God wants Marius right now. But it won't make it any easier when we come home with one less shining light in the car. And my heart will go from slightly broken to shattered.
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Posted in April - Moldova by Angi Francesco on 4/29/2009
I like plans. I like details. I like to know who, what, where, when, why and how. What it all really comes down to is that I like to have things scheduled, and guaranteed. Mostly because I like to be prepared. When traveling, I don't like taking chances. If I need a train ticket, I will pay a little extra money to get a guaranteed seat vs. a ‘maybe you'll make it.' I don't like hours or days or weeks of empty space. Even on a day off, I prefer to at least have a mental checklist of things I am going to do.
That all being said, when plans or schedules change, I can handle it... if I have enough notice. Ie: time to research and schedule the new plan. If things change last minute, and I have no idea what is going on... I get agitated. I get especially irritated when other people are in charge of finding out the details, and making the plan, and they don't. I am better now at not having to know the plan, I just want to know that someone has one!
But last week, we had a travel day that was unplanned... unscheduled... with no guarantees. We needed to buy train tickets to go from Chisnou (Keeshnow), Moldova to Bucharest, Romania. What we didn't find out (because the internet isn't as comprehensive in other countries as we Americans would like, and because our contact in the city didn't know for sure) was that in order to purchase those tickets, we needed to show our passports. Suddenly, Olga, couldn't buy our tickets for us. And in the same breath, she told us that train only left every other day. We wanted to be on a train on Thursday night. But if it didn't leave until Friday... Eeek! Because of Easter, we got all of this information two days before we were supposed to leave Moldova. We quickly made plans and sent Cara and Laura to the Chisnou a day early with our passports to buy our tickets. And we prayed. God heard us, because somehow, even though it was the day before, we got seven beds on the train, all in the same car, and we were in two cabins close to each other. Whew! That part was a huge relief.
Then came the tough part. The other five of us were still in Soldernesti, and we needed to get to Chisnou via marshutka (big van) or bus, and then to the train station to catch our 5pm train. The biggest issue was that the only posted schedule indicated only two marshutkas, the last leaving at 12:30pm. Our translator in Soldernesti, Sergio, swore that there was a 9:20 coach bus that came through town and would take us the 3 hours to Chisnou. We could find NO evidence or information of said bus anywhere. As far as I was concerned, that bus was fictitious. What it came down to was that if the 12:30 marshutka couldn't fit all of us, some of us were missing the train to Bucharesti. It was the Perfect Storm for me to be stressed and freaking out... not only did we not yet have our tickets, we didn't even know if there was going to be space for all of us and our bags anywhere... if any of these forms of transportation showed up! I should have been irritated and grouchy about the lack of plans and information. But I wasn't.
My fantastic squadmate, Ian, taught me a new phrase. "So what? What is the worst than can happen?" In this case... I put it to the test. So what? What is the worst possible scenario if there are no buses or marshutkas out of Soldernesti? If we miss the (fictitious) bus, and the marshutka is full, we take a taxi. But what if we still miss the train? The next one doesn't leave for two days. So what? Really. So what? So I don't get to go to Brasov and wander around in the Carpathian mountains this weekend. So what? So I have to spend two nights in Chisnou before heading straight to ministry in Romania. So what? So I don't get the couple of days ‘off' in the way I had planned. That is the worst that can happen? That I don't get to spend my time the way I had wanted, and I have to spend a few extra dollars. Hmm. First, there are an awful lot of ‘I's in there. And second of all... nothing in that scenario is really all that terrible.?
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