For many years we have supported El Jordán, which calls itself “a crossing ground for those who desire to change and find freedom from the daily struggles of life on the streets.”
These struggles include drug addiction, delinquency, abandonment, and abuse.
Initially the ministry reached out primarily to “street moms” and their children in Santa Cruz. These women could come to El Jordán, take classes in practical skills like baking or sewing, and get medical and dental care for themselves and their children.
In recent years Corina and Marco have added a center which focuses on boys from ages 12-16. Until this trip, Yoli and I had not been able to see this boys’ ministry. But Monday, Marco took us out there.
At last it was time to say goodbye to La Víspera and Samaipata and return to the big city.
I woke early and climbed back up to El Trono to try to take more panoramic photos. I’ll have to stitch those together when I get back to St. Louis.
We ate the rest of our bread, cleaned up the cabin, and prepared to get a taxi.
The thing with taxis is that no matter how clearly you explain that you want something, such as an express taxi straight to Santa Cruz with no stops to pick up passengers, the drivers always seem to be unaware of the arrangement you made in the phone. One side of me thinks this is innocent; another side can’t shake the feeling it’s a ploy to charge higher fares, since it’s happened to us three times so far.
Here I am at the Seminario Teologico Hebron, and already it’s been a long day!
I arrived at Santa Cruz’s Viru Viru airport at 6 am (Bolivia time). My journey began at 10 am (CST) the previous day. There were a few curveballs during my connections (one flight was switched to a different plane and delayed almost 2 hours) but everything worked out okay and now I’m here.
Today was a day of blessings. It started early. We had a full morning planned: going to the bank to change dollars to bolivianos… then going to the photo store to check on the cost of scanning film to a PhotoCD… then going to the plaza and visiting a museum.
Tuesday was “Eat For Free Day” for me. For breakfast, I ate again with Arnold and Greta Wry, who have basically told me that any time I want to eat breakfast with them is fine. Then for lunch, Yoli and I were supposed to eat with Glennie and Marilyn Wry, but Marilyn was sick, so someone else cooked. And for dinner, Yoli took me to see her friend Gina and her husband for dinner.
Yes, there’s been an unusually high amount of rain in Santa Cruz since I arrived in January. And on Wednesday it was really rainy. It has also been very windy. I can’t complain about rain, since it eases the pain of the high temperatures that are the bane of my existence.
Sorry, I just had to get those rhymes off my chest.
On Wednesday we were invited to eat lunch with Glennie and Marilyn Wry. They are my neighbors, physically. Their house is on the ground floor of a 3-story student housing building which is right next the the guest quarters where I live.
Upon arriving for lunch from El Jordán, Marilyn called to let me know that my dad had called Becky Turner. Apparently someone in my family saw a news report on CNN about flooding in Santa Cruz — so bad that the water had carried people away. They were afraid for me.