Just like home (only totally different), by Dana

A few things are different here in Cochabamba.  Well, perhaps most things are quite different, but this beautiful city with lindo (lovely) people is beginning to be more like home, especially now that we have rented our own apartment.

After four months or so living with four different families in Montana and Bolivia--each one a real blessing--we are happy to be in our sparsely furnished flat.  A bit of God’s smile shined through as our building is named after Abraham Lincoln, and the adjacent park is parque Lincoln.  Perfecto for us!

Renting an apartment here isn’t as simple as whipping open the Sunday paper and scanning the ads.  Our Bolivian friend Paola (an answer to many prayers) helped us find our place, and because of her family’s friendship with our landlady, Paola assured her that we would be good tenants.  Simply having sufficient funds would be insufficient to secure a place to live.  So I am thankful for our new friend’s kindness in giving her recommendation on our behalf.

Learning the ropes of shopping is new here…in the olden days of Helena I drove my SUV to Costco and loaded up a cart so large it was the same size of some streetside restaurants here in Cochabamba.  Now when I shop, I walk to an outdoor tienda and eke out my Spanish questions and place my order for fruits and veggies right off of a busy city rotunda.  Then I carry all the produce up the hill a mile or so back to our place. I really enjoy combining shopping with exercise and getting to know the vendadora who’s at the stand every day.

Some other things are different about our new digs:

Hats and sunscreen are a must.  The elevation of 9,000+ feet plus sunny weather every day makes this a constant thing to remember, especially for our kids.

What's for dinner?  Hamster?

Lots of kissing.  When you meet someone new, or say goodbye, while touching the persons cheek with your cheek, you give a little kiss in the air close to their cheek.  Even my children’s lovely and (equally) rowdy playmates from upstairs politely kiss us all goodbye after a rough and tumble play date.

Dirt.  They say that in Cochabamba a plane touches the earth before it actually lands (due to all the dusty air).  Even if I sweep our floors cada dia, I can see what looks like a landing strip cleared of dust where we most frequently walk.  I am thankful I am not uptight about a squeaky clean home.

Food.  Who knew Astoria would love chicken hearts?  Walking to school today we saw a convention advertisement promoting healthy hamster meat.  And now in an effort to avoid water at a restaurant that may make us sick, Kellton has fallen in love with the orange sugary soda Fanta.  Thankfully, making fresh tumbo juice is now also a family favorite.

Transportation.  I’ve decided that either I either need to go on heart medication or ramp up my prayer life on the way to school.  The drivers seem most comfortable with close calls.

New friends.  Most of our friendships in the States are relationships we've had for many years.  Shared history, inside jokes, past foibles all weave us together.  Now we are investing in new relationships, and have met many interesting and thoughtful business people.  So between language school and setting up our new apartment, Quinn is enjoying a small taste what will be his central work to come.

Construction.  Buildings here, even 10-story ones are built largely by hand out of concrete.  There’s a building we watch out our window and the laborers are leaning out the widows, smoothing out the concrete with their little spatulas.

So yes, many things are different, and constantly learning Spanish is the most prominent new change for us.  Our many life changes have me constantly thinking throughout the day on the topic of change.  As followers of Christ, change should be central to our lives in many ways.  Our God does not change, and yet if we do not, we block Him out of our lives.  If we resist the changes He is calling us to, we cannot be His disciples and His word is no longer alive in our lives.  He wants to change our ways of injustice toward others, alter our attitudes, transform our pockmarked habits and secret sins, and alter our false notions that perhaps God is off duty.  Sometimes His changes are painful.  Sometimes they’re healing and peaceful.  But more often than not, He has changes in store for us.

Naturally, I resist change, even if the change might be for the better.  I’d rather stay comfortable than take a risk and try something new.  I find words like traditional, classic, and always a comfort.  And yet, God loves us too much to let us stay the same.  He wants us to look like His Son.  Therefore the need for major overhauls again and again.

I was moved when a new friend told me that his brother had fundamentally changed when he’d married a Christian woman.  While our friend has not yet come to faith, he was struck with how loving and patient his brother had become due to his growing faith and changes he’d made in marriage.  How might we all reveal this kind of change to our friends and families?

So while I work through all the new changes in our surroundings here in Bolivia, I am also trying to yield my life to the changes God wants, so He can mold me to be more like Christ. 

Isaiah 64:8 (NIV)

⁸ Yet you, Lord, are our Father.
    We are the clay, you are the potter;
    we are all the work of your hand.

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.”  --C. S. Lewis

Home Safe, by Dana

Transportation is a constant in any culture. Here in Cochabamba, Bolivia we’ve seen some heart stopping options. Mind you, when we left Helena, Montana our 4 and 6 year olds were still in 5 point harness car seats. Ahh, I’d sigh a relief when where were both clipped in, a mommy achievement that ensured they’d stay put—safe for a few moments while I finished some last minute preparations; then we could head out for safe travel.

Here this morning, I saw an adult and what looked like a middleschooler both on a motorcycle, with 3 large encased instruments. Somewhat reasonable transportation, but much more often in Cochabamba we spot an under 3 year old child clutching the handlebars of a motorcycle, an adult driving, then a 4-6 year old on the back, arms around the driver (and no one wearing a helmet). After the first few times of eye bugging shock and awe, I now casually notice. It’s simply regular transportation. Lovingly, the dad is getting his kiddos to school (and our kids wear no seatbelts in taxis each day; there aren’t any).

Almost two years ago when we were just back to Montana after our look/see/decide trip to Bolivia, our friends and family asked us, “How safe is Bolivia?” We wondered too. All residences have high stone, brick, or concrete walls, topped with broken glass bottles in the cement to deter robbers and the like. Of course, some Wall Street Journal articles and photos showing heavily armed government militia taking over privately held companies hasn’t helped the safety image. We know thieves prowl the concha (market) and some areas of town are sketchy.

But what is safe? What’s an image and what is an illusion? Is it the goal to be safe? Is safety God’s plan for us?

Very soon after safely arriving in Helena from Cochabamba from the exploratory trip, a terrible home invasion happened to our close family friends in Kalispell, Montana. At nine o’clock at night, the dad (one of Quinn’s two groomsmen) unlocked his house’s side door to pop out to the garage to get a tool. A knife wielding, mentally ill drug addict entered their home while the dad was in the garage, and upon seeing the dad back in the house shouted and started to stab the dad. This family lives in a safe area of Kalispell, surrounded by beautiful homes and a few doors down from historic mansions. Safe is how the dad thought his family was until he found himself wrestling down a violent intruder in the hallway to the bedroom where his wife was reading bedtime stories to his two children. The grim episode made National Public Radio. There’s much more to this story, but thankfully the kids and wife were safe, the dad apprehended him despite knife wounds, and held him until the police came.

Quinn and I were shocked and scared for our friends’ terrible experience (praise God, they are doing well). Our question, “Is Bolivia safe?” morphed into, “What is safe, and does God want us to be safe?”
I’m never cavalier about safety; it’s a hallmark of my birth family. However, I began to see how too strong a desire for safety, can actually be dangerous. A risk-free faith life, a kind of “playing it safe” somehow puts us on cruise control, and the hazards of complacency are not far behind. Suddenly we have no regard for the poor, our prayers are anemic, and our thoughts become fixated solely on our petty preferences. On Sunday it’s too easy to sing about the “many dangers toils and snares*” without our hearts and minds engaged.

So my understanding of safety needs to change. Am I safely in the arms of Christ? Yes. Is the food and water I consume here safe? Perhaps. Will Jesus answer my prayers to break my heart for the things that break His, revealing a possible path to dangerous routes at times? Yes.

C.S. Lewis simply and powerfully illustrated this truth in the children’s classic, “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” Lucy, a child is asking about the Christ figure, Aslan the Lion.
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “didn’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver told you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King I tell you.”

Friend, when our faith is safe, we may be in grave danger. And when we step out of our safety zone for His sake, He is near.

*“Amazing Grace” public domain 

Life’s Perpetual Homework, by Dana

Our new life in Cochabamba has the four us learning full throttle each day, all day.  We are now living with host family Grover and Nelvia Arancibia Cruz, and their two adorable boys Matias (5) and Nicolas (3).  They are teaching us more about Bolivian culture, food and customs.   The Arancibia Cruz home is in a section of Cochabamba called Barrio FerroBiario, about 8 kilometers from the heart of the city.  Therefore Quinn has gotten even more proficient dealing with public transportation and fare negotiation with taxis.

Each morning the four of us go back into the city together so we can all go to school.  On the way to catch a bus, there’s an abandoned railroad behind the Arancibia Cruz’s where we have seen the same shepherd a few mornings with his flock.  After finding and hopping a “micro”, we get to a large rotunda where we hail a taxi and negotiate a price.  Once we get to Despartad (our children’s school), we walk the kids to their classroom and greet their teachers and other parents.  One endearing aspect of Bolivian culture is their insistence on greeting each person, as if each person matters.  I find this to be just like God’s heart.

While it’s my goal to achieve a “3 year old’s level of Spanish fluency” it’s going to take quite a while for me to get there.  Learning Spanish starting from ground zero, is simply tough.   Living with a Bolivian family puts us in a permanent soak of learning.  Looking back at our lives in Helena, I can see how my normal life was so often in auto pilot.  Before I never had use much brain power to go to the grocery, bank, get daily directions, make friends, how to cook, get safe water, how to decipher our children’s homework directions, decide what is acceptable to wear, bring to a party—well the list goes on.  And while I’ll admit that this commitment/preoccupation with learning is a new phase in my life, I am sure it’s more of the mindset God has wanted me to have all long.

I am finding inspiration for learning in our host family.  Grover, has the heart of a scholar.  First of all, he’s fluent in four languages (Quechua, Spanish, French and English), and his home office shows his love of learning.  While he did not have an ideal upbringing, living with many different family members, he achieved many accomplishments, including being ranked number one in Karate for the whole country.  On the cusp of training for Olympics to compete in Karate, he decided instead to pursue his study of the Bible.  He is now a teacher at a Christian school, and hosts many families like us.  He teaches and preaches at his church, works with the young adults and occasionally does translation work.  Grover is a very bright, humble, hardworking man dedicated to giving his boys (including one more on the way) a stable and godly childhood, different from his own. And God has surely granted him a gem of a wife.  Nelvia is also a treasure of grace, hard work and kindness.  And (lucky us) she’s an incredible cook!

Here’s some more inspiration to continually learn what God’s gentle heart wants to teach you:

Proverbs 13: 20a  “He who walks with the wise grows wise.”

Titus 3:14  “Our people must learn to devote themselves to doing what is good…and not live unproductive lives.”

Psalm 25:4-5 “Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are my God and my Savior, and my hope is in your all day long.”

Psalm 90:12  “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Care Package information...

Many of you have asked for information about sending us anything.  Hopefully this helps.

What are some things I can mail you? And how much can the package weigh?

Anything as long as it's not over 4 pounds (2 kilos).  Please don't send cards with money.

How do I package it?

To keep shipping prices down, we've learned a trick. You can order flat rate bubble wrap envelopes from the postal service (they are free and ship free to you). They are only available online, don't ask me why. But they hold up to 4 lbs. of stuff and the rate from The States to Bolivia is $16.90 (WAY cheaper than normal rates). They're not huge, but they're definitely a more economical choice. Click here to order them.

You can also go the more traditional route and ship in a box (still only 4 lbs). It will just cost a little more.

What do I put on the customs form?

Just in case, label your packages as used clothes, or used books on the customs form. Put the price that you would pay for the item in the box at a secondhand store. But even if you put the real items/prices, it will still most likely reach us.

How long does it take for you to get a package?

If you send it by UPS ground it could take about 3 months. If you use airmail (which is more expensive but somehow more secure) it takes 2-3 weeks. If you send a box it takes longer regardless of airmail or ground. Envelopes (the card and letter kind), even sent by ground, take less time, but are less secure.


Mailing Address

Quinn & Dana Holzer
Casilla 310

Cochabamba, Bolivia

Hearing Check, by Dana

A lemon tree cheerfully stands guard outside our children's classroom.

Perhaps you have had a season in your life that you would describe as “magical”.  Moving to Helena, Montana in 1996 was that kind of special time for me.  Being a former flatlander of Indiana made me notice all the charming differences of this wonderful town:  the gorgeous hills and mountains ringing the town, the unpretentiousness and unrushed pace of the people, a coffee shop that offers I.O.U slips so you can pay later on your honor.  While my love of Montana has never waned, the dust settles after 15+ years and my eyes and ears no longer noticed the new sights and sounds as they once did.

Like a fresh vacation morning after a night of rain, our senses are heightened in a way that makes us more alive when we are living in a new place.   Each day in Cochabamba has been that way for me.  Sounds alone here are so very different that my quiet home in Helena.  The first morning greetings are downright noisy.  There’s a cacophony of bird noises that assault my “I am still trying to sleep” groggy self.   I could not imagine the jungle to be any louder, and it’s not just because there’s screeching peacocks who live on our street.  Another sound this morning got my attention:  a high ting-ting-ting sound, signaling the arrival of the gas truck.  Apartments and homes here use gas cans to power their stoves, washing machines, and hot water heaters.  While I have no idea how to tell if we are running low on gas, nor any idea how to get the service men to stop, my ears are primed to notice new sounds.

I want my faith to be like this, regardless of where I live. Expectant.  Listening.  Wondering.  Eager.  Alive.  I am thankful for this time in Bolivia to learn about a new culture as I also reflect on my own.  I am hopeful that my faith will grow here as well, as I stretch to learn a new language, a new way to greet people (lean in for a kiss on your right cheek), a new way to cook/travel/shop/parent/wash/ and the list goes on.   An encouraging verse, reminding me to listen is Isaiah 40:28b-31 Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Outside Interpol, Astoria again tries to
entice birds to land on her.

Travel by the numbers 2, 5, 17, 1, 26, 2

With 2 small children, 5 flights, 17 pieces of luggage, 1 epic airport sprint, 26 travel hours and 2 weary parents, at long last we made it to Bolivia.

Thankfully, we made a “last call” flight in Houston.  This connection was very tight and it seemed to take forever to get off our previous flight so we could begin the race to our Panama City plane.  Poor Quinn, he was carrying 100+ pounds of luggage and a whining Astoria up on his shoulders.  I am not sure how he did it.  We were very thankful to make that plane.

Once we got to Panama City Airport Astoria was befriended by a Bolivian woman from Santa Cruz, and it was a nice introduction to the friendliness of Bolivians.  Her name is Blanca and eventually she asked if I’d pray for her and her two university-aged kids.  It was great to make a new friend, mainly struck up as Blanca loved getting Astoria to hug her and wave to her.

PHOTO of APT:  Our apartment for our first two weeks is clean and has two full bathrooms, three bedrooms, and a kitchen and sitting room.  The slick parquet flooring is much to Kellton’s liking as he slides down the hall in his socks.  We are careful not to brush our teeth in the tap water, nor flush toilet paper down the toilet (there’s small garbage cans next to the toilets). Kellton initially begged many times to go back to Montana.  However, he is delighted to see palm trees, cacti, double decker busses, and the whole open cityscape--the view he’s seen in our pictures of Cochabamba from last November.  His recognition of the panoramic view was a neat realization for him.  For years we’ve talked about moving here, and finally we are here.

Wednesday 2/27/13:

Kellton loved riding in the cramped Taxi Trufis and made a new friend, Ben, the Collins’ middle child.  He was taught to play the game Battleship with their eldest, Naomi, and enjoyed this game.  The Collins’ girls both greeted me wearing their “Cloud Nine Design” t shirts I’d brought them last year.  While our kids played with the Collins’ kids, we met other teammates and Dan’s close colleague, Duane Guthrie of Canada, who helped us set the mindset for what we’ll be learning culturally, including some of the frequent mistakes North Americans typically make in Bolivia.

A huge joy was coming back to the Collins’ condo, high up on a cobblestone street and finding that our kids were having a ball and didn’t want to leave their home.  (Astoria actually hid from me).  Poor Kellton hasn’t eaten much at all but has found that he loves drinkable yogurt.  Even our dependable eater Astoria hasn’t eaten much, but I am sure this will change soon. 

Thursday 2/28/13

Today we had a packed day ahead of us.  The night before, I laid out all clothes, breakfast, city travel supplies, anticipating that we’d have to wake up the kids in the am.  Kellton was wiped out still from Wednesday.  All three of us sat on his bed while his corpse-like self resisted any attempts to join the day.  After breakfast, we headed out with Dan and Daryl Collins to learn about three school options:  Carachipampa Christian School (CCS), Rise and Shine, and Despertad (which means Wake Up) Montessori School.  CCS is a lush oasis at 7K marker out of town, instantly transporting you away from the noise and graffiti of the city.  Green grass, sculpted bushes, gorgeous rose gardens give an air of peace and learning.  Dan and Darryl recently switched their three kids to this English-speaking missions school.  The pre-kinder and kinder classes do not meet simultaneously however and so this Serving In Mission (SIM) school isn’t a good fit for us.  Also, we want to send our kids to a Spanish-speaking school (much to Kellton’s dislike).  Rise and Shine preschool is dear to us as the owner/director is a recipient of a loan through the Emprendimiento Munial (the Business as Mission arm of the work here).  The final school we visited, Despertad, immediately won our hearts and minds (with our tired, cranky and hungry touring kids in tow).  It is a Spanish language Montessori environment that would be a particularly good fit for Kellton.  The Bilingual director, also a pastor with her husband, was impressive:  articulate, knowledgeable of child development and a great spokesperson for the value of a non-competitive self-paced environment.  Also, there are a few English speaking children at the school (including a girl Kellton’s age who also wears glasses).  Plus, Astoria would be close at hand as the classes are multi-grade environments.  Also a plus, the school is in the same area as our office and has nice grounds even in this busy city.

After the school tours, we made a grocery run to I.C. Norte, a pretty modern grocery.  I was thankful I’d compiled a list, and had it on hand.  After a quick bite to eat at home from our first round of groceries, we were off to Interpol at the town centre.  If only I had a picture of Astoria (wearing clothes no longer white in color) crouched on the side of a dirty building off the main Piazza.  Quinn and I were furiously filling out forms with our Bolivian staff person Jhonny and Tom, from Oregon, and Javier who arrived the same day as us.  One does not fill out these forms in the office, nor in the building.  So we were passing around and checking our most sensitive documents street side with scores of people walking by.  Thankfully Kellton and Astoria didn’t wander off while we were distracted.  With all pigeons around the Piazza, it’s a possibility.  It’s Astoria’s dream to get a bird to land on her arm, and we figured out that back at our apartment she’d been putting crackers crumbs on her window sill to entice them into “visiting”.  All four of us wrapped up our police station visit by having 10 fingers inked and fingerprinted.

Government buildings facing the Piazza

As we walk around the city, I keep asking myself, “How will we make a positive difference?  How can we learn enough, quickly enough, to be effective?  What will God have us do?”  As I knew I would, we’ve seen a child beggar and elderly people street begging reminding me of the real reason we are here.  Not being able to speak the language yet, makes it hard.  However, I am so thankful that Liz Flynn reminded me of Katie Davis’ poignant observation* that showing love needs no translation.  A simple smile’s meaning is clear.  So I keep smiling, shrugging ignorance, smiling again and saying “Gracias” and “Buenos Dias.”

I have one more reflection to share from our visit to Tom and Abbey’s apartment.  This young couple is from Oregon and have been serving with the Collins, and as I type this, are at the hospital having their first child.  Soon after we arrived at their place, it began to rain.  So since we were on foot, we stayed a bit longer and I enjoyed the weather’s excuse.  Just before the storm, Kellton, Quinn, Astoria and Tom went up the roof of the apartment building.  Astoria came down ecstatic.  “Mommy-I’ve never been up on a roof before! And from there you can see the whole world!”  Her little Helena, Montana world is opening up so much, and it makes me happy to hear her chatter, and her delight in saying all words she knows in Spanish, and Kellton’s keen observations of plants, different vehicles and appliances, his love of Taxi Trufis and their new ways of playing.  We are all seeing more of the “whole world.”

 * “Kisses from Katie” is a book I’ve been greatly inspired by and highly recommend.

Set to Jet, by Dana

We finally have our Bolivian work visas in hand and our airplane tickets rebooked.  We are scheduled to fly out of Helena, Montana on Monday, February 25^th, at 7 am.  While our first tickets read January 23^rd, the delay has brought many added blessings, bumps, and the occasional bright spot in the month of waiting.  Here’s a run down of our last month:

·         Host families:  We had rented our house out as of January 1.  So we’ve had two rounds of host families, the Connollys and the Garrisons, plus a quick trip to see the Bays of Kalispell and the grandparents on the ranch in central Montana.  We could not have asked for more cheerful families to show us kindness to us during this somewhat awkward time. (We often found ourselves answering  the same question many times a day... “What!  You’re still here?!?”)

·         School:  We had taken both the kids out of school, and were not able to reenroll Kellton in his former elementary school.  Not wanting our Kindergartener to miss too much school (read Mommy wants to uh, share his inexhaustible questions with the world) we put him in Montana City School.  Then surprise!    He was assigned the Kindergarten teacher he had reading lessons with this summer.  God had a good trick up His sleeve.

·         Home:  We have all learned new things during this season.  For me, the phrase, “heaven is my home” has often come to mind.  Moving out of “our house” (it’s God’s anyways, on loan to us), living in various other peoples’ homes, has made me really long for something a bit more permanent. I have been a broken record hounding the kids to be careful as we try and not glue, paint, sticker others’ homes.    However again and again, God has brought the truth to my mind that this world is not our forever home.

·         Health:  I think our family set a record for length of time with colds, and the number of people we could infect.  We got the Flynns, Connollys, grandma, great grandpa, all jokingly citing us as patient zero.  So slogging through illness has created an increased need in each of us to show a bit more grace and patience.  If only we were as potent to “infect” others with the spirit and love of Christ.

So we still need to pack/acquire/find a few more things, but for the most part, we are ready to leave for Cochabamba, Bolivia.  We hope you’ll follow our updates each step and pray for the upcoming new culture/language/ housing hurdles.  And let us know how we can cheer you on and pray for you as well.