Disinformation False information deliberately and often covertly spread (as by the planting of rumors) in order to influence public opinion or obscure the truth. Merriam-Webster Online
We live in a world that is awash in information and not all information is equal. With AI tools, it has never been easier to create statistics, news articles and even photos that are false or misleading. Many people posting on social media have an agenda that they are trying to accomplish. It may be political, financial or personal. Someone running for political office will be motivated to share posts that make their opponents look bad. CEO’s and business leaders may be motivated to share posts that make their competitors look bad and that will drive customers to their own products. Even your friends may be motivated to “slightly edit” some photos to make their vacation look more glamorous than it really was.
An idyllic vacation or fun with AI?
How are we supposed to know what is real and what isn’t? Should we just accept that everything we see online or on the news is probably fake and that there is no way to know the truth? Thankfully, there are options for you if you truly want to understand what is happening in the world and wish to avoid being part of the spread of disinformation.
FactCheck.org is doing an important work in combating fake news and disinformation. Their team of researchers tracks political speeches and ads, viral rumors and social media posts and focuses on claims that are widely circulating, politically influential or potentially false. They gather material, looking for primary sources and then analyze the context of what was said. They often look for what was omitted, whether statistics are reported accurately and if quotes are taken out of context. They are a great resource if you see a story circulating online and aren’t sure if it’s true or not.
While FactCheck.org focuses more on political statements, other types of rumors and disinformation abound on Social Media. Snopes is a great resource for these types of posts. Snopes avoids making a binary judgement of whether something is true/false, the actual reality is often more complicated. Instead, they use a rating system that includes options like – mostly true, mostly false, mixture, unproven, outdated.
Some disinformation that I encountered was hearing some of my friends express outrage that illegal immigrants are being given $5,000 VISA gift cards after crossing the border. It seemed so unbelievable and my friend was so confident that it was true, that I later spent some time researching to see if there was any truth to the claim. Every major fact checker found this claim false – while immigrants are sometimes helped by non-profit organizations, there was no evidence of the Federal Government handing out VISA gift cards.
Another source of disinformation that I and many others encountered was the claim that the 2020 election was “stolen”. Posts making these claims were widely shared over social media. After conducting some research, there was just no evidence of widespread “vote switching” by Dominion as so many people claimed.
I’m sure you’ve heard it said, “Bad news travels fast.” Sadly, false news travels even faster. Studies show that false news travels much faster than true news. This is largely due to the novelty factor. False news is often more novel than true news and people are much quicker to share novel information. The study showed that it took the truth six times longer to reach 1,500 people than false news. Bots are often thought to be a major spreader of fake news but the study found that while bots did spread false news, they also spread true news at the same rate. People, on the other hand, were 70% more likely to retweet false news than true news. https://ide.mit.edu/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/2017-IDE-Research-Brief-False-News.pdf
Let’s do our part to make sure that we are carefully evaluating the media that we read and listen to and judge carefully whether it is likely true or likely false. One of the best ways we can stop the awful virus of fake news is to simply stop sharing posts that are false or misleading.
Verify before you amplify!
Share with care, don’t spread hot air!
This post written for Assignment 4.4 Fact Check Blog, Media and Society(COM-329-01A), Indiana Wesleyan University
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
The founders of America were aware that a free people must have a free press, the right to information without having it first filtered and approved by the government. They believed that people were capable of receiving information and deciding for themselves whether this information was true and good. The founding fathers did not want the government to keep the press in line as was normal in countries led by dictactors or kings – they envisioned a country where a free press would prevent misbehaviour by the government and it’s officials.
Is this a good thing? Today, we have so much misinformation, disinformation and AI generated content swirling around us, we may ask the question – do I really want freedom of speech or do I want someone to make sure that the information that is published or posted is true?
What does free speech really mean – does it mean I can say anything that I want with no repercussions? If I’m working for the government and I go on Facebook and post an untrue rant against the current President, can I lose my job for that? What about if I work for a private company and I comment on a post about Charlie Kirk’s death – saying “good riddance” – can my boss fire me or is my speech protected? What if I’m a celebrity or political figure with millions of followers and I share a post encouraging violence against someone I disagree with, is my right to do that protected by the First Amendment? These are sticky questions!
Although hateful and offensive speech is generally protected, speech that is likely to cause imminent harm to someone is not. In addition, the first amendment does not apply to private employers and even for employees of the government, their speech may not be protected if it causes interference with their job duties.
A real world example of the debate around free speech and what is protected occurred in the aftermath of the Charlie Kirk assassination. While many mourned his death, some people shared or created posts expressing their lack of sorrow and even suggesting that he deserved what happened. These kind of posts are clearly protected against interference from government authorities but proved to not be protected in the context of employment and some of the posters lost their jobs. Karen Attiah, a writer for the Washington Post, was someone who disagreed with Charlie’s views and posted some negative things about him immediately after his death. She was fired from her position at the Washington Post immediately, receiving an email the following day informing her that she was being released for “gross misconduct”. She protested the firing as unfair and argued that as an opinion journalist, her job was to give her opinion on current events and that she should not be punished for doing that. However, this was a case of her speech not being protected by the First Amendment in the context of her employment and she experienced the very real consequence of losing her job due to her speech.
Just as there is debate around the freedoms of speech for individuals, there is also conflict around freedom of speech for the press. Within 8 years after the First Amendment was ratified, the Sedition Act of 1798 was passed. This law challenged the protection of the First Amendment and made it illegal to publish “false, scandalous and malacious writing” against the government or it’s officials. Some early founding fathers like Thomas Jefferson and James Madison did not like the law and argued it was in direct violation of the First Amendment. That law was immensely unpopular and soon expired and was not renewed, however there are certain areas of freedom of the press that are generally considered not protected under the First Amendment.
The most common may be libel or slander. This is publishing untrue and damaging information about an individual. Generally, to meet this standard it must be proven that the information published was false, the company that published the information knew it was false and still published the story with the intent to harm the individual in question.
Other speech that is not protected as freedom of the press may be obscenity, child pornography, information that is vital to national security and incitement to cause violence. The press has an enormous amount of freedom to post what they believe to be true and areas that are not covered are generally narrow and very specific.
However, there are many cases where the press has overstepped and been successfully sued for false or malicious reporting. A recent example is the case of Trump V. ABC News in 2024. An ABC news reporter made the claim that Trump had been found guilty for rape by multiple juries and Trump sued ABC for defamation. A judge refused to dismiss the case, stating that a reasonable jury could find that ABC had defamed Trump. However, the case was settled for 15 Million before going to trial. Although ABC did not technically lose this case, it is an example of the press experiencing a negative outcome for speech that went too far.
Understanding the history and limits of free speech help me to understand how the world around me operates. Knowing that speech is strongly protected and is generally not censored for being incorrect or out of context makes me aware that I’m responsible to analyze what I read and decide whether it makes sense and is likely to be true. It also helps me understand how my speech is protected and how it isn’t. I am free to post almost anything I want on social media without experiencing legal consequences but that does not mean that I may not experience other consequences like losing my job if I post something highly controversial. Although there are many problems with our media today and a flood of false information that sometimes seems overwhelming, I am still grateful for the protection of the First Amendment. I much prefer the issue of having to sort through lots of information, some of it not true rather than facing the issue of heavy government censure, in places like Iran, Russia, North Korea and China.
This post written for Assignment 2.4 First Amendment Blog, Media and Society(COM-329-01A), Indiana Wesleyan University
Hello everyone and welcome back to CICS! Time continues to pass quickly, in another 2 weeks this years school term will be half-way complete. In the last few months, we have enjoyed a week of vacation for Holy Week, been blessed with some visitors from the states (friends of Ranita’s) and have overcome sickness among students and staff. Last week, we cancelled school on Monday, then Tuesday and Wednesday had only one student, Thursday two students and Friday three students. We are almost whole again, Miguel continues to be sick and is still not back at school, please pray for him!
We have been really blessed to have Mariela Lima here this year, although she only speaks a little English, she gets along very well with the other staff, does a great job at her work and loves interacting with the students. She agreed to write her story of how she decided to come to CICS and a little about her work here. The following is her story, in her own words. (Translated from Spanish of course.)
My name is Mariela Lima, I am 18 years old. I am a country girl, I live near a volcano called Volcán Chingo (pictured above) and that volcano divides El Salvador and Guatemala. It’s very beautiful, I love my home!
19th Birthday!!
In the year 2020 the pastor of my church asked if I wanted to help teach in the little school that we have on behalf of the church in the same place where I live. After asking for God’s direction and talking to my parents I said yes, and that year something happened that no one expected (COVID). In the month of March, the government asked that the schools and all the churches be closed. It was very difficult because we could not go to school for some time.
In the year 2021 I continued teaching, thank God that year we were able to go to school every day. When we were close to finishing school I was thinking about the following year. What am I going to do? But God had a plan for me. October 27 was the closing day and I kind of sensed that something was going to happen, but I didn’t know what it was. The children had given me so much love and before having the closing program they hugged me like they already missed me. One of my students wondered, “But why are we not going to come to school anymore?” So I explained to her that she and the other children were going to rest for a few months and then the following year she would be able to go back to school. Leaving the church, after we had finished the closing program, I saw I had a message from a friend of mine. She was asking if she could recommend me for CICS. I think I did not answer the message right away, but I was excited. I had thought before that I would like to help at CICS, and I thought “Well, maybe this is my opportunity to go”, and I asked for God’s direction.
Now here I am helping and I still do not regret having come! Although sometimes it is a bit difficult because I am the only one who does not know English and the others are learning Spanish. I feel that it is one of the greatest blessings and opportunities that God has given me to be here in this place, helping as dorm mom (I wash the boys’ clothes, cleaning, etc.) What I like most about my job is that the boys are able to wear clean and ironed clothes every day. The time is almost here when we have clothes drying outside and we have to run to get them inside because it starts to rain.
Mariela and Deris hanging out wash
I want to tell a little story that happened one day. Edwin, who takes care of the children after they return from school, went to work with them. They were working in a place where there are trees and I imagine, tall weeds too. Edwin saw that there was a hive with bees and he hit the hive. Miguel saw it and ran away together with Edwin. Deris, another of the deaf boys, because he was the last one left behind, three bees stung him. By dinner time they were recounting the story. Being able to hear their laughter and see their joy, the atmosphere changes and I think that the others are also happy to see them with that joy.
I wish you could see Amy translating from English to Spanish and from Spanish to English, she is a very intelligent and pretty girl. Amy and Liam are such beautiful children, to see them supposedly talking on the phone at the table for lunch is such a cute thing, but actually they each have a glass to their ear.
No phones at the table!!
I love each one of these children, Amy and Liam, and all the deaf, they are very special people that God has placed in my life. Each child is different. A child who is deaf, is above all a child who, like any other child, loves, believes, thinks, plays, learns and also fights. He sees the world around him, interacts with it, represents it.
If you are reading this, I want us to never forget to give thanks to God for everything he does for each one of us. From these people who are deaf we can learn many things. And if you feel led to pray, you can pray for all the helpers of CICS that we always continue forward in the Christian life and continue helping in God’s work. May God help us day by day in our work and know how to relate to each other. Especially for the teachers, may God give them much wisdom to know how to treat each of the children. For the children, may they make an effort to obey and respect and learn a lot from their studies and that they can learn about God every day. Also for Keith and Melody, may God give them much wisdom in their work. God bless everyone who is reading this.
CICS has added a new family member for 2022. Joel Neftaly Villalobos Varela is a former student who had dropped out and declined to come to school last year. However, after working at a car wash for a year, he has had a change of heart and requested to come back to school. He is 15 years old, so we placed him in the class with Miguel and Jairo, with Kendall as his teacher.
Joel (pronounced “Hoe – el”) is very intelligent, memorizes his word lists with little effort and knows his math well. He could be an outstanding student if he would be willing to apply himself. Sadly, his home seems to be a rough-and-tumble place and Joel brings a bit of a swaggering arrogance and coarseness that prevents him from truly excelling at school.
At first, Joel communicated in a very forceful way, with lots of yelling, animated sound effects and gestures that were difficult to decipher. However, after a few weeks, he has learned that we are able to understand him just fine if he uses good sign language. He doesn’t need all the extra effects to communicate here at CICS. I am sure at home, where his family does not know sign language, the loud sound effects and forceful gestures ensure that he is not ignored by his family and at least partially understood.
Miguel is another student who comes to us from a less than ideal home. Raised by a collection of aunts, uncles and grandparents after being discarded by his mother, he often seems torn between two worlds.
On good days, he is bubbling over with energy, smiling ear-to-ear and laughing at funny stories, studying diligently at school and playing recess with a joyful abandon. In the afternoons, he is attacking his work with a vengeance in hopes of having some time to ride bikes or fly kites before supper. On bad days he is difficult from the start, being disruptive in class and then in the afternoons, rebelling against whatever job or instruction he is given to do.
Miguel sorting marbles with Amy’s “help”
Often when we talk to him about his bad behavior, he is remorseful, even tearful and promises to do better. We know there is tenderness inside Miguel because we see it in his deep brown eyes when he has done wrong and tears well up. We know it because of the tenderness he shows to Amy, being patient with her when she tries to help him or lifting her up to show her a birds nest with eggs in it. But most of all we know it is there, because God created Miguel and placed that softness inside him, just as he has in each of us.
But many days, it does not get better, and he seems to embrace his rebellious, dis-respectful side, refusing to allow goodness to triumph. Sadly, we have already had to suspend Miguel for 1 week due to his rebellious behavior. Unfortunately, the week he was suspended was the week we were planning to take a little trip to a Zoo in San Salvador, so he was not able to go.
Zoo day, what fun! The children are excited from the moment I pick them up in the morning and the anticipation only builds as we pull into the yard at CICS and see all the staff gathered by the front door, waiting our arrival. After everyone has used the bathroom and all the food and drinks for the day have been loaded into the van, we gather in a circle and ask God to bless our day and protect us on our adventure.
Then there is a scramble as 16 people pile into the 15 passenger van and everyone finds their seat and tries to secure a little legroom. On the hour long drive, the children and staff talk, play Uno and Go Fish and watch for interesting sights out of the windows. When we arrive at the zoo, everyone piles out of the van and staff and students are partnered up so that no one will get lost or left behind. After buying tickets, ($1 per person) we head to the entrance.
Trip to the Zoo!!
At the gate, the gruff security guard inspects Anthony’s backpack. He finds a bag of chips intended for a snack and denies us entrance. “It is forbidden to bring food into the zoo!” There is a bit of a scramble as chips, cookies and a few bananas intended for the monkeys are returned to the van.
At last we are in the zoo! The children run gleefully from cage to cage, looking at the lion, the tiger, the puma and the zebra. Sadly, Manjula passed away several years ago, so there is no elephant. We do see a water buffalo, some pretty spotted deer, a llama and some alligators. The zoo is practically empty and except for the staff wandering around and a few scattered visitors, we have the place almost to ourselves.
Anthony looks eagerly for his favorite animal, a fox, but although there is a cage marked “fox” no one is able to see the sly tricksters. The coyote is out and about and we see all kind of birds, including an emu. Finally, we find the highlight of the zoo, the monkeys!
While most of the other animals are in too small cages with more concrete than green grass, the monkeys live on a collection of islands in a small lake. They have a glorious life, swinging from tree to tree with no steel bars and wire fence to keep them in. Only their dis-taste for swimming keeps them caged. We sit on the benches across from the islands and spend more than an hour just watching them. Climbing, jumping, swinging, and hanging by their tails, they seem to be having so much fun. Then one monkey shrieks, hops up-and-down and seems to be pointing into the water. In an instant, he is joined by a dozen others, all shrieking excitedly and gesturing in a way that almost looks like sign language! It is not a sign that we know and we never do discover why they were so excited. Maybe they saw a fish?
Watching the monkeys
As a bonus, we were able to see multiple iguanas. They were not caged and seemed to be honored guests at the zoo, able to roam about as they pleased. One particularly large iguana enjoyed sunbathing on a rock wall directly beside the path. I don’t know if the iguana got any joy from the little shriek and sideways hop that happened when my hand almost brushed against him but I know the children certainly did. Although harmless, they do look quite scary, especially up close and personal.
The offending iguana
As always, please continue praying for the work here at CICS.
Kendall – for wisdom and energy as he teaches the older class, also that his stomach will adjust to the food of El Salvador
Ranita – for wisdom and energy as she teaches the younger students
Edwin – for wisdom and grace as he works with Miguel and Deris in the afternoons
Mariela – for patience as she is the only staff member who doesn’t speak English
Leticia – for endurance as she works on learning sign language and Spanish
Joel – for a soft heart and gentleness towards others
Miguel – that in the battle for his heart, evil will be defeated and goodness will reign
Jairo – to learn to apply himself diligently and to understand the evil and pain of a “gangster life”
Deris – to embrace his talents and not be caught up in being “cool” and “tough”
Anthony – that his heart remains soft and tender and that he understands his own value
Gabriela – that she can continue to find joy in coming to school as the lone girl among 5 boys.
Keith/Melody/Amy/Liam/Baby Yoder – Wisdom as we lead the work here, energy and joy even on the hot days, good health for Melody and the littlest Yoder.
Grace and Peace,
Keith Yoder, for CICS
Miguel fixing his bike, Deris working at planting some flowers, Amy looking at the tiger, Anthony posing with the iguana, Leticia being served her birthday cake.
2-1/2 months back in the states, Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday celebrations, multiple company banquets and a trip to CO for a New Years celebration and then we were saying our goodbyes and boarding the plane that would take us back to El Salvador for another year.
El Salvador in January is glorious, an endless succession of bright, clear blue-sky days in the 80’s with refreshingly cool nights in the 60’s. We arrived on a Thursday and indulged in El Salvador’s favorite food, pupusas, Friday night and then again Saturday night.
After settling in over the weekend, sweeping the dusty floors and cleaning up the cobwebs, Kendall and I head to Suchitoto to work on our Spanish. Beatrice and Norma are excellent teachers and patiently correct our poor accents and atrocious grammar while torturing us with ever more complicated verb forms. When my head is so full of conjugations and tenses and participles that bits of Spanish verbs start leaking out of my ears, Beatrice takes mercy on me and we chat (in Spanish of course). She tells me about a family in her community who has been orphaned by the gangs, the corruption of the Catholic church in El Salvador, how Islam has been brought into El Salvador by the president’s grandmother. Then we discuss favorite holiday foods, “pan con pollo” for her and pumpkin pie for me and compare holiday traditions in the US and El Salvador. The biggest difference we find is Salvadorians fascination with “bombas”, firecrackers that sound like grenades going off.
Every day after Spanish school, Kendall and I find a different spot to try out for lunch. On Monday, as we are walking, we spot a few “gringos” ordering lunch. We say hello and ask where they are from. We discover that we have multiple mutual friends and decide to join them for lunch. By the time we have eaten lunch together we are friends. They invite us to join them in their adventures for the rest of the day and Kendall decides to spend the afternoon with them. They explore a waterfall, get lost in the city, drink coffee at Cafe 1,200 on Boqueron volcano and then are kind enough to return Kendall to CICS in time to get some sleep before Tuesdays day of Spanish classes.
Saturday morning Mel and I and Amy and Liam along with Kendall, head into Apopa to purchase some supplies for the coming school year. After fighting through the normal Apopa traffic, we set off into “Plaza Mundo” a modern mall complete with numerous restaurants, clothing stores and much more.
As always, we have a very enjoyable time, as shopping is one of my favorite pastimes. Going from store to store to store looking for the things we need, finally finding what we are looking for, then waiting while the store sends someone to the far reaches of the mall to retrieve it from inventory is almost as fun as a visit to the dentist. Of course, the children behave perfectly as all 1 and 3 year olds do. Their legs don’t get tired, they dont’ beg for ice-cream at 10 AM in the morning and they don’t scream whenever their mom is out of sight for a few minutes. And they certainly don’t cry because they are so hungry, then eat 3 bites and decide they are full. Instacart, when are you coming to El Salvador?
The following Tuesday, the rest of the staff arrives and our little CICS family begins to feel more complete. Edwin Glick (ES) is senior staff this year. He is again embracing the responsibility of taking care of Miguel and Deris and caring for the CICS grounds, animals and vehicles. Tall, broad shouldered and blond, Edwin looks like a “gringo” but speaks Spanish as if he has lived in El Salvador his entire life, which he has.
Kendall Stoltzfus (WV) is teaching the older boys – Miguel, Jairo and possibly Joel. Kendall, dark-haired with a Latino style haircut, looks like he could belong here in El Salvador. His brain is working overtime, stretching and bulging with a deluge of Spanish and ASL. All the learning doesn’t seem to affect his enthusiasm and he is already talking about the things he wants to do and places he wants to see here in El Salvador.
Ranita Eby (PA) is teaching the younger students. The oldest of the staff group this year, she brings a quiet competence and added maturity. Although Spanish is new to her, she has been signing since she was a baby and is quite comfortable in ASL. Her students include Deris, Antony and Gabriela, an enthusiastic, intelligent and high-energy group.
Mariela Lemus (ES) is here to keep the house functioning properly, cleaning, washing and helping wherever she can. She is darker skinned than the rest of the group, the youngest of the staff at just 18 and speaks only a few words of English. None of that seems to affect her exuberant spirit and I often hear her patiently teaching proper Spanish pronunciation to the other staff then splitting with laughter at their (our) butchered rr’s, mis-placed emphasis and much too hard d’s.
Leticia Miller (OR) agreed to come at the last minute and take on the no easy task of cooking for our hungry group of staff and students. She has an uncanny ability to roll her rr’s like a native and when she figures out the rest of the sounds, she will be chattering away in Spanish. Even the hard work of cooking beans over an open fire does not sap her energy and in the evenings after supper, games of “futbol” or kick-the-can provide evening entertainment.
This week school begins and we are once again introduced to the 5 reasons for being here in El Salvador.
Miguel – A lanky 14 year old, stronger than his slender frame indicates, does not enjoy school work but loves to have a good time, a magician with a “futbol”, loves animals and is looking forward to taking care of a calf and some chickens this year.
Jairo – 14 years old like Miguel but quiet and a bit shy, quite good at his schoolwork when he cares to apply himself, prefers painting or drawing rather than hard work.
Deris – 11 years old, small in body but not in spirit, fiercely competitive and loves to learn, determined to keep up with the older boys at sports, riding bikes and general “coolness”. Enjoys games like Uno, connect-4 and memory and is always strategizing for an edge.
Antony – 11 years old, super friendly and loves people, helps his mom by going to the neighbors and selling snacks and trinkets, his expertise is not in sports and physical activity but in story-telling, soft-hearted and eager to please, always has a story to tell – if you don’t get it the first time, don’t worry, he’ll tell you again.
Gabriela – 11 years old, petite with dainty features, small size doesn’t stop her from outplaying some of the boys at futbol, very intelligent, explains things to the others when they don’t “get it” as quickly as she does, sweet natured and never causes trouble.
We are looking forward to an incredible year here in El Salvador in 2022. We expect lots of learning to happen, good relationships to be formed, an abundance of fun times and some hard times. We also anticipate quite a few visitors to CICS this year, so we are eagerly looking forward to that as well.
Grace and Peace,
Keith Yoder for CICS
Playing “Swat” is a good way to learn each others sign names
Welcome back to CICS, where school is back to normal once again. After a year of having so many disruptions, what a blessing to just be able to do “normal things” like have students at school during the school year.
Our week starts with me heading out at 5 AM on Monday morning to pick up Miguel and Deris, the two boys who board here during the week. After dropping them off at school in time for 7 AM breakfast, I head back out the bumpy lane to pick up the four remaining students who live close enough to go home every day. The goal is to be back at school by 8 AM so classes can start right on time.
From 8 AM to 12 Noon, the children study faithfully. Their studies include ASL (sign language), Spanish (although they communicate and think in ASL, it is important that they learn to read and write Spanish to communicate with people who don’t know ASL), Math and some Social Studies and Science.
Deris, practicing his signing with “Are you my Mother?”
Of course, there is time for recess but before they can play, they first collect all the mangos that dropped overnight from the gigantic tree in front of the schoolhouse. Everyone eats as many as they want and even take bags of them home and still there is often a wheelbarrow full that simply need to be dumped away because they spoil before they can be eaten.
Eating one of our many, many mangos.
At lunchtime, Mel and I join the students and staff for lunch. No packed lunches at CICS, everyone gets a delicious hot meal, often some combination of rice, beans, chicken or pork, fresh avocados or guacamole, and always, always tortillas, made fresh and delivered daily. Desert is sometimes “postre” but the fruit here is so good, some combination of pineapples, watermelon, cantaloupe or papaya is often more than sufficient.
Perhaps you imagine meal times at a deaf school to be silent affairs, with everyone eating diligently and no free hands for signing. You would be wrong. Even though the children cannot hear, their ability to make noise is not hampered in the least. They yell when someone bothers them, shriek with laughter when someone tells a funny story and pound the table for no reason at all. Hands are flying as everyone discusses what happened that day at school and what funny things their classmates did.
After lunch there is much clatter and commotion as everyone helps clear the tables, wash the dishes and put the kitchen in order. Those who finish first gather on the back porch and play Uno or Connect Four or Spot-It until everyone is finished and it is time to gather in the chapel for devotions.
Telling bible stories in sign language can be challenging, especially when the older children have heard the same stories many times and the younger children may not know all the signs, causing them to miss part of the story. However, simple visual aids such as wearing a hat or coat for different characters as well as much expression and dramatic gestures makes the stories more memorable. Offering small prizes for the students who can remember and recite the story the next day is a new idea that we hope will improve wandering attention spans and sleepiness.(Full stomachs and afternoon heat do not contribute to attentiveness.)
In an effort to strengthen staff/student relationships and improve everyone’s sign language skills, after devotions we spend about 15 minutes playing a game that requires some communication. Sometimes it’s simple games like Swat or Upset the Fruit Basket. You really have to pay attention when names or fruits are signed rather than called out.
“Tell it Down the Lane” is lots of fun. We divide into 2 teams, who stand in a line. Everyone turns their back except for the 2 people at the end of the line. The gamemaster gives them each a simple phrase, they turn around, tap the next person in line and sign the phrase to them and so on down the line. The goal is to get the completed, correct phrase to the end of your line and signed back to the gamemaster before the other team. This leads to lots of funny, mixed-up phrases such as “the banana gave birth”. To be fair, the sign for an elephant and giving birth are somewhat similar.
Finally, the day is done and the students are ready to head home, usually around 2 PM. Friday afternoon all the students load into the van and after taking the regular students home, we head into the hills to take Deris and Miguel home for the weekend.
In our family, a new member has been added. Meesh is a gangly, orange and white boy-cat who believes himself to be a full-fledged member of the Yoder family. I consider him still on proving and he’s really on some shaky ground, perhaps even headed down that “slippery slope”. His good points are many. He’s friendly, funny, fluffy and quite patient with being manhandled by Liam and Amy, who adore him.
He’s a very patient cat.
On the other side of the ledger, there is one glaring fault. He loves coming into the house, which is where I live. He cannot be down in the yard because we have 2 dogs who are quite fond of cats in the same way I’m fond of chocolate-covered strawberries. However, we have two large beautiful covered porches where we spend much of our time. This is just not good enough for Meesh. He insists on dashing inside every time a door is left open and if there are no open doors, no problem, he pops right through one of the many open windows. (And no we can’t keep them closed, we would suffocate from the heat.)
He’s unhappy that we don’t leave the door open for him and he’s forced to humble himself and crawl through a window.
Now even this could possibly be tolerated, as we live in a house with all tile floors and Meesh is quite good about only using the restroom in approved locations. It could be tolerated, IF Meesh would remember his place as the lowest member of the household and stay on the floor where a good cat belongs. But oh no, the floor is not sufficient for His Highness. He has to lay on the couch, on a kitchen chair, Amy’s bed, and the ultimate transgression, my bed. (Don’t even ask about the time he came in our bedroom window and landed on our bed at 3 AM, let’s just say Blackie and Moki very nearly got a midnight snack.) And does he lay there humbly and a bit nervously, acknowledging that he has overstepped his position and pleading for mercy? Not in the least. There is a certain aristocratic smugness about him, as if he was born royalty and everyone else only peasants. He stretches out to sleep with possessiveness as if he personally purchased this place and we exist only to serve him.
Note how smugly he sleeps
Time will tell if Meesh is here to stay, but already I suspect I may have a mutiny on my hands if I attempt to revoke his Yoder family membership. 2 year olds may look harmless but they are tough negotiators. Big brown eyes and trembly lips give them an unfair advantage.
Oh, about the name, apparently Spanish cats don’t know to come when you call, “kitty, kitty, kitty”, they only respond to “meesh, meesh, meesh.” So of course we called him Meesh. Not that it matters, because His Highness doesn’t come no matter what or how we call, we’re expected to go to him if we need something.
For whosover exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. Luke 14:11
Does God’s word apply to cats? I don’t know, but even cats surely have lessons they can teach us.
Hello readers, I hope you enjoy the following story. It is not regarding our lives here in El Salvador but it was my next life-altering moment after being born again in “Redeemed”
The graveyard was deathly still. The only sound was the thump-thump-thump of my heart and my shallow, nervous breathing. I wanted to speak but could not. My heart was pounding out of my chest and into my throat until I couldn’t speak a word. Never in my life had there been five words that I wanted to say more than I did at that moment but they would not come.
My girlfriend’s birthday started off all wrong. I had come into work early and set up a beautiful bouquet of flowers and some chocolates on her desk. She was, of course, delighted with my thoughtfulness. I was feeling like the world’s best boyfriend, until I noticed a familiar looking paper on her desk. My heart stopped beating, my stomach turned inside out and cold sweat broke out all over my body. With maximum casualness, I swiped the offending paper, offering up a prayer that she had not seen it as I headed to my office.
Lunch time came quickly and Melody and I headed out the door for the promised birthday lunch. El Salvadorian food was her favorite and we made short work of the steaming hot pupusas and ice-cold fresca. I looked across the table into her soft brown eyes and my heart skipped a beat. “Why don’t we head to down-town and walk for a while? I arranged to have someone cover for both of us at work this afternoon.”
Her face lit up with joy and I hoped the big smile was due to being able to spend the afternoon with me and not just relief for an early day off at work.
Arm in arm, we meandered the lovely cobblestone streets. I maintained a casual carefreeness and carried my end of the conversation. My mind was racing ahead, almost as fast as my heart was beating. No matter how hard I looked and how far we walked, the perfect spot would not appear. “How about we walk through the old graveyard that we’ve been wanting to explore?”
“Sure, that would be fun. It’s such a beautiful evening, it would be a shame to spend it inside.”
We wondered down the tree lined paths in the historic graveyard, reading the gravestones and imagining the lives and deaths of the soldiers buried there. I looked desperately for a bench or anywhere to sit but nothing appeared. In desperation I scanned the gravestones, looking for one that was sufficiently sized for two people to sit on. The beautiful memorial to the unknown soldiers of the Civil War came to my rescue. Placed on top of a grassy knoll, its wide stone steps provided a perfect place to sit down and watch the setting sun.
We settled down on the steps and chatted about our day. The small talk became entirely one-sided as my tongue refused to function properly, no doubt disturbed by my wild, out-of-control, beating heart. Unable to converse with herself, Melody fell silent. I struggled to gather my courage and say what I so desperately wanted to say but it was like gathering water in a net. Melody yawned and murmured, “I’m starting to get a little sleepy. I think I could fall asleep right here.”
Gathering what little courage I could summon, I jumped to my feet and turned around to face her. As I sunk down to one knee, I pulled a little black box out of my pocket, opened the lid and held it out to her. “Melody, will you marry me?”
There was a long pause.
“I’m not sure how to answer that.”
My racing heart stopped cold for the second time that day.
“Yes would be great,” I managed to choke out.
“Of course, I’d be honored to marry you! I just thought ‘yes’ seemed like such a trite answer to such an incredible question.” She took the ring and slipped it on. It was a perfect fit.
Relief flooded through every part of my body as I took her in my arms and held her. In that moment, I was the happiest man on earth. The most incredible girl in the world was not only willing, but honored, to spend the rest of her life with me.
I had to ask, though I was afraid of the answer. “Did you see the receipt for the ring that I left on your desk this morning?”
“I saw it.”
“So, this whole time, you knew I was going to ask you to marry me and you just played dumb?”
“I didn’t want to mess up the perfect date you had planned. Besides, I didn’t know exactly when you were going to ask me, so it was still a surprise.”
Now I knew for sure that not only was I getting married to the most beautiful girl in the world but the one with the kindest heart as well.
Note of clarification – Mel and I are members at a church that does not wear jewelry/wedding rings and she does not wear the ring. However, it just didn’t seem right to go down on one knee and ask this beautiful girl to marry me without a ring. Thus the saga of the wedding ring and the misplaced receipt.
How many sounds do you hear in a day? Slamming doors, ringing telephone, cries from an unhappy baby. The cheerful chatter of your children. Questions from an employee or instructions from a boss. Tender words from someone who loves you. Music that lifts your spirits on a dreary day.
Their world is silent. They do not hear the loving words of a mother, the strong voice of a father, the joyful shouts of their friends. The cacophony of the market, the rumble of traffic, the bulla (boo-ya) of a large, loud family are only silence.
They climb eagerly into the van, faces shining from their morning scrubbing. Eager chatter is replaced by eye contact and motions made with their hands. We sign “good morning” to each other, then they settle in the van for the quiet ride to school. As more of their friends are picked up, I catch glimpses of them in the mirror, hands flying, as they chat.
When we arrive, they pile out of the van, eager to greet their teachers. The usual chatter of a group of children right before school is exchanged for smiles, eye contact and signs. They are eager to learn, eager to help, eager to contribute.
In El Salvador, deafness is often considered synonymous with low-intelligence. As a result, deaf children are a shame to their parents, expected to contribute little. Their silent world imprisons them, and as a result, they can seem “simple” not because they have a low IQ but because they have never learned the things that hearing children learn.
As for our students, it doesn’t take long to see that their handicap is in their ears, not their brains. When I forget to pick up his friend, Jairo (Hy-do) emphatically reminds me. And when we pull up to his house and no one is there, he tells me to go knock on the door. Sadly, 12 year old Joel (Ho-el) does not come, his mother tells us he has a job at a car wash and would rather work then come to school. When we stop at the car wash and attempt to talk to him, he shrugs his shoulders and points to his boss as if to say, “I’m his now”.
When I am about to make a wrong turn onto a busy street, Paula is paying attention and shakes her head and points the other direction. When I bring Amy along a few times to take the students home, Paula brings a book with lots of pictures and patiently teaches Amy some signs.
Anna, a former student, shows up at church on Sunday. We invite her home for lunch and she readily accepts. Her and Mel talk the whole way home, their hands flying. Anna tells us that she was curious about the new directors at CICS,(us) so she bussed from her home in Apopa to attend church this morning. Her weeks are busy, she works at a sewing factory from 7 – 7 during the week and cares for her ailing mother on the weekends.
After only 2 weeks of school, the question of what are we doing here in El Salvador has become clear. We are here to break down that prison of silence that surrounds each deaf child and make it possible for them to communicate. With signs, they can have meaningful conversations with other deaf people or anyone who knows sign language. If they learn to write, they can communicate accurately if slowly with almost anyone. As they learn to read, an entire world opens up through books and stories.
How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?
Romans 10:14
And in the case of the deaf, perhaps we could add, And how shall they hear unless they are taught?
Hello readers, this is not an update of life in El Salvador. Instead, it is my testimony, written for a creative writing class that I took several years ago. I trust it can be of value.
I am driving when my friend texts me – You need to listen to Toby Mac’s new song, “Love Broke Through.” I click the link in the text and music pours out of the speakers –
It was just another summer night
Had to be the last thing on my mind
When love broke thru
You found me in the darkness
Wanderin’ thru the desert
I was a hopeless fool
My eyes fill with tears. Instead of the road and the oncoming traffic, I see a group of young people sitting around a campfire, deep in the mountains of WV. My mind goes back to that warm summer night, August 28, 2015.
When I headed out on our yearly camping trip with my youth group, I had no idea that this weekend would change my life forever. I had no idea that a battle was being waged for my soul. Playing softball and volleyball and eating lots of good food was all I saw in my immediate future. Yet as I sat in my camping chair around 9:00 that night, I suddenly became aware of what my life really was and the choice that had to be made. I didn’t notice the cool, still night or see the stars, glowing as though the lights of heaven spilled out of a million windows. I didn’t hear the crackling fire or the soft talk and laughter of the young people sitting around me.
My entire being is consumed with the battle raging inside my soul and mind. I am consumed with the choice I have to make. Everything that is natural and human screams to say nothing, to do nothing, and to go on with my life as it has always been. My pride, my arrogance and my selfish nature cry out that everything is ok; no decision has to be made. Deep inside, beneath the shallow veneer that I present the world, even beneath the young man that my friends know, a voice demands that tonight a choice be made. Tonight, you must choose, He whispers. Will you continue to live for you and your pleasure alone, or will you submit to the will of your Creator and Redeemer?
My breath comes with difficulty, my stomach tightens and churns until I think I need to puke. The deliciously salty, homemade, Chex-mix that I’m eating turns to dust in my mouth and refuses to be swallowed. I set the container down, unable to take one more bite. I’m glad for the darkness, glad that my friends cannot see the turmoil racking my soul. The activity for the evening is share time; each of us young people take a few minutes to share what is on our heart and a struggle or two we may be encountering. My turn comes all too soon and there is no more delay, no more putting off the decision that has to be made.
With a shaky voice, I croak, “I’ve got something hard to say to everyone here but I don’t have the strength to say it. Will you pray for me?” Immediately, several of my closest friends jump up, put their hands on my shoulders and pray for me. As they sit back down, the words that stuck in my throat now began to come out, reluctantly, haltingly, but with absolute sincerity.
In a voice full of shame and fear, I pour out everything that I have been hiding for so long. “This is so hard for me to say because I feel like you guys look up to me and respect me. But I can’t keep hiding anymore and I want to tell you the truth. I’m not a Christian and I haven’t been for at least the last 5 years. I’m addicted to pornography. I sneak away and watch the dirtiest movies I can find. I don’t read my Bible or pray. I’ve lied to you guys, my parents and everyone around me. Tonight, I want to say I’m sorry and I really do want to follow Jesus.”
I did all that I could to undo me
But You loved me enough to pursue me
As the song continues to play on repeat, I think back to when I was 15 and afraid that I was going to Hell. I called for my mom and together we prayed the sinner’s prayer and I felt at peace and happy. Three years later, I was 18 and the things of God seemed far less important than all the good things the world had to offer. Appearances were kept up for my parents’ and friends’ sake but I quit trying to do what was right and only did the things that I wanted to do. In the 5 years that followed, I became a master hypocrite and adept at sounding spiritual and religious.
As the road hums beneath my tires, I return to the warm summer night around the campfire.
Silence follows my confession. I wait for condemnation from my peers, for shocked gasps or murmured words of disappointment. Instead, my friends once again jump up and prepare to pray for me. One of the youth leaders speaks up. “What Keith is asking for is a serious thing. Before we pray for him, each one of us needs to make sure we are right with God.” One by one, the young men clear their lives, publicly confessing anything that would separate them from God.
I kneel and the young men surround me, lay their hands on me and begin to pray. As they pray, an overwhelming sorrow floods me and I begin to cry with the torturous, racking sobs of a soul in torment. As I sob and tears stream down my face, my body begins to shake violently and I gasp for air. It feels as though I am unable to draw enough air into my lungs to breathe. My hand flails to find something solid and clutches the leg of a picnic table. I feel that if I let go, I will be flung out of the circle into the darkness. “It has to come out; it has to come out,” I gasp.
As my friends begin to realize what is happening, they pray for specific sins in my life. Each time they pray, I shake violently, choking and gagging until whatever is inside of me is forced out. The choking and gagging sounds become almost unbearable for some of the girls, who have remained around the campfire, singing and praying. They leave the fire for a while to get away from the awful noise. Later they tell me that although many of them spent time alone praying in the darkness, no one felt any fear. Even as the night becomes stranger and the forces of evil stronger, a sense of peace remains.
For what seems to be an eternity, I shake, gag, choke and then sag in relief until the whole cycle starts over again. CRASH! And then again, CRASH! Trees falling in the woods? The night is still, there is no wind.
Eventually, it seems as if there is no more progress being made, no matter how earnestly the young men around me lift their voices in prayer. Suddenly, I feel as if I have to get lower.
My friends are packed so closely around me I am forced to shove them back so I can get flat on my face. As I lay there, words began to come out of my mouth. Words that I don’t want to say, saying things that I have no way of knowing. “The demon of pride is still inside. You cast out the demons of pornography and lust but the demon of pride is too strong. It will not come out. The only way the demon of pride will leave is if the angel of God, Gabriel, will come and drive him out.”
I know with certainty that Gabriel is standing at the right hand of God, waiting to come and drive out the demon of pride. Something is holding him back. Suddenly, inexplicably I know what it is. God is speaking directly into my mind and my spirit recoils. I cry out “Why me God? Why not one of these other young men who have been faithfully following you? Why do you choose to speak to me?”
My mind returns to the reason that Gabriel will not come, and I say out loud “I know why God won’t send Gabriel to defeat this demon of pride.” Then my rational mind engages, and I think, This is crazy. God doesn’t speak to people this way. I can’t know these things. I’m going crazy. I clamp my mouth shut and refuse to say more. My friends beg me to say the things that are bursting inside of me, but I refuse. Suddenly as though someone physically jerked my jaw apart, my mouth opens and words come tumbling out, “I know why Gabriel can’t come. There is someone here tonight that needs to accept Jesus and until he does Gabriel will not come.”
A soul is won for the Kingdom and even though the place where I am laying on the floor is some distance from where the conversion took place, I instantly know it has happened. Someone comes to tell me and before they have a chance to speak, I say, “He accepted Jesus, Gabriel can come”. Even as I speak, I know that Gabriel has arrived. The instant he arrives I feel the demon of pride leave. The other demons fought hard to stay inside and their leaving was very physical. It had felt as though my insides were being torn out. Pride leaves without a struggle. The simple presence of the angel is enough.
You were there, You heard my prayer in that broke down dusty room
It was the first time I said I’m Yours
The first time I called You Lord
Toby Mac’s voice continues to pour out of the speakers and I remember when Jesus heard my prayer. When I said, “I’m Yours.” When I called Him, “Lord.”
I stand up and glance around. It is 1:30 AM. My friends are staring at me awkwardly. We don’t know what to say. Finally, someone asks me, “How do you feel?”
“Empty, incredibly empty. I thought I would feel Jesus inside of me, but I don’t feel anything.”
“Jesus does not force himself on us. He only comes if we ask him. Do you want to ask him into your life?”
Numbly, I kneel beside the fire, my head resting on a camping chair. Three of my friends remain beside me; the others leave to give me space and privacy to make this decision.
As I pray, my words feel forced and unfeeling. I stop, unsure of how to proceed.
T says softly, “Keith, ask Jesus how he felt about all the things you did.”
So, I ask Him. “Jesus, how did it make You feel when I watched pornography and masturbated? How did it make You feel when I lied and lived like a hypocrite?”
Immediately, I see Jesus in my mind. He is weeping, the tears pouring from His eyes and running down His face. I cry now, and it is not a pretty sight. Tears and snot run down my face. I press my head into the fabric of the chair.
Quietly T tells me, “Keith, ask Jesus if He still loves you.”
Again, I see Jesus in my mind. This time He is standing, looking at me with His arms wide open. He says, Of course I still love you. I made you and I died for you.
The sobs come even harder now. I cannot understand why an eternal, all-powerful God would love me and desire to have a relationship with me after everything that I have done.
T prays, “Jesus, please bring something to Keith’s mind that will give him peace.”
The verse flashes into my mind, “Greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.”
Again, T prays, “Jesus, please bring something to Keith’s mind that will give him peace.”
A scene becomes clear in my mind. There is a group of angels, surrounding a lamb. The lead angel is carrying a trumpet. Somehow, I know that I am the lamb and that if we are attacked the angel will blow on his trumpet and the very hosts of heaven will be there to help us.
Again, T prays, “Jesus, please bring one more picture to Keith’s mind that will give him peace.”
This time, I see my heart as the coldest, hardest stone you can imagine. The events of the past few hours have left it broken and crushed into a million pieces. I am in the middle of the pieces, frantically trying to put everything back together. Jesus walks up behind me. He puts His hand on my arm until I am still. Then He kneels beside me and He works on putting my heart back together. As He works, He is looking at a picture on the wall of what He wants my heart to look like. It is simply a big, red, soft, heart-shaped heart.
I stand up. It is 2:30 AM. I am no longer crying. I feel the most incredible peace that I have ever known. It fills me and I feel warm, safe, protected and loved. I know without question that Jesus is inside of me. I hug my friends, thank them for sticking with me and head to bed. Sleep comes quickly, and I do not awaken until morning.
Now I’m hopelessly devoted
My chains are broken
And it all began with You
When love broke thru
When love broke thruuuuuu
As the music fades, I return to the present. I make a mental note to thank my friend for sending me the link to “Love Broke Through.” The song has spoken to my soul and reminded me of the incredible love and power of the God that I now serve.
I am thankful for the reminder because sometimes I am tempted to forget what happened to me, to pretend I imagined all of it. Demons are popular in movies and pop culture in America but everyone knows that they are not real. They don’t actually live inside of people and cause them to do evil things.
My friends remind me that it was real. More than 20 people experienced this night with me. They heard the crashing in the woods. They saw the agony my body went through as the demons were forced out. Their prayers are the reason I could experience what I did.
Even if I would have experienced this alone, I could not have denied the power of God at work. In one night, I was transformed from a young man addicted to pornography to someone who has never looked at pornography again. In one night, my priorities, my reasons for living, my goals, my dreams and my ambitions all changed. Instead of guilt and shame, there is peace and hope. Instead of condemnation, there is love. Instead of fear, there is confidence. I have been REDEEMED.
Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son. Colossians 1:13 - KJV
Learning a new language is hard. For all those people who say, “English is one of the hardest languages and Spanish is an easy language to learn” – I would like to present the following evidence.
IR – to go – this is one of the more common verbs in Spanish, I will break it down for you.
Voy – I go
Vas – you go (informal)
Va – you go (formal)
Vamos – we go
Van – they go
Fui – I went
Fuiste – you went (informal)
Fue – you went (formal)
Fuimos – we went
Fueron – they went
Iba – I have gone
Ibas – you have gone (informal)
Iba – you have gone (formal)
Ibamos – we have gone
Iban – They have gone
Ire – I will go
Iras – you will go (informal
Ira – you will go (formal)
Iremos – we will go
Iran – They will go
Ve – you go (informal – command)
Vaya – you go (formal – command)
Vayan – they go (command)
Yendo – am going
I hope you are still with me, if so, there might be some hope for you to learn Spanish. Just to be clear, this is only the most basic conjugation, the bare minimum for being able to speak conversational Spanish. There are many additional tenses and forms that need to be learned to speak, “like a native”.
When I left for my first day of Spanish School, I felt like my biggest obstacle would be the drive. A 45 minute drive one-way in the VAN while dodging buses, sugarcane trucks, other drivers who think they are in the Indy 500 and the ever present cows, chickens and dogs on the road. All of these were very real obstacles. The buses own the road and make way for no one. The trucks, heavily loaded with sugarcane, treat the road as their private highway. And this particular stretch of road is known for being used as a cow path, the locals call it something that translates roughly into “The Long, Narrow Barnyard”.
Surprisingly, my #1 enemy was none of the above, instead it was these innocent looking bumps in the road called “Tumulos”. I suppose in the states we would call them speed bumps. Here in El Salvador, they are fiendishly deployed at key places along the road and often camouflaged by faded paint and no warning signs. To the unsuspecting “gringo” driver they can be quite unpleasant. Driving along smoothly, eyes alert for buses or stray cows, a nice straight stretch of road, able to build a little speed and confidence. Then, WHAM, teeth rattling, knees banging the dash, stomach clenched and heart lurching. TUMULO!!
Even worse is when after a week of driving the road twice a day, you are starting to feel like you are doing pretty well. You and the van are old friends by now. You are cruising along in 4th gear when you see a rooster crossing the road. You smoothly drop a gear, brake a little and swerve slightly to avoid hitting it. After all that, it’s still pretty close so you glance in your mirror to make sure he survived. Sure enough, he’s alive and well but missing a few tail feathers. Chuckling at the sight of him squawking and scrambling out of the way, you turn your attention back to the road. TUMULO!!! O well, teeth were due for a good rattling anyway.
And yet, even tumulos are not my greatest struggle. That would be the Spanish verb, in all it’s forms and tenses. I enjoyed school and I still enjoy reading and learning new things but nothing I have ever done has prepared me for the rigors of learning a new language. I sit in church and concentrate with every fiber in my body and comprehend anywhere from about zero to 75% of what is being said. It’s like being on a phone call with someone who has bad service and you only get bits and pieces of the conversation.
The lessons were hard but the view was wonderful.
Learning a new language is teaching me more than just another language. I am learning that communication is not the same as intelligence. So often, I have judged other’s intelligence by their ability to communicate with me in my language. I am learning to be more patient when others don’t understand. I can be impatient when someone doesn’t “get it” the first time but now I’m the one not “getting it”. I am learning that learning a language is far more than just memorizing the definitions of words. Sometimes, I can read a sentence in Spanish and understand every word but still have no idea what it is saying. Different languages have different rhythms and different combinations of words that can mean many things other than the dictionary definition of the words.
Fortunately, not all my time is spent studying Spanish. Last Wednesday evening after church(evening services here begin at 4 PM), we headed into Aguilares for pupusas. David led us to a hidden jewel on the edge of town. La Toma was an old railroad station, now repurposed into a small park. Various vendors hawk their wares around its edges. At one, short, smiling ladies with slightly smudged aprons are busy patting out pupusas and frying them to a delicious golden brown. At another, a sort of nachos are being served in half pineapples and at another, skewers of frozen fruit coated in chocolate.
The center of the park consists of small paths, winding around bright green bushes and colorful flowers. The paths lead to Amy’s favorite part of the park, a bright blue and yellow playhouse with an uncomfortably steep slide and a small swing. As darkness softly settles over the park, other young couples wander the paths and children run and play on the slide. If not for the small pickup truck driving around with a bullhorn blasting Spanish advertisements at an obscene volume, it could be any park in the US on a warm summer evening.
Amy loved the slide and swings
We look forward to getting to know the remaining staff of CICS as everyone is due to be here March 1 and 2, with a start date for school finally set for March 8. It has been much delayed due to Covid, normally school here starts in early February.
The extra time has allowed some projects to happen, including finishing out four bathrooms with tile, trimming back trees from the power line, grinding up coconut shells for mulch and repainting the school house from a dull orange to a dark blue.
Trimming Trees
Now as I sit here and write, we are at a beautiful little AirBnB in the little beach/surf town of El Tunco. Yesterday, February 25 was our 4th anniversary and this little trip is in celebration of 4 incredible years together. Yesterday, we ate lunch overlooking the ocean while watching the surfers conquer the thundering waves, then enjoyed supper as we watched the sun sink slowly into the Pacific. God has been so good to us, first bringing Mel and I together, then bringing Amy and Liam into our lives and now leading us to El Salvador. We eagerly await what the next years will bring.
I will extol thee, my God, O King; and I will bless thy name for ever and ever. Psalm 145:1
Learning From Adventures 