POST by RENZY: This Cat has NINE Lives

We just got a new little kitty cat. She is so cute and a friend gave it to us. The friend that gave her to us is named Sabrina. Her cat had three little kittens and so she decided to give us one, keep one, and give the other one away. She originally gave it to Fran because Fran is one of her really good friends and we were going to get a cat anyway because of the mice problems that we have. 

She is gray and very soft. Her eyes are a dark green and they are sort of scary but they can look so cute at times. My family love to play with her because she is tiny, cute, fun to play with and she loves to have attention.

Although Sabrina gave the cat to Fran, Fran gave it to me because all my other siblings either have a dog or a bird, plus a horse. I only have a horse so that is why she is mine. Now that I have a cat and a horse I have two animals just like my brothers and sister but I also have more work to do.

I named my cat Tiger because Fran suggested it and I could not think of anything else to call it. I guess she suggested it because she sort of looks like a tiger, besides the color of her. I was going to call her "river" because she is sort of blue, but mainly gray, however I remembered that in Australia I had a rabbit that I called "River" and I don’t know what happened to her. So her name is Tiger and I like it but I don’t normally call her by her name. I just say whatever is in my mind.

She sleeps in my room at night but I don’t think she really sleeps as much as I thought she would and I found that out on the first night I was with her. So I had gotten a shower, jumped into my pajamas, brushed my teeth and hair, got the cat from where she was having what she called fun, hopped into bed and put the cat on her bed.

The cats’ so called bed is actually just a plain black small cushion on the floor next to my bed. It is sort of soft and nobody ever really uses it so it is the perfect thing… or so I thought. 

Once I was in a comfortable spot, I shut my eyes to go to sleep. Suddenly I felt something weird, so I opened my eyes but saw nothing, and so I closed my eyes again. 

Wait on a second, because I don’t want to read and correct this story type-thing again, I will just tell you now that my gardener and parents just told me that "she" is acually a "he". So all I said about him being a girl, well he’s not, so back to the story.

So I was drifting off into a dream when suddenly I felt four little, cold, soft, squishy paws walk right across my forehead. I opened my eyes, grabbed him and put back on his black, little cushion. 

A few minutes later I was sort of awake but mainly asleep when I was woken again by the same hideous creature, only this time he was biting my toes. His little jaw was in my toe. It didn’t hurt that much because he is still small so he can’t bite as hard. Again I grabbed him and put him on his bed.

This time I fell asleep pretty much straight away because I was getting tired. Once again I was awakened by little Tiger. He was doing the same thing only he was doing it to my fingers. 

I was getting tired of him doing this and not letting me sleep, so this time I sort of tossed him and I don’t know if he even landed on his bed or next to it. I fell straight to sleep that time and didn’t want to wake up again. The last time he did it was when he was half way in my shirt and biting the ends of it, making little pieces of thread go everywhere under my covers. 

I was so tired and so cranky that I didn’t care what would happen. I even thought about throwing him across the room. That was what happened on the first night with our new cat.

Blog by LIZ: Matthew 25:35-40

^{"The smallest of deeds are worth far more}

^{than the grandest intensions"}

 

^{Okay, so it's not actually a "blog entry" this week from me, just a scripture that I LOVE and want to live out daily... Blessings to all of you who serve our awesome GOD x Liz x}

³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶ I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

   ³⁷ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
   ⁴⁰ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

POST by JED: Things that Make You Go Mmmm...

We were in the market for 6 hours. Every penny counts now. We’ve stepped out in faith and it’s been 4 months on our own. (… though with the faithful support of our Church, family and many friends – we´re only “on our own” in the sense that we´re far from many of the people who matter so much to us…) So far, so good! The money is tight, but that just leaves more room for God to move – do I hear an Amen?

Liz has the guy pressed up against the congas. The stall is dark, smells of instruments, and is cluttered with many musical machines. His jeans are too tight, and the buttons on his shirt are about to pop off and kill someone. He has crocadilly shoes on and a Catholic neck adornment. He’s fair, but Liz is out for a bargain, so he’s not going to get out alive, unless he gives in. He won’t and neither will she.

Now Nicaraguans, I have learnt (though Liz hasn’t quite, or won´t allow herself to), just don’t like to bargain. They don’t get it. They think we’re rude. (and clearly we are) As soon as you mention a price that is lower than theirs, they look away - a bit disgusted. They start muttering to themselves.

I tend to turn haggling into a bit of a circus and try to get them laughing. (which trust me, with Nicas isn’t hard) Usually I´m in such a giggly mood by the time I´m done with them that I´ve talked their price up, instead of down. Liz likes to talk it through. It takes a while, but she gets results.

And so on this occasion, I start to spin, uncomfortable with Liz’s directness. “Oh, how delightful… A lampshade made from used mop strings. Yes thanks, I´ll have 5 of the delightful little treasures.” Elizabeth seals the deal, and we have ourselves a new sound system, and 5 horrendous light fixtures.

Raffy has sweat beads on his forehead and I´m ready to strangle Sez with my new interior décor due to his incessant requests for a DS, X-box, or Apple I-Touch (I really have NO idea what any of those things are, the names of these objects are stored in my brain for witty moments like these).

Eduardo, our youth pastor, introduces us to an evangelist and his side-kick (they do that here… It´s kind of Mormonish but I´m used to it now). I learn that they will be talking at our Church tonight. I look them up and down. They are in their early twenties, strong young Nicas, of light complexion and fairly handsome. It´s unusual for our local Church´s “branding”. We usually get older types who tend to like the sound of their own voice.

“Good”, I think to myself. They´re young and look green. The service will be over in as quick-as-a-flash and I can get home for the ever-impending to-do-list.

I shake their hands and start pushing Sez along the 6 inch wide aisle, which leads to an 8 inch wide aisle, and then a 10 inch aisle. Of course, this whole time there are 2 lanes of traffic, which are heading in both directions.

I find myself continuously apologising for my unruly elbow/hands/feet/etc., and for touching the parts of other human beings that are not customary to touch, unless of course you´re married, or related in a parental/offspring sense, or you´re a doctor, or something. My face is usually beetroot coloured by the time we return to our car.      

Liz is marching through the Mercado Oriental, followed by Raffy who is striding and finally myself and Sez, who are sooking, sad, struggling, and so-forth. It´s quite the brigade. We reach our automobile empowered, satisfied and desperate. Liz could go on to the next market, Raf would prefer McDonald´s and Sez & I are ready to slouch on the catch whilst watching WWE. (We take notes for our next adventure in the Oriental.)

We head out for some Nica-Cuisine (Gallo Pinto, bistec, platanos, coleslawless coleslaw, etc. It´s delish…). For this entire day we´ve been escorted by our new Youth Pastor, Eduardo, his gorgeous wife and their son who, in my opinion, is JUST an angel (Matthew 19:26 … with God all things are possible).

We´re fed and satisfied, it´s time to head home.

Yes we had another 500 things to do, but we throw all of that in the proverbial trash and head off to our primordial Church. The singing we can hear from our house. The dogs can also hear it and hooooooooowl. It´s going to be a BIG night, you can hear it in the parishioners voices.

We jump in the car, with bongos and drums to-boot. The car is brimming with all of our equipment. There is only enough room for our foster children. Our bios (as I like to call them) hang-on to the side of the car. I burl along and pick up more people heading in the same direction. We round the bend and our Church comes into view.

We are the only people who bring a car to services. The back-half of the Church building are always looking at us when we arrive. They feel energised by the unique Brien-contribution, and smiles are instantly pasted across many-a-face.

We enter the building. We´re only 20 minutes late, which is early for Nicas (on average), but late for the members of our small, local, rural Church. We totter along, all 9 of us, and like something out of a magic show, the exiting of our car never stops... 13 Church folk, 7 Brien children, 11 drumming pieces, 3 bongo bits, a music folder thingy-majig and of course dear, sweet, adorable Liz.

Our knees instantly start bobbing to the rhythms. We can´t help ourselves. Our children clap along and sing, because they know the words.

I am still very much struggling with the Spanish language. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will probably always struggle with Espanola. It´s just not in any way easy for me to learn. And so I clap and click, hum and whistle, but not a single word comes from my mouth (except for “Alleluia”, “Gloria a Dios”, and “Christo”).

Sez is alive on the drums, though at times he does go to “another place” and I have to subtly wave wildly or scream out something in English (and try to make it sound like I´m screaming to God as a part of my worship… For example “Gloria, Alleluia – we praise you Jesus” becomes “Gloria, son look at me – if you don´t start drumming again I´ll be smacking your bot-bot when we get home, AMEN!”). Tonight he was a tad bit distracted. But let me tell you, tonight he had plenty to be distracted about.

We get up on the stage and perform our “special”. Tonight we´re singing “I Will Exalt You”, which is one of my favourite worship songs.

As we´re singing, the young “Mormons” arrive on their motorcycle. Their hair is slick. They have clean all-white shirts on. (Very unusual for our denomination – we just LOVE checkered shirts and jeans… EEEEeeeek! It´s like I´m trapped in some kind of third-world bush/barn dance!!!) They´re wearing trendy shoes and it looks like they´ve paid a fortune for teeth whitening. (They haven´t, it´s just the contrast with their olive complexion)

They step into the Church, arrive at the front row and kneel on the ground with their faces planted into the ergonomically sensational, plastically gorgeous chairs. (Which I swear were bought in the 70s (like so many things Nica) and never traded in.)

We leave the stage. The applause is deafening. We´re getting used to it. Really, the Nica Churches generally don´t have heaps of talent in the singing department. They´re by and large musically brilliant (instruments and rhythm), but God just didn´t don them with beautifully timbered voices. We have sing-in-the-shower voices. We love to sing, but we´re not your up-the-front-of-the-Church types. They think we´re like the Jackson 5 or something, we´re not willing (quite yet) to let them know the truth. A message to friends who can actually sing: STAY AWAY, THEY´RE OURS, AAALL OOOURS!!!

We resume our posts in the second row (another anomaly for us. We´ve always been back-row people. In Australia, the US, and the UK, when we were late, the only seats free were at the back of the Church building. However, in Latin countries, the back rows are taken first and people file forward… And so, we´re always humiliated as we walk down the middle of our small Church building to our designated seats in the second row).

The young lads are introduced. They jump up onto the stage and don´t wait for a second before they begin. It´s not like in Australia, where they´ll try and warm up the crowd with a joke and a compliment. They´ll stretch a bit to make sure they´re relaxed and maybe take a sip as a kind of reverse-reverse-reverse psychology (I´m comfy, I´m cool…) Noooooooooooh! They get straight into the turn-or-burn talk.

I tire of it actually. It´s one of those things - I don´t know if it´s a cultural objection or a spiritual loathing. Our Church of God Church tends to be a little negative. I experienced a couple of years, in our early married life, of solid “grace and mercy” teaching. Without it, I would not be where I am today. Anyway, they tend to be a bit negative, and love us, cause we keep pumping positive, positive, positive… “You mean, you can be a Christian and have fun in your life?” Yes…

The guy is going for it. The other chap has started walking around the Church praying out loud. They´re extremely self-assured. “Oh boy”, I think to myself. “This is going to be a loooooooong night.”

(At this stage I´d like to apologise for sounding overly downbeat. It´s just that, REALLY, it is not uncommon to sit through a 5 hour service. Our children also have to sit through these services. We do not permit them to leave, colour in a book, read, get a drink of water, or anything… They have to be attentive and show “interest” in what´s going on. Now whilst this may sound like child abuse to some, you have to understand that we are seen to be the “Harringtons” of our Barrio - rich, influential people (I loathe it. Others may be offended by this, but unfortunately it´s true. We have white skin, we come from afar, and we drive a car. We´re the richest people they have ever, and probably will ever meet))

The sermon is long, and broken up only by the volume of this lad´s voice. One moment he´s quiet and whispery, like he´s putting his new born son to bed, whilst at other moments he´s hot and bothered, shouting with a gravelly voice. It´s awesome to witness, young Nica-men, completely in love with Jesus and absolutely going for it.

The pianist returns to her post and begins to play. Sez, seemingly grateful for physical freedom, straps himself to the beast and starts pounding out a beat. The drums start to slide on the tiled stage, and so I move near to him. He smiles at me and then stares at my clicking fingers with his mouth wide open. He has gone to that “other” place, yet again.

I myself go to lah-lah land when I am rudely interrupted by Sez´s sudden nodding. His mouth is trying not to smile, but it simply cannot resist. I peer around – the young single Mum is dancing in the Spirit. I look at her, a bit mesmerised. Her dancing in the Spirit is beautiful, but she is also knocking over a quarter of the Church´s chairs, and her two year old daughter is a tad distressed.

I look back at Sez and give him a wink. He´s comfortable that everything is okay and goes back to that “other” place. However, in less than a second he comes out of that other “place” and starts nodding towards somebody else. Corr, blimey!

I twist my neck – it´s Ivania and Valeria. (my Principal and Youth Leader´s wife) They´re also dancing rather violently. My gaze lasts for quite some time. I look at Sez and then look back at the young ladies. Hands are wild and feet sure are moving. Dancing is generally forbidden in their Pentecostal culture, but when it´s for the Lord they give it everything they´ve got!

I return my eyes to Sez and he is now well-and-truly awake. He´s already gesturing to yet a fourth person. It´s one of the youth. She has tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands are up and she´s clearly lost in adoration for her Lord. And then the youth start coming out one-by-one. Lorenzy, Francesca, they´re all down the front, being drenched in the Holy Spirit.

The young man who had been strolling around the Church grabs the mike and begins to sing. He´s praying for everyone as he belts out a melody. His hands don´t stop and neither does his mouth. Actually, both of these fellas have good voices, and it´s a pleasure to hear them sing. Either that, or I´m now slain in the spirit and cannot tell the difference.

The pianist looks like she´s about to blow a fuse. Her chubby little face is red and those cheeks are going in and out like nobody´s business. She´s huffing and puffing and I´m beginning to wonder if she might blow the whole house down. Sez starts to drain. I can see it all over his small body. I push him on, “come on Sez, keep going”. He does. But starts to lose the beat. I grab one of the sticks from him and start bashing the high hat myself. Sez keeps the foot pedal pumping and continues to bang on the drum.

I look around. They´re now bringing a young lady forward, Fran´s friend, Scarleth. “Oh God”, I quickly pray. Now I had made a promise to this girl, saying that the service would be brief (under 2 hours), and that she was welcome to come back to our house for pancakes and a movie. It´ll be a scintillating evening filled with cavorting and festivities. Eeek! She is reluctant. The guy begins to scream into the mike, sounds like I´ve never even heard before. Sounds like helicopters, and tribal chants, etc. Quite bazaar to my Western, pop cultured ears. (Could we possibly pop a Hillsongs cd on in the background instead of all this who-har?)

Scarleth begins to bawl like a baby. “Oh good”, I say to myself. I look at her younger sister, who is understandably looking rather concerned, and she is also on the verge of tears. They offer for her to go forward as well. “Oh no” I think to myself. “She´ll make a bolt for the door and her parents will never leave her in my care again!” The lass heads to the front.

Within moments it seems as if everyone is crying. I look to the young lad who spoke, and he´s already looking at me. He grins at me and winks as if to say “having fun?” and I smile, shrug my shoulders, and continue to drum. (Sez is now nearly paralysed on the ground, cramps flowing through every muscle group in the young boy´s body. Clearly he is experiencing something quite different to the rest of the Chuch.)

The pregnant woman is now fluttering around like a butterfly. Her arms are making great, gigantic sized swooping motions. Her mascara is running so that she looks like some kind of weird Balinese-Circus clown combo.

Fran is now weeping uncontrollably. Fran once told me “the NCA Youth Group is really, REALLY good. People cry!” Her face is full of peace and love. She starts to pray out loud in English and I see one of the older ladies nodding, “ah yes, she´s speaking in tongues” I imagine her to be saying.

And then, when things can´t get any crazier, the young Mormon-twin-man ends the service with a prayer, everyone yells out a “Gloria-a-Dios”, they stack their chairs and leave.

The truth is, I am blown away by the people of this local, rural Church. The move of the Holy Spirit is not dedicated to the Church in the West. The move of the Holy Spirit belongs to the souls of every true believer, who opens their hearts to the rhythm and voice of God himself.

This week I venture with my new best friends, the Men in White, to Tipitapa Prison, the most notorious prison in Nicaragua. Pray for hearts… Pray for souls… Pray for His Will to be done in Nicaragua, a land with blossoming potential in the Kingdom of God… 

POST by RENZY: Experiencing the Divine Equine...

As you may know we have five horses. We have two boys and three girls. One of the girls is pregnant and the other girl we think is pregnant. The one that we know is definitely pregnant is called Midnight. She is the fastest horse out of them all but sadly she has a sore on her back, so we are not permitted to ride her right now. The story is not about her though.

Kaitlin, a friend from school, was over just to see Fran and have fun. She is from Canada and she used to have a horse and her horse had a foal that was called Gallo Pinto (a traditional food of Nicaragua, made with rice and beans and other bits and bobs…). When she was here we rode horses. Kaitlin rode Cadburys, a stubborn, plump, small, reddish coloured horse, the horse that is most likely to hurt someone, but she hardly ever does.

I was on Mexico. Sezni and I love to ride Mexico because he is always doing what you want him to do. Also he is a small quiet horse who hardly ever kicks or bites. Francesca was on the smallest horse that we have. Her name is Oreo. Her name is Oreo because she looks just like an Oreo cookie smashed up into little pieces.

She, like Mexico is also very calm. She is the best horse to put kids on because she is small and she is calm. The only bad thing about her is that she, like Cadburys, is VERY stubborn. Actually I think that she is worse than Cadbury's in that regard. She will only listen to you if you are leading her, but when she has someone sitting on her that is going to ride her by themselves, well that is when she gets very stubborn.

Oreo is the worst horse to go on if you want to have a good, long, fun ride, because she just will not listen. If you whip her she will just turn in a circle like a ballerina and lift her head tall. She really gets on my nerves sometimes.

At the time, we did not have many saddles. In fact we just had two. So, because we only had two saddles only two people could go on with a saddle and the last person would have to go without a saddle. And guess what… I was the person that had to go without a saddle. It was uncomfortable but since I had pretty much the best horse I had to go without the saddle.

I did not care much but it meant that I could not run with the horse because it would hurt too much. Also, because I only had to jump on and didn´t need to worry about the saddle, I started to go down the road without them. I would go down the road, and when I could almost not see them I would go back, and do it all again, over and over, until they were riding beside me.

We were riding down the narrow, dirt road when I saw a friend of mine. Her name is Jocelyn and she is eleven just like me. She asked me if I could give her a ride and so I went with the horse over to a ledge were she could get on, since she is Korean and sort of short. She tried getting on but she was half way on and then the blanket fell off and so we both fell off. But luckily I fell onto my legs, so the fall didn´t hurt. We laughed a bit but Jocelyn fell hard onto the ground, but we did not give up.

Once I was on I carefully helped her get on without both of us falling off again. Once she was kind of on we started to go. Kaitlin and Francesca had gone on without us so we had to try and catch up with them. I didn't want to trot because I thought that we might fall off again. We were walking when we finally caught up to them. We were talking and riding at the same time. It was fun but once we got to the corner where we turn to go to the church we decided to go back home.

I was turning the horse around when suddenly I felt my pants vibrating. I was thinking “what in the world could that be” when I heard the soft low voice of someone saying "Every day I see my Dream" repeating over and over. I suddenly realized that it was my phone. Someone was calling my phone so I stopped the horse and pulled my fat phone out of my small pocket.

It was Chango, a friend from church. The guys from church always randomly call for no reason. He called and I told him that I was at the corner where we go to church. He didn't believe me and he hung up. Fran and Kaitlin were ahead of us once again. I was talking to Jocelyn when we reached them.

When we got to Jocelyn's house, I helped her get off. When I said good bye the horse was eating. I started to pull the rope up when I saw that it was untied. Since I did not know how to tie the rope on the horse, I got off and started walking home with Mexico following me by the rope. I walked past a man and he saw that the rope was untied so he offered to help me. I got back on the horse and started riding home.

I was almost home when I saw Fran and Kaitlin come riding back out of the big green gate. They were headed towards me. When we reached each other we stopped. Kaitlin asked if I wanted to change horses. I sort of did because I had no saddle and it had started to hurt a lot.

Once I was on Cadburys I sat there and waited until she got on. After a few tries of getting on, she said to Fran "How about you and I trade because I can't get on this horse." So Fran got off and they both jumped on. Only this time when Kaitlin got on, the saddle fell onto the bottom of the horse. We laughed a little and I got sort of bored so I started to trot towards the house.

I went faster and faster then when I was almost at the gate I stopped her and went back to where Fran and Kaitlin were. They were laughing because of what had happened to Kaitlin, and because before, when I was having problems of my own, Cadburys had bitten her.

Well she had tried to bite her but Kaitlin had noticed and moved so she only bit her shirt. What a crazy day. First I fall off of the horse with my friend, then the reins fall off and some random guy helps me even though he doesn't have to, and then Kaitlin getts half bitten by a horse and the the saddle falls off when she´s getting on. What a day – what fun.

POST by FRAN: The One that Got Away

Francesca on Cadburys, Handing Out Invitations to Capital on the Edge Youth Nights

We have five horses; Cadburys, Mexico, Oreo, Midnight, and Cookie. Cadburys and Midnight are both pregnant, and Mexico and Cookie are booked in with the vet to be gelded. Oreo is a small horse that barely moves at all!

Cadburys is a redish brownie colour with a black main and tail. Mexico is also a redish brownie colour but his main and tail are blonde. Oreo is black with small splotches of white all over, her tail and main are black. Midnight is really dark brown with a black main and tail that looks purple in the sunlight. And Cookie is white with black legs.

Grace, Lorenzy’s tall friend, came over to ride horses. So they picked Cadburys and Mexico (Mexico is the smallest horse out of all of them). They saddled up and began to ride. Ten minutes later, after they had ridden around the same avocado tree about twenty times or so, Cadburys started getting mad because she wasn’t eating, so she stopped moving!  

They decided to switch Cadburys for Oreo. Once they were all set up and on the horse I told them that I was going to the corner store on our street and Dad said that we could go really fast and come back and eat. However, when the girls changed the horses they left the paddock (where the horses are kept) gate open, so the horses could walk around the house freely.

Sezni started to open the huge, green gate, which is the entrance to our house, and at that second Midnight came trotting out of the paddock. I was standing at the door and screamed at Sezni, “SHUT THE GATE!!!!” but it was too late! Midnight went trotting out of the gate and made a left turn down to the main road.

I said “get off the horse, I’ll go get her!” I didn’t really say it to a specific person, but Grace hopped down from Mexico and when she did, Yader (a friend from church, who works at our house) jumped onto Mexico and took off in the direction that Midnight had ran off in.

Two minutes later Midnight came whizzing around the corner followed by Mexico and Yader. We couldn’t get the gate open fast enough so Midnight kept running past our house, but this time to the right. I said to lorenzy “get down I’ll go and help him” she got off and I jumped on and whipped her with a twig and guess what happened… NOTHING!!! She didn’t budge!

Dad came outside because of all the noise we were making and he told us to shut the gate. We tried to explain what was happening, but he didn’t listen. We told him that we couldn’t shut the gate so he came over and was about to shut the gate, but at that very second Midnight zoomed by again, followed by Yader and Mexico.

Dad bolted to the house and came back with his motor bike keys, jumped on his bike and rode off down the lane.

Five minutes passed and I started to get worried. I decided to climb up the water tower and look for them. Two more minutes passed and I heard the horn on dad’s bike. I told Lorenzy and Grace to open the gate and stand back. I climbed down and ran to the gate. Dad reached the gate followed by Mexico and Yader. Midnight was being lead by Yader.

I didn’t end up going to the corner store that day (haha). But at least we didn’t lose a horse!

POST by SEZ: Out There Outreaching

On Friday we were going to have a party at my house. Franny and Renzy were making a pass the parcel with candy inside. When Fran and Renz were finished the people from the street were going to have a party.

They were swimming in the pool. They played soccer. They were having so much fun.

When my dad brought out the hot dogs they were hot and yummy. My dad told the kids to make a line. We got hungry and we were allowed one hot dog.

When the party was over we had another party for big kids. We played Jenga we played soccer and we swam. We had a Ping Pong Tournament.

When we were having another party I was watching a movie. I ate Snickers and it was yummy. When I was watching the movie I wanted to play soccer.

When I was playing soccer I was defense. And I protected the goaly. I like to do defense when I play soccer.

It’s fun to have a party in the day and in the night.

Pray for Alondra, Desperately in Need of Heart Surgery

Rosalyn and half of Alondra

Hello people!

Today I was teaching my classes of kids, when a Mum came to our house, crying in desperation. Our principal, Ivania, tried to console her but she was just too upset. I switched roles with Ivania and learnt, through Lorenzy, that her young daughter has been taken to hospital and she is now needing a life-saving heart surgery. 

Hospital treatments are generally free here, but this surgery requires a specialist and the cost is $180. We don't have this money though, God knows all things and through HIM, all things are possible for those who believe... The little darling's name is Alondra. Could I please ask you to pray today, that God would provide the money and that Alondra would live a long and happy life.
This case is especially sensitive for us because the family had enrolled their eldest daughter, Rosalyn, in our school. They have since pulled her out because there are so many rumours that we are child traffickers (there are currently many incidents in the news of others sealing children who don´t belong to them), narcos (one lives across the road from us) and that kids die in our pool (rumours, which I assure you, are not true). 

We believe that the Lord will use this situation to show the community, yet again, that we are here for them and love them dearly, with the love that only God can give.
Thanks to you for your generosity and prayer regarding this matter. 

We are making a video diary of this time so that when everything is resolved, and little Alondra is well again, we will be able to share this story with the World as a celebration of the goodness of God. We don´t feel to post the video now, as it might come across as insensitive and voyeuristic. (even though that is not our heart) 

And so... please pray. Pray, pray, pray, pray, pray... Not my Will, but yours be done...

Many thanks again,

Capital on the Edge

Support a Leading Christian Nicaraguan University Student (Eduardo)Support a Leading Christian Nicaraguan University Student

POST by SEZ: My New School

Today  is Tuesday.  We have  a new school and it’s in our house,  in Nicaragua . We have little kids and little big kids. Some have cute faces, some don’t have cute faces.

Today we played Octopus Tag. Brian and Oliver were Cheaters in Octopus Tag because they didn’t want to be in. The Second game we played  was What’s The Time Mr. Wolf.

When we finished all our games we had a snack. We ate oranges and they were good. The kids just love fruit because they are full of juice.

We were singing ABC and 123 and Amen. They had sang a lot of songs with their teacher named Jed Brien. The kids love to dance and stomp.

CLICK here to watch video

Grupo de Niños

5th Child Supported (Thanks to our BIGGEST supporters from Canberra - no offence but it´s true!)

POST by JED: Made in Australia

My father is the most eccentric person you’ll ever meet. I would be happily drifting in-and-out of consciousness when his screaming would instantly sober my senses.

I was 6 years old and for one-reason-or another was made to sit in the main service of our unique, small, full, Sydney-side, suburban Church.

I found the man enthralling, totally interesting, and at the same time long-winded and boring. The moments I loved most was when his face would turn blood-red and he would scream at the top of his lungs (I never experienced this burst of outrage towards me personally, that always came from my mother… She has red hair).

And then it was my turn. I would go up to the front of the Church, puppet in hand, and would crouch down beside my father. My place was at the bit that wasn’t quite the monstrous pulpit my father was standing behind, but wasn’t the door to the vestry either. It was halfway, a sort of sitting spot for a would-be preacher, or the Queen of England, or somebody else who might think themselves better than to be sitting with the common people.

My father and I would have a chat, in front of the ENTIRE congregation. Him, as himself – the preacher, and me as “Matthew”, the “Cruppit”. I took this moment VERY seriously, as this was my minute of monthly fame.

My father would ask me questions, pre-rehearsed (one would hope) and then I would give a detailed response, not letting a single hair on my head be seen by my audience. For I didn’t exist, I became the heart and soul of “Matthew” the blonde haired “cruppit” from who´s inner sanctum was filled with my sweaty right hand (and arm… I know, perhaps that should have been added as a verse in the Bible).

My father would continuously close my (Matthew´s) mouth with his preacherly hand, or ask me to close my mouth. He´d talk to me, both before and after the service, about how my mouth should always be closed (when not speaking) in front of the congregation – because to not do so would be staring, which is very rude. However, I´d always forget.

This continual correction in front of my audience was a tad humiliating, because this wasn´t “Matthew´s” fault, it was my fault, and the people knew “Matthew” wasn´t real (I hoped… I loved the congratulations after the service… The adoration… I LIVED for my audience!!!). I felt patronised and saw my future on the stage slipping steadily from my grasp.

I was so embarrassed. I was standing on the stage of Sydney´s foremost amusement park - a world of fun. Donned in white pants (hello ABBA), blue polo-shirt (a hideous American invention), and topped with a ridiculous looking cowboy hat (with bobbing corks, a repugnant Aussie invention, though highly functional – IN THE BUSH! (Aussie word for area outside of Aussie cities, but not dessert, which we term the outback, I think…)), I was the only “amusement” at this park… Along with my “sister” (I grew up with her at the mission, and she is now the sister of my sister-in-law… We´re family). Actually, she was the amusing one... She was singing with her mouth open wide, a bit too exaggerated-like, looking kindly upon the spectators, with a gentle smile and slow, nodding head. I noticed people laughing at her.

We were told that we had to sing with our mouths open-wide. Too much. It looked stupid. I was embarrassed to even observe our coach, Lisa, who would sing with her mouth so wide I felt concerned for her, that she might accidently inhale a fly buzzing by, or a small bird, or child, or something…

The song we were singing was an Aussie Medley, with a mish-mash Church fate variety special, American marching band, young talent time kind of feel to it. Horrendous! The song ended, thank God, and we were on to our next act, “This Little Light of Mine”.

I slipped away from my eccentric “sister”, and took my position at the mike. To my horror, my eccentric “sister” joined me at the front. I had forgotten that SHE was the MAIN singer in this song, and I was to be her accompaniment. “This little light of mine… I´m gonna let it shine” (oh, and a special shout-out to Psalty and the Kids Praise Kids at this stage...).

What was I to do. I couldn´t bare to be seen as a freak, for I have talent, and it´s me who should be letting my little light shine, not my wide mouthed, head bobbing “sister”. I entered the song and sung with all my heart. I was loud, clear, and just beautiful. My part over, “I shall replace the mike and wow my audience with my meticulously crafted dance moves”, or so I thought…

Now the main stage for this amusement park was on a man-made lake. There were 100 kids on this stage, and only a small gangway, which had to be walked over, single file, in order to be accessed.

I couldn´t get the mike on the stand. My big-mouthed “sister” was now dancing beautifully in the centre of the stage, and all eyes were on her. I had to act fast. The clasp just wouldn´t open wide enough, I´d have to give it a great-big shove and hope for the best.

I shoved and the mike went into the water… My “sister” continued to dance, mouth opened wide and with great BIG dance moves, but all eyes were now on me. Yes I was praising Jesus and letting my little light shine, but to the theme of blub, bluub, bluuub, bluuuuuuuuurb!

The mike had fallen into the water! Half of the children were still dancing, and the other half were staring at the audience, who half of which were waving wild-eyed at me, whilst I was staring into the water… I went to retrieve the MIKE (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!) screamed several burly, Western-Sydney men (before the days of Hillsong, when Western Sydney was still a bit festy).

I jumped back and looked up. They looked like they were going to cry… Could they have been as disappointed about my performance as I was. The poor fellows, they clearly were desperate to see me dance. Their wives chided them to shut-up.

I retrieved the Mike bluuuuuuuuurb, bluuub, bluub, blub, placed it on the ground, assumed my position and started to dance. However, nobody else was dancing and at that moment the music was cut. Jaded? Devastated? Ruined? My life was over…

Kate Carnell was there, this really was quite something! I had been married for a little over a year. We had lived for 6 months in Australia and 6 months in the UK. We had returned to Australia and had started a café with our best buds Guy and Jenny. Francesca was a month old.

Today was my special day! Although I wasn´t eccentric like the others in my

NEIS (New Enterprise Investment Scheme) program, I had something to offer the World.

Within my crew of weirdos and freaks were people who had special products and services that would explode like dynamite onto the market. These products and services would simultaneously change, culture, religion and politics of the Canberra region, whilst also getting us bludgers off the dole.

My “friends” had brilliant business ideas such as reinventing the parasol, commencing paranormal conferences in Queanbeyan (which is ironic, because Queanbeyan itself is paranormal), starting gourmet antipasto home-delivery services, etc.  

Liz and I were going to work on this arts café we´d opened, and make it a success. It wasn´t what God had called us to do, but we´d work it into our calling, somehow. It would, after all, be a Christian business and how could God turn his nose up at that?

The enterprise was in a rural setting, close to the city, and it would offer pottery, photography, paintings, woodwork, etc. Our building was beautiful, rustic, heritage listed and today I´d completed my business diploma, which meant that we could get crackin.

Kate Carnell looked around. She was a rather attractive (in her youth, I imagined…), middle aged, bitter, unscrupulous, divorced, Canberra labour politician, whom Canberrans all admired and adored.

She was the Chief Minister for our small “state”, the Australian Capital Territory, the “bush capital”, the home of the brave (our great Australian Parliament), the big cheese. She was nobody…

She looked at me and winked. I wasn´t quite sure what that was all about but I smiled back at her. Then the ceremony... Kate had been swirling her glass-of-red with a frown on her face, but as soon as she was summonsed she elegantly placed her glass down on somebody´s laptop, slapped a Hollywood smile on her face, and meandered onto the stage with charm, elegance and grace.

She gave a 30 second speech, her eyes twinkled (she had twinkly eyes). She wrapped up her election speech and moved onto the awards. One-by-one, clap, clap, clap… Aussies are Aussies when they want to be and Americans when it suits them.

I imagined myself to be on the set of a Police Academy movie, graduating before Cmndt. Eric Lassard. I took my certificate and shook Kate´s hand, she winked again and slurred into my ear “great to see you again”. How eccentric! I had never IN MY LIFE seen this woman, and she was acting as if I was her previous boyfriend…

The tv cameras swooned. “Yes I´ll do an interview…” I stood in front of the camera and, with Kate´s words churning around in my head, I went blank. I looked into the cameras and answered the questions.

“15 people have graduated from a locally based Neis course, a federal initiative to get people off the dole and into small business. I´m on location in Queanbeyan with Jed Brien, who has just graduated. Jed, you´re commencing a business venture, can you tell us a bit about it?” “We´re opening a café in Gundaroo” Pause “Oooh sounds GREAT, now the NEIS program is about giving young people who receive social subsidies a chance to introduce niche products and services into the market. Can you tell us how your business will be different from the offerings of other businesses?” “We´re going to have coffee and other stuff” Pause “Cut tape let´s go to somebody else!”

The young, pretty female journalist flicked her hair around and walked over to the handsome paranormal conference graduate. Where was my head? Why couldn´t I speak?

Bedazzled I sat down. What was going on with my graduation day? I wasn´t the eccentric one, they were the nutbags! I started chatting with my wife, Elizabeth and sister in-law. I was starting to feel calm again, but Kate and the journalist were still dominating my thoughts.

One of the judges, who had argued that I should receive a grant for my business came over to chat. This man was oooooooooooooooold… But it´s rude to mention age when people pass the 40-something milestone. This guy was double that, if not more…

Blah, blah, blah… Rah, rah, rah… Yah, yah, yah… I was done! Ready to go home… “So Jed, when should I come out with my wife and visit your café?” he asked. “Oh, well we´re open Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Yes, you know… You should come out! Sunday mornings are beautiful – get in your car and drive, drive, drive… Then have a deavonshire tea, your wife would LOVE it! All the old fogies do!” My sister in-law let out a gasp/laugh! Did I just say what I think I said? But I´m not the eccentric one! I´m not!! I´m normal!!! They´re the losers, THEM!!!

In Church, and Liz has just finished the game for our youth. Now it´s time to hear from one of the youth leaders. We´ve just hired this young man, thanks to an awesome supporter from Canberra, Australia. He´s a good looking chap in his early 20s, married to a gorgeous young lady of 19 years, and the father of a 2 year-old son.

Now our local Church is Pentecostal, but like many Nica Churches, there is a dominance of rules and not much grace-and-mercy flowing from the hearts and minds of the leadership.

He starts on about how the youth need to be spending half an hour with God in the morning and half an hour at night. The youth should not be listening to secular music, of any form, and should be in Church 4 nights per week and on Sunday mornings. The youth should dress modestly. Muchachas must wear skirts and the lads need to wear slacks (long pants). For this is the will of God for us…

I scan the room. We have HEAPS of work to do. The youth are either texting, or staring out the window. It´s normal, the speakers check-in and the youth check-out. As I peruse I stop at Sezni. Now here´s an eccentric little lad if ever I´ve seen one. He´s my son. He´s beaut! I love him so much.

Now because we´ve just finished playing a game we´re all sitting in a circle. Sezni, however, is the only one who hasn´t moved his seat from the front. His seat is directly in front of the pulpit. The others, who were at the front of the room, have now moved their seats to the back of the room.

Sezni is muttering silently to himself. Odd little chap. He is staring at something. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it´s a bug. The youth speaker is getting really, REALLY heated about the problems the youth have and then SMACK. The bug is dead. Everyone laughs… Sezni had not been listening to the speaker, he´s been concentrating on a flying insect. At just the right moment he had silenced the speaker and brought a release to a rather tense situation.

We´re all a bit eccentric (in our own way) aren´t we? But God is faithful and He will use us if we are willing. Liz and I have just come to the realisation that although “God uses everything for good” (and he does, honestly – he does), it is clear to us that really, TRULY, we are only now for the first time stepping into the will of God for our lives… He has a plan for all of our lives. He created us uniquely, with different gifts and talents, but at the end of the day, we´re here - ALL of us, on this Earth to be of service to Him, our Father in Heaven.

POST by LIZ: Slumber Time

So, last night our forest green gates welcomed 214 Nicaraguan´s into our abode.  They swam, played no-rules basketball and attempted to hit a ping pong (seriously, they can point their slingshot and successfully hit an active iguana yet fail at hitting a plastic yellow ball!).

They carefully placed bricks on the Jenga´s wobbly tower, a couple were shooed away from some of the darker corners of our center, and one was prevented from leaving with his backpack stuffed full of our cookies by our sharp-eagle-eyed armed guard – BRAVO Nestor!   

Hard core soccer was played throughout the night. Sezni, Raf and Brian wowed the crowd with their board-breaking skills they adopted in TaeKwondo - I think Raf astounded himself when the board snapped in two. Needless-to-say, he spent the rest of the night parading his two halves of timber around the garden (after a hard night of being paraded, the boards are currently resting on the pillow next to Raf´s snoring head).

Feeling the power surging through his body, Rafael independently took up the task of trying to break our outdoor coffee table in two - then fled to the kitchen, when he failed to do so, grabbed a pencil and snapped it in two while yelling out “YA!”.

When it came to the devotion, Jed, Fran and the team had them enthralled.  The night buzzed with excitement, our community´s air was filled with merriment and God was present.  

Waking up this morning, my house is mute!  This is a rare moment in the Brien household and I picture those that know us well nodding their heads in total agreement.  All are sleeping – even the mice – and I do literally mean that!  I pick up my Oswald Chamber´s “My Utmost for His Highest” devotion to find the message also follows the theme of sleep!

I am directed to that pivotal moment in the garden of Gethsemane, right before Jesus is arrested.  After urging his disciples to remain alert and prayerful, he finds them konked out! (is that even a proper word??) (Matt 26:43 for all you Biblical scholars out there!).  

We all know it well: They had been given a spiritual task to do, yet they blew it! They slept!

But who am I to criticise and point the finger! I take off my judge´s wig and muse on the many times Jed and I have failed to do what our spirits have wanted to do and - in a sense - slept.

In our early days of marriage, in those dreaded Mount Druitt, Sydney times, our lack of finances and fear immobilised us. My own sense of failure and narrow mindedness prevented me from jumping completely on board with what was buried deep within – my spirit was willing but my outer body was physically weakened.

I now mentality walk through my timeline and shudder when I see the many “sleeping moments” I´ve had in my life. Times which have consumed my energies and fulfilled my physical needs, yet have not matched up with my spiritual calling.   

Jed and I often reminisce on these times which sparks a “if only” dialogue and normally ends with groans and moans when we think of all the times we have been spiritually idle and wasted precious time due to our physical state.

Time and time again tiredness, lack of finances and fear have prevented us from forging forward and doing what the Lord has placed in our spirit.  I have over and over and OVER again allowed my physical situations and states-of-mind prevent me from completely fulfilling my spiritual inclination. I contain many chapters within me that depict a multitude of moments like those disciples, where I didn´t obey because of my physical state which sent me into deep spiritual stagnation.

Today, when I read this passage, I´m just loving Jesus´ response. The first time he nudges the sleepyheads awake he recognises that his friends are faced with the conflict between the spiritual wanting, yet the physical struggles to follow through.

In a sense, when Jesus acknowledges the dilemma his disciples have, it enforces the internal conflict Jesus was battling with. “My father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me…” in other words… my physical state really doesn´t want to do what my spiritual state is willing to.

Jesus leaves, and despite his prompting, the disciples fail to keep their physical need of sleep at bay. When Jesus returns to the group, he finds his prayer warriors snoring their heads off - with mouths opened and drool hanging out (ok – allow me to have some artistic license here).

He doesn´t shake them awake and yell at them, he walks away, leaving them to their forty winks, while he himself wrestles with the inner conflict of the physical verses the spiritual.  

When he returns the third time he wakes them with a rhetorical question “Are you still sleeping and resting?” which we think, “uh oh, now they are really gonna cop it!” and I don´t know about you, but if I were Jesus I would have then dwelt on what they didn´t do, how they failed the second and third time, and perhaps would have conducted practice drills and workshop sessions on how to keep your eyes open when Jesus says to do so.  I would have forced those men to see the failures that they were.  

But Jesus isn´t me! - Thank God! - And he isn´t one to focus on our failures.  He didn´t say “You complete idiots, you failed at the task I gave you, so you can´t move on to the next step until you learn to keep your eyes wide open.” 

NO! His response is quite the contrary. He says “Rise, let us go!” in other words, “C´mon, let´s move on to the next thing” WOW! Let´s just take a moment here...in literary terms we´d say a “caesura”.

Instead of dwelling on the failures and incompetence of the disciples, instead of harping on about how they were given a task and failed miserably; He frees them and urges them to move on to the next thing. 

I have had MANY “sleeping” moments - moments where I have appeased my physical and kept my spiritual wants at bay. Even now, I am constantly faced with this issue on a daily basis with my house being a community center and shelter. My spiritual will wants to step-out and make a difference in our corner of the World, yet I daily wrestle with my physical being weak and on other factors such as: finances, selfish ambition, fear, etc.

I allow sleep to fall upon me and appease my physical being yet wake and realise that I have failed my spiritual being and in a sense, feel like I have failed!  But in these moments where I´ve allowed the physical to rule over the spiritual, I hear God´s loving voice, “Arise, let´s go forward (not back)”. And I splash my face with his living waters and move on to the next step.

“Never let the sense of failure corrupt your new action”