Long lasting

God says He does not change. He wants us to wear white garments before Him   Sometimes it’s hard to know how in the chaos of today’s world, which reminds me that Moses was read in the synagogues year on year until the promise of Christ was fulfilled.

In other words keep the commandments, something we are told to forget about under the new (hallelujah) covenant but which doesn’t always make sense in day to day life)

Lord deliver us from evil. Each generation has a right to hear of the goodness of Christ.

We are about to move into the garage conversion.  By design, to let our legs rest from the stair climb to our current upstairs abode. Also to give us more space to roam around in downstairs. It should be finished around end of January.

Poor Zimbabwe, the home of our birth. Poor people!  Lord increase the fruits of the beatitudes to them.

St Peter

We are made aware of the intense tribulation coming on the world in the last days. St Peter gives good advice when he reminds us to live godly lives adding each day to the godliness of our living, ‘for if you do these things you will never fall’

Perseverance is good and produces fruit.  How many of us set aside a day for yearning after the Lord? Be it Sunday or Saturday or any other day of the week, one of them in each week belongs to the Lord.  When one remembers the faithfulness of the Jewish people to this day, remembering the Sabbath, one is awed by their perseverance. Not to sound frivolous, but God must be too, for sin had not been covered then.

Keep believing, keep hoping, keep watching.  Pray for the peace of Jerusalem and that the Word would yet go out from there.

Jesus is one being with the Father. Full of grace and truth. Remember the thief on the cross?  Jesus accepted him even as he died.

Jesus exalted

Jesus is the best thing that ever happened for man. Exalt Him among the nations and May His glory be seen above the earth.  Hallelujah

A quick trip to Spain

We needed to view an olive farm which was for sale, and which we had an interest to purchase.

A quick review of possible dates when our son was able to drive us there, showed that a windown of opportunity existed from the very early morning of Friday to return by Sunday around eleven p.m.

We duly booked a chunnel crossing to coincide with the time we had, and off we set.  This, on 24 hour notice.

Why didn't we just fly out?  Reus airport was the nearest to our destination.  However we are a retired couple who only know a smattering of Spanish and no Catalan at all.  Which was why our son came with, he having spent four or more years teaching TEFL in Spain.

Catalan is not Spanish.  Franco, when he ruled Spain, would not even allow Catalan to be taught in schools, or be found in print anywhere.  Which is probably one reason why now Catalans want autonomy from Spain.

The chunnel crossing was really a culmination of a quite extraordinary piece of engineering.  You are not aware of actually going under the English Channel. One supposes it must be a journey of perhaps 30 miles, as the exit from the UK is Folkestone and the arrival Calais.  The time this takes is 35 minutes of mostly darkness.  35 minutes.  That is all.  Your drive on and you drive off.  Just imagine if the walls gave way and the chunnel flooded!

Refugees have tried walking through it to get into the UK.  They managed to get about half way,
before being spotted.  How wretched are their circumstances that they are willing to risk walking
along in the dark (maybe had a torch?) next to a fast moving train.

Our outward journey was as smooth as the sea which the owl and the pussycat sailed on.  Our return chunnel journey was a little wobbly, but none the less uneventful.

OK! So we travelled about 3500 miles in 72 hours. That included 2 nights in an hotel plus time to actually view the property.

France does more farming than Spain.  Vineyards were plentiful.  We took the route north of Paris and then south along the border with Germany and Italy then through Peripignan, where we spent our first night and across the border into Spain.

The hotel accommodation in Peripignan was exactly what we needed.  A double room and a single room with bunk beds very clean and tidy.  An en-suite easily accessible from both rooms, and a
lovely filling breakfast fuelled us for the next day.

We left slighter later than planned.  Our destination was Benifallet on the River Ebro.  Thing is, we had no post code, just hand written directions on how to get there.  And that was a big mistake.  When you go 1700 odd miles to view a property, you really, really need quite specific directions. 

Once off the main motor way, the satnav hiccupped. It got the hump and persisted on staying on 'walking' mode.  So we went to Reus, which was south of our destination and had to turn north again. Actually this didn't turn out badly because the hand written directions were from Reus going north.

We crossed the wide tranquil River Ebro at riverside town of Benifallet with its dominant Church and started the climb up to the olive farm.  All was well.  Our directions were to look out for 3 specific road signs and once we had seen those we were to turn immediately left onto a dirt track.  Great, we did that.  It was an appalling little stone track that came to an end pretty quickly.

We took to our feet and crunched uphill as far as we could go.  Then we went horizontal for as far as possible. Then more uphill.  Happily, a gentleman had come to tend his olive trees with his dogs.  No doubt he had grave concerns about our presence Once we showed him our map though, he was sympathetic. We needed to go further down the road, he said.  (His olive trees were in good shape and from the branches of six or seven, hung the simple fly repeller.  A 2 litre plastic bottle with a hole near the top and bait inside at the bottom.)Simple, environmentally friendly and effective.

There were at least 3 carob trees growing.  Their pods have such a pleasing scent.  Animals eat them and they were probably the pods which the prodigal son ate when he found himself penniless and friendless.  'And he would gladly have filled his stomach with the pods that the swine ate'.

So off we went.  The owner had posted a photograph of the entrance to the property from the main road.  Remember we were hundreds of miles away from home and his specific road signs had not
worked.

We found the photograph entrance.  The problem was it was on the wrong side of the road from our first effort.  What to do?  Try.  Well that was fruitless too, and involved a lot of walking.  Still no sign
of the farm we had seen in the photographs.  Each time we met a dead end we would go back to the entrance and start again.  Walking around in the bush trying to find the property, one became aware of the neglect of many many olive groves which were obviously cared for in times past.

Ones shoes took a toll.  My husband's soles separated from the upper part of his shoe.  He didn't tell us though.  It was only at a petrol stop sometime later where we went on to buy lunch that the flap flap flap sound of the leather hit us!

The roadside stops for food and petrol are very much better in Spain than France. Spain gave one more choice a hot meal.  France offered the same food in virtually all its petrol stops.  Pity really, one could assume they have enough variety in their town shopping to make the road stops more interesting,

Providentially, a police car came and parked in the entrance opposite us.  In desperation, we eventually decided to elicit their help. One wonders if they were considering ourselves to be up to no good!

Our son's Catalan was very useful.  The Police were very ready to help.  We needed to turn off on their side of the road, in the entrance to where they were parked.  And we were to keep left.  Keep left
all the time.  I guess it is OK to say 'keep left'  if you know where the main track actually is.

After many trips on the network of dirt tracks that spread out like the branches of a tree, we finally, literally, found one which went up another hill, at the top of which was the T junction we had looked out for.

This was IT.  Take a right turn and shortly after we were there!  In retrospect I guess, we would have
been in a more positive frame of mind when viewing the property.  The location was brilliant.  Quiet,
peaceful with a gentle cool breeze.  No-one could fault it.

The house though was disappointing.  Probably because the resident caretaker had moved in and his belongings were scattered everywhere.  There was not much leg room to get through it all, making the layout of the house difficult to visualise.

The terraces of olives and almonds still existed but needed care as the overgrowth seemed to be what
Had benefitted most from the years of non occupation of the premises.

We were there for about 90 minutes.  We enjoyed the water from the cisterna on the premises, a very big plus because drinking water is scarce in remote mountain districts.

One can however get agricultural water to the premises fairly easily.  The water comes from the River
Ebro.  Solar power drove the lighting system. A stable block for horses completed the building on the property.  All in all, it was a very viable proposition for what we wanted to do.

Our journey back was again, a rush.  This time we crossed the neck of Spain/France entering France from the Pamplona, the bull fighting city of Spain.  From Pamplona to Bordeau then Tours, Rouen, Calais.  It was fortunate that we had bought a road map because our satnav wanted to send us to Paris all the time.  By choosing the city we wanted to go to we avoided Paris.  Rouen is on the other side of the river Seine, and there is no direct bridge crossing. The road jiggles around until you point to Le Havre and along the way you get back onto the road from Rouen.

We got to Calais early.  Our booking was the last that evening, but there must have been fewer passengers because we were put on an earlier hour crossing.  We were extremely grateful for that because it meant an earlier arrival in Oxford, our son's final destination.

Why oh why does the UK block off parts of the M1 and M25 at night.  There is NO warning of this.  Suddenly you find yourself unable to continue your journey and are given no clear instructions on how to get to one's destination.!!  It is so difficult to navigate around London at night.  Now if I were in charge of the Department of road workers.... LOL

Have to say, the Lord Jesus ensured we had a safe journey.  Our prayer was, "make our journey safe both for ourselves and others, please Lord Jesus.

El Salvador's working class

Walking to Plaza Merliot meant we crossed the busiest intersection on the way.

A little boy, about 6 years old was at the front of the stopped traffic.  He had taken the opportunity, while the lights were red, to earn some money by entertaining the driver's of the mainly huge trucks waiting for the lights to change.

He had two sticks to which was attached a cord.  A sort of bobbin was thrown up and down and caught in the middle of the cord.

He was totally not put off by the fact that he couldn't really do the trick, he was entertaining them by walking in between the huge trucks which would hardly have been able to see him if they moved off quickly.  He was earning 'bread' for his family, and was enjoying doing so.  The family consisted of 3 youngish women and at least 4 other younger siblings.  All quite accustomed to what was going on.  What a spirit!

There is a disparity in income in El Salvador.  This is nothing new among the nations. In El Salvador though, street vending does not bring down the long arm of the law on your head.  Citizens wheel their carts around making themselves visible to the population.  They employed no coercion.  You buy if you want.  And people bought.  The days were really hot so shaved ice in a cup, sweetened with whatever syrup took your fancy, was very refreshing.

Another vender had a backpack filled with thermos flasks containing coffee which thirsty customers in the cooler evenings purchased.  People gathered in the parks after work with their families providing a ready footfall of potential buyers.  One cannot help thinking that the Almighty looks down with tender love on these 'less fortunate in cash and education' people who nevertheless find joy and a reason to live in each day.  Reminds one of Jesus' response to Peter when Peter told Him to 'pity Himself'.

Caring El Salvador

A lot of good work goes on in El Salvador.  Many people care for others.

One group of Christians held a men's prayer breakfast weekly, seeking the Lord's face as to what to do for His work.  They met regularly over a period of months.  At some point during those months, one of the men described what he had unwittingly come across during his daily work.

He had entered an old delapidated building and found an elderly woman living, not on her own, but surrounded by 50 babies, all in various stages of neglect.  Some had big sores caused by over-wearing badly soiled diapers.  All were malnourished and the stench, he said, was overpowering.

This woman rescued unwanted babies and did everything she could to keep them alive.  Her task was overwhelming but she was undaunted.  She had no apparent means of support and was not a registered orphanage.

The men's group decided to take a look and they too, were horrified by the outward condition of what they found.  They did a clean-up for her and left, feeling vindicated to some degree by their good deed.

They continued to meet, asking the Lord to show them what they should do to further His Kingdom
on earth.  Slowly it dawned on them that G-d had in fact answered their prayer.  They had just been avoiding the answer as it was so very much outside any of their combined curriculum vitaes.

Still, having awakened to the need, they put hearts and soul into the work that needed to be done.

Today they have a 30 acre property for the housing and use of el salvadoran orphans.

This is just one group.  Another, seeing a similar need among El Salvadorans orphaned population have bought a 10 acre property and are working towards a sustainable community where house
parents look after 6 or 8 orphans per unit, and sustain the community with a hydroponic fish unit
combined with vegetable growing and poultry. This is a rural community.  The first thing that needed
to be done was to build a wall around the acreage to provide a degree of safety.  A gang culture still exits in parts of the country.

Sadly there is a culture in El Salvador of sexual misconduct.  Incest is common in some communities and women see little hope of breaking away from the cycle.  Their attitude is rooted in 'it happened to me so it is likely to happen to my daughter too'. This is not something necessarily connected to poor families.  In fact, many poorer families are free it.  (I am quoting an orphanage worker in this paragraph and cannot say for sure that the problem is country wide.). It is a generational problem which needs to be addressed.

A brief reference to the gang culture.  Our son has a small beach front property on the La Libertad
coast.  A river borders the side of the property and across the river is a shanty town area.  The employed builder related the previous day's events to our son when he went down to check on the building progress.

Apparently a gang from the shanty area had crossed the river (very easy to do) and used the accommodation on the property for a night's stay.  On leaving, he related, they marked the property on the outside wall with their logo, an X.  Sure enough, an X existed.  So the tale having been told, what should the outcome be?

" Scratch out the X"-  was our sons instruction.

This was met with disbelief and astonishment.  "If the X is scratched out, that will anger the gang so much that they will seek you out to harm you", our son was told.

He persisted though, and the X was duly removed.  There were no repercussions.

What he did notice though was that young people came to stand underneath the trees on the short rubbish littered drive to the property because they could connect to the hotel's wifi, the hotel being opposite to our son's property.  Sometimes there is a simple reason for what seem to be difficulties.

El Salvador's buses.

Where private transport is in short supply, mini buses are an acceptable way of getting around.  People can be packed in to capacity and more.

One day we visited downtown San Salvador with a young El Salvadoran Mum and her lovely young, well mannered son, on pirate bus number 42.  Downtown is the main market near the main Catholic Cathedral.  On arrival, we walked a lot. The young man came along to ensure that my husband, who looks around a LOT, was kept within sight of the young Mum and myself.  The young Mum was the tour guide.

The best part of the market was the best cheese and lorroco pupusas we had eaten in El Salvador at what could have been the dirtiest food stall in the market.

It was a well spent day though.  There is not a lot to say about the market that differentiates it from markets anywhere.  It was busy, varied and packed tight with people.  Oh yes, one stand-out happening was a shoe repair.  Repairs are done at a stall with every imaginable machine available.  All old-tech.

My shoe needed stitching where the cross strap had loosened from the buckle.  A similar repair at home would cost about ten dollars.  At this market it cost 25 cents as was done in 3 minutes.

The mini buses are not pirate taxis.  They just look like them.  You pay 25c for any journey within the outer limits of San Salvador.  This No. 42 was not to be outdone by any other in its fleet.  One felt thankful that the chassis used unseen hands to hold on tight to the cab partly because the nuts and bolts doing the job looked to have long given up the uphill fight. Why we weren't left sitting on the
seats while the driver and chassis took off is one of the less talked about blessings of El Salvador!

On this return journey, my husband had basically disappeared down to the floor boards on his seat at the back, with young Mum and son doing their best not to sit on top of him.

Eventually I carefully put my elbows inside the cab part lest they scrape on the ground around some of the corners.  A jest ofcourse.  It just felt as though we leaned over so much as we took the corners.

We  made it home in the tic of an eyelid.

El Salvador really blessed us, as the man with the second world was helmet told us it would, first time we came.