a contemporary aerial photo of Santa Cruz, Bolivia “There’s twice as much to do and half as much time to get it done,” as Opal said one day. To give an example: Living in a tropical climate meant that the kitchen cupboards had to be emptied and scrubbed weekly to avoid a major bug infestation. I hated doing it. Also, without refrigeration, shopping had to be done daily at the market in town. They splurged for me and bought meat sometimes. I was certainly an extra expense, but I wasn’t really much help. Opal taught English at a local college; I helped grade papers. I bathed the younger children. I helped make papaya jam and a birthday cake. I quilted. I sang in a quickly assembled trio of young people at the church. Five weeks is a long time when you can’t understand much of anything that’s said or done around you. My finest moment came at an evening church meeting in a dimly lit building when I missed the bench and landed in the dirt. The children laughed and the ice was broken. There was neither running water nor electricity—my electric shaver remained packed. Had I not realized I would be reading and writing by kerosene lantern or brushing my teeth in the front yard, spitting in the dust as the orphans did? Or had I blocked all that in my desire to be a missionary? No indoor plumbing meant using the outhouse. Because I was an honored guest, I was given my own roll of toilet paper—the children used old newspapers. The outhouse was positioned on high ground behind the house, which was fine until it rained, making mud all the way up the slight hill. My enthusiasm for missions waned a bit, but my appreciation for amenities such as running water and modern sanitation increased. Turning on a tap back in Akron and getting hot water was newly a miracle.
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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