As many of you may have heard, my Grandpa Donahey passed away yesterday (Sunday) at 5:00pm. He was as prepared, both spiritually and physically, as he possibly could have been to go Home. As a family, we count many fond memories with Grandpa over the past few years, and have been blessed with plenty of time to prepare for his departure. Thankfully, I got to talk to him on Friday and say goodbye and tell him I love him.
As many of you may not know, for the past half year I´ve also been intending to fly home early and surprise my family for Thanksgiving. So, surprise! God-willing I´ll see you on Thursday for Thanksgiving, or on Friday at 10:00 am for my grandpa´s funeral. Viewing hours start at 10:00 am with the actual funeral service at 11:00 am at Waite and Sons in Medina. I hope to see you there!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Argentina!
Argentina, when compared with Paraguay, is a really big country to get to know. For that reason, along with my limited time and pocketbook, I chose to visit only three major cities in the middle part of the country.
The first leg of my trip was to Buenos Aires, the most European major city in South America. After an 18 hour through-the-night bus ride from Asunción, I arrived to the most Western civilization I’d seen in more than a year. Since Buenos Aires was settled and populated by Spaniards and Italians, the architecture, parks, and beauty of the city reflect Western and especially Western European styles and ways of living. There were beautiful old buildings and imposing ornate churches, flowing gothic fountains and clean Victorian parks.
I also arrived to the most materialism I’ve seen in a year. The first day I spent wandering around wide-eyed and open-mouthed in the shopping district, visiting store after store and mall after mall. I saw brands of clothing and food and entertainment that I had almost forgotten about in my year away from American culture. The best surprise was a man dressed up as a sandwich who led me to Subway.
Sunday in Buenos Aires I went to San Telmo, a neighborhood world-famous for its antiques shops and street fair. I bought a small $10 religious painting a couple centuries old that had been ripped out of a church in Peru.
Monday saw me visiting Palermo, the ritzy part of town, and buying a ham and cheese sandwich for $10. In my defense, I was really hungry after walking around and visiting the Recoleta, a little city-cemetery where all of Argentina’s famous folks are buried (including Evita).
Tuesday I went back to Palermo and Argentina’s National Fine Arts Gallery, where I saw paintings by as many modern artists as you can name. Picasso, Monet, Manet, Rivera, Van Gogh, Degas--- everyone was there, and all their paintings saw me trying to be an artsy fartsy arts aficionado. I figured just standing and staring long enough would make me look like I appreciated art, and I think it worked.
Wednesday morning I arrived in Mendoza, a mountain city on the other side of Argentina and in the foothills of the Andes Mountains. It reminded me much of Boulder, Colorado. The city has a complex system of canals which channels melting snow from the mountains to water its thousands of beautiful sycamore trees. The city would be a desert without this genius system, which also provides the necessary irrigation water for surrounding vineyards and orchards.
My first full day in Mendoza, I took a trip high into the Andes Mountains to the border with Chili and an altitude of about 11,000 feet. I saw snow there, and took my picture with Mount Aconcagua, the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas. I met on the tour two American men who were both former contract security officers with American military forces overseas. We had a hearty lunch, since it got really cold so high up in the mountains.
Day two in Mendoza saw me on a bicycling vineyard tour of the surrounding countryside. I don’t know who ever thought mixing bicycles with wine tastings and crazy Argentinian traffic was a good idea, but thankfully I survived the afternoon along with my two new friends from Tufts University that I met along the way. Perhaps it was God’s will to protect us on the roads and to keep me from getting into trouble, but we started off late and were only able to see two vineyards and one specialty liqueur shop. Around a dozen vineyards were originally on the tour schedule. I ended the day dehydrated and with a literally blistered behind.
The last day in Mendoza I went to visit La Difunta Correa Shrine, the center of a folk cult to a woman who, a century and a half ago, was found dead in the desert with her live baby still sucking at her breast. Although the cult is condemned by the Catholic Church, many Argentineans believe La Difunta Correa, or the Dead Lady Correa, can perform miracles for people who ask. Thus, at her shrine, people bring models of their houses to ask for La Difunta’s blessing, leave parts of their cars for safety in travel, and climb the stairs to an altar with a statue of her dead body and suckling baby to ask for good health and prosperity. The idolatry and paganism of it all, along with a bad raw ham sandwich I ate for lunch, made me soul- and stomach-sick the rest of my trip.
Monday I arrived in Córdoba, a beautiful colonial city in central Argentina nearly as old as colonialism itself. With several beautiful churches downtown, I was impressed that native Cordobans nearly filled each one to capacity for mass on a weekday morning.
Besides seeing a few churches a few blocks away from my hostel, I was too sick to do anything else in Córdoba, and ended up passing two days indoors close to the toilet and sink. Fed up with being far away from home and with no one to take care of me, I arranged to leave my hostel early and zoomed on a bus back to Asunción.
Experiencing Argentina, although much bigger and perhaps with many more exciting things to do than Paraguay, was nothing like experiencing home again in Lambaré. I went away to foreign lands only to come back appreciating even more the community of dear friends and Christian brothers and sisters that I have here in Asunción. I missed them all so much while I was gone, and I’m even thankful now that my sickness in Mendoza and Córdoba gave me good reason to return home early to spend more time with them these last few weeks in Paraguay.
The first leg of my trip was to Buenos Aires, the most European major city in South America. After an 18 hour through-the-night bus ride from Asunción, I arrived to the most Western civilization I’d seen in more than a year. Since Buenos Aires was settled and populated by Spaniards and Italians, the architecture, parks, and beauty of the city reflect Western and especially Western European styles and ways of living. There were beautiful old buildings and imposing ornate churches, flowing gothic fountains and clean Victorian parks.
I also arrived to the most materialism I’ve seen in a year. The first day I spent wandering around wide-eyed and open-mouthed in the shopping district, visiting store after store and mall after mall. I saw brands of clothing and food and entertainment that I had almost forgotten about in my year away from American culture. The best surprise was a man dressed up as a sandwich who led me to Subway.
Sunday in Buenos Aires I went to San Telmo, a neighborhood world-famous for its antiques shops and street fair. I bought a small $10 religious painting a couple centuries old that had been ripped out of a church in Peru.
Monday saw me visiting Palermo, the ritzy part of town, and buying a ham and cheese sandwich for $10. In my defense, I was really hungry after walking around and visiting the Recoleta, a little city-cemetery where all of Argentina’s famous folks are buried (including Evita).
Tuesday I went back to Palermo and Argentina’s National Fine Arts Gallery, where I saw paintings by as many modern artists as you can name. Picasso, Monet, Manet, Rivera, Van Gogh, Degas--- everyone was there, and all their paintings saw me trying to be an artsy fartsy arts aficionado. I figured just standing and staring long enough would make me look like I appreciated art, and I think it worked.
Wednesday morning I arrived in Mendoza, a mountain city on the other side of Argentina and in the foothills of the Andes Mountains. It reminded me much of Boulder, Colorado. The city has a complex system of canals which channels melting snow from the mountains to water its thousands of beautiful sycamore trees. The city would be a desert without this genius system, which also provides the necessary irrigation water for surrounding vineyards and orchards.
My first full day in Mendoza, I took a trip high into the Andes Mountains to the border with Chili and an altitude of about 11,000 feet. I saw snow there, and took my picture with Mount Aconcagua, the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas. I met on the tour two American men who were both former contract security officers with American military forces overseas. We had a hearty lunch, since it got really cold so high up in the mountains.
Day two in Mendoza saw me on a bicycling vineyard tour of the surrounding countryside. I don’t know who ever thought mixing bicycles with wine tastings and crazy Argentinian traffic was a good idea, but thankfully I survived the afternoon along with my two new friends from Tufts University that I met along the way. Perhaps it was God’s will to protect us on the roads and to keep me from getting into trouble, but we started off late and were only able to see two vineyards and one specialty liqueur shop. Around a dozen vineyards were originally on the tour schedule. I ended the day dehydrated and with a literally blistered behind.
The last day in Mendoza I went to visit La Difunta Correa Shrine, the center of a folk cult to a woman who, a century and a half ago, was found dead in the desert with her live baby still sucking at her breast. Although the cult is condemned by the Catholic Church, many Argentineans believe La Difunta Correa, or the Dead Lady Correa, can perform miracles for people who ask. Thus, at her shrine, people bring models of their houses to ask for La Difunta’s blessing, leave parts of their cars for safety in travel, and climb the stairs to an altar with a statue of her dead body and suckling baby to ask for good health and prosperity. The idolatry and paganism of it all, along with a bad raw ham sandwich I ate for lunch, made me soul- and stomach-sick the rest of my trip.
Monday I arrived in Córdoba, a beautiful colonial city in central Argentina nearly as old as colonialism itself. With several beautiful churches downtown, I was impressed that native Cordobans nearly filled each one to capacity for mass on a weekday morning.
Besides seeing a few churches a few blocks away from my hostel, I was too sick to do anything else in Córdoba, and ended up passing two days indoors close to the toilet and sink. Fed up with being far away from home and with no one to take care of me, I arranged to leave my hostel early and zoomed on a bus back to Asunción.
Experiencing Argentina, although much bigger and perhaps with many more exciting things to do than Paraguay, was nothing like experiencing home again in Lambaré. I went away to foreign lands only to come back appreciating even more the community of dear friends and Christian brothers and sisters that I have here in Asunción. I missed them all so much while I was gone, and I’m even thankful now that my sickness in Mendoza and Córdoba gave me good reason to return home early to spend more time with them these last few weeks in Paraguay.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Nightmares
I have never been one to think too much of my dreams. In our over-analyzed post-Freudian world, what ought to be taken as innocent dreams are often twisted around and interpreted to tell us that we have very dark desires and are actually very bad people. As for me, I don’t think that what I dream is necessarily always what I want to do, and I know that if I dream about trees and buildings and people and normal things that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m 100% repressed.
In my spiritual life, my dreams have never been a very big part of my relationship with God. Although I once met the pope in a very lively night of dreaming, I can’t recall meeting God or an angel by way of vision, and I’ve certainly never received any clear instructions for my life while asleep. Although I’ve dreamt of Christian reconciliation between people who have been separated for a long time and of the spiritual salvation I so greatly desire for many friends and loved ones, I claim no prophetic vision and write it off more as wishful thinking on my own part than the reality of God’s workings in the world. I’m generally very skeptical and uncharismatic when it comes to interpreting dreams as revelations from God.
All this goes to say that I’m really surprised at myself for being so impacted by what’s been going on in my dreams the last two nights. I’ve had terrible nightmares for two nights straight: nightmares where everything around me in my bedroom—my blankets, my clothes, the fan, and even my roommate, turn into menacing demons and grotesque diabolic forms. The room swirls with evil, an endless maze of altered reality and torment. I cannot explain it well, but it has terrified me at night and left me feeling completely helpless.
Last night, when the nightmare was at its worst two or three times, I had no recourses left but to cry out to God with the Lord’s Prayer. I didn’t speak with any authority as one rebuking demons, but instead, as a lost and terrified child crying out to his father, I prayed for salvation from what I dreamt was evil all around me. As I recited the “Our Father," the incubus world quickly receded and I was left quiet, alone, and trembling in my bed.
I’m really at a loss as to how to interpret what actually is happening. Perhaps I just am eating too much chipa, and my dreams the result of too much Paraguayan cheese in my system. Or, perhaps I have a lot of subconscioius transition stress and it’s working itself out in nightmares. I’m tempted to believe, though, that it really is some sort of spiritual warfare going on and a very real vision of the constant fight going on within my soul between good and evil and light and darkness. Whatever it is, though, it’s shaking me up, and I’m coming out of it able to testify to the power of God in the midst of demonic terror, and of the presence of divine peace in the struggle with very dark dreams.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
A Lively Update
You might say it’s been a while since I’ve updated, so here’s a smattering of information:
1. Jason Jacobs, the fellow to replace me, arrived from Richmond two weeks ago. He stayed with Oscar and Karen a week and then moved in to the house with me and Christian. So far, everything goes real well. Some of our discussions and adventures in the house might make for a good comedy—“Two Missionary Dads Raising a Christian,” or some bad use of words to that effect. You can check out Jason’s blog to get his perspective at jayzilla.com.
2. A week ago Saturday I took the GRE for my graduate school applications. The paper edition is offered once or twice a year in Paraguay at the CCPA, a sort of American-Paraguayan cultural and linguistic exchange center. I arrived around 8 in the morning to find a very large crowd of Peace Corp volunteers who were also taking the test. Most were from the Midwest and looked eerily like me—light hair, blue eyes, and slightly sunburned all around. I met one girl named Ellen who lives in the San Pedro province and who is keeping bees. Apparently Taiwan donated (thank you, obscure South American country, for your vote in the United Nations) a pile of bee-keeping equipment to Paraguay to inspire new forms of sustainable agriculture, but the only person who interested in the project is this fine volunteer from Wisconsin.
The test room was air conditioned like a refrigerator, but we still all protested that no water bottles were allowed anywhere near us during the nearly four-hour test. The room was also a sort of exhibition hall, and on that day were shown blown-up pictures of violence and war from conflicts of recent memory (read: Iraq, Vietnam, Bosnia, Africa). Needless to say, we were all inspired to do well by pictures of blood and gore and sadness and utter hopelessness. I chose to sit underneath a picture of what looked like grieving Bosnian women wailing around their now-dead son. I thought, perhaps, that they were Eastern Orthodox and might have some symbol of religion or hope in the form of a cross. I realized later they were probably Muslim and without any such comfort. One girl went to sit down in a chair and, when she looked up, was startled back out of her seat again. She had sat below the infamous picture showing a group of US soldiers in Vietnam with their backs turned to a presumably-innocent parade of Vietnamese, including one young female victim crying and without any clothes. Clearly frightened and bothered, the test-taker chose a more comfortable spot in front of some Guantanamo Bay detainees. If any of us do poorly on the test, I reckon that at least we’ll have a good excuse.
3. God-willing I’ll leave for Argentina this Friday. My route will go from Buenos Aires, the lively European-like capital on Argentina’s Eastern coast, to Mendoza, Argentina’s primer wine-making region among the Andes Mountains in the Western frontier, to Cordoba, the quiet, colonial, and intellectual town in the center of the country. I probably will be out of touch, but please say a prayer for my safety and well-being on the trip.
4. After my Argentinean excursion, I come back to Asuncion for a while before I finally fly to the States to be home on December 9. God-willing I’ll find work in Ohio, where I’ll be with my family for at least a half-year before I head on off to grad school at Notre Dame, Boston College, Yale, or Duke, or go back to DC to find a job in the nation’s capital.
Thanks for your prayers in everything. My family especially needs them right now. God bless!
1. Jason Jacobs, the fellow to replace me, arrived from Richmond two weeks ago. He stayed with Oscar and Karen a week and then moved in to the house with me and Christian. So far, everything goes real well. Some of our discussions and adventures in the house might make for a good comedy—“Two Missionary Dads Raising a Christian,” or some bad use of words to that effect. You can check out Jason’s blog to get his perspective at jayzilla.com.
2. A week ago Saturday I took the GRE for my graduate school applications. The paper edition is offered once or twice a year in Paraguay at the CCPA, a sort of American-Paraguayan cultural and linguistic exchange center. I arrived around 8 in the morning to find a very large crowd of Peace Corp volunteers who were also taking the test. Most were from the Midwest and looked eerily like me—light hair, blue eyes, and slightly sunburned all around. I met one girl named Ellen who lives in the San Pedro province and who is keeping bees. Apparently Taiwan donated (thank you, obscure South American country, for your vote in the United Nations) a pile of bee-keeping equipment to Paraguay to inspire new forms of sustainable agriculture, but the only person who interested in the project is this fine volunteer from Wisconsin.
The test room was air conditioned like a refrigerator, but we still all protested that no water bottles were allowed anywhere near us during the nearly four-hour test. The room was also a sort of exhibition hall, and on that day were shown blown-up pictures of violence and war from conflicts of recent memory (read: Iraq, Vietnam, Bosnia, Africa). Needless to say, we were all inspired to do well by pictures of blood and gore and sadness and utter hopelessness. I chose to sit underneath a picture of what looked like grieving Bosnian women wailing around their now-dead son. I thought, perhaps, that they were Eastern Orthodox and might have some symbol of religion or hope in the form of a cross. I realized later they were probably Muslim and without any such comfort. One girl went to sit down in a chair and, when she looked up, was startled back out of her seat again. She had sat below the infamous picture showing a group of US soldiers in Vietnam with their backs turned to a presumably-innocent parade of Vietnamese, including one young female victim crying and without any clothes. Clearly frightened and bothered, the test-taker chose a more comfortable spot in front of some Guantanamo Bay detainees. If any of us do poorly on the test, I reckon that at least we’ll have a good excuse.
3. God-willing I’ll leave for Argentina this Friday. My route will go from Buenos Aires, the lively European-like capital on Argentina’s Eastern coast, to Mendoza, Argentina’s primer wine-making region among the Andes Mountains in the Western frontier, to Cordoba, the quiet, colonial, and intellectual town in the center of the country. I probably will be out of touch, but please say a prayer for my safety and well-being on the trip.
4. After my Argentinean excursion, I come back to Asuncion for a while before I finally fly to the States to be home on December 9. God-willing I’ll find work in Ohio, where I’ll be with my family for at least a half-year before I head on off to grad school at Notre Dame, Boston College, Yale, or Duke, or go back to DC to find a job in the nation’s capital.
Thanks for your prayers in everything. My family especially needs them right now. God bless!
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