Church was interesting. Not at all what I am accustomed to- but joy-filled, nonetheless.
The little congregation was outnumbered by the Americano visitors: there were two from a church in Ohio, two more from a church in Indiana, plus the ten of us from Ocala. I don't think there were a dozen Latinos, including children who perpetually wandered in and out. The 'church' was a shed. Apparently last year when the Ocala contingent visited, they had yet to pour a concrete slab for a floor. So not having a dirt floor was a major improvement. The roofing material looked similar to corrugated barn roofing, but was made of some black material, maybe fiberglass, but more likely some form of layered tar-paper. They had some sheets of plywood propped, semi-secured around the sides to act as walls, though the only extended to about chest height. There was a raised area where the minister would stand of concrete across the front of the church, probably about 9 inches higher than the smooth concrete area (where there were three handmade wooden pews and a number of folding chairs). The minister had a hand-made podium/speakers stand (from the trunk of a tree, carefully sanded and varnished after the bark was removed) for the Bible and notes.
And they had two ceiling fans affixed to the rafters which former attendees said was a true blessing. The supports and uprights for the roof were all logs, with bark peeled off, and smaller trees/saplings used to hold the roofing in place. So, saving on expenses of building supplies by scavenging in the undergrowth, and using slices of discarded garden hose to help cushion/secure the nails when they attached the roofing to the network of crosspieces/trees they found for supporting the pieces of corrugated material that keep off rain and sun.
The service started, after youngsters handed out printed Order of Service with both morning and evening schedules listed, with singing from hymnals (naturally printed in Spanish.) I found words I could mentally translate in the bulletin and hymns when I would sound them out phonetically, and was surprised to discover so many words I could understand. After twenty-five years of being a Presbyterian, the Order/sequence was mostly easy to follow... especially with words that were readily recognizable like 'offertory', that though spelled a bit differently were apparent with some thought and mumbling under my breath.
Even though I understood practically nothing of what was said, the lyrics to the songs, or message from Pastor Juan, I had no problem with an awareness of standing in the Presence of the Holy Spirit. Sweet.
After the service, we milled around in the dust of the church yard and introduced ourselves to people who had names we could not pronounce or remember. And divided up to get on the two vans that had brought us from the hotel, along with several of the church members to drive out into neighborhoods and distribute flyers, invite kids to attend VBS in the evenings during the week.
Planned neighborhoods were another eye-opening experience. We drove a couple of miles away from the area where the church lot is located, into a large district that I later found out was designed and built with government funds. The houses all shared a wall with another home, similar to the way we build apartments and housing projects, and built in rows around a U-shaped street, with rows on the inner and outer sides of the U. Each house was probably less in size, square footage than the average two car garage. All the houses I saw had bars on the windows and doors. All had a small front yard, and a space behind the structure that was shared with the house behind it. Most houses had clotheslines strung up criss-crossing the front grassy area, where there was a paved sidewalk leading up to the front door, that was usually standing open, hoping for a stray breeze, as well as paved strips for a car to be parked on, which were rare.
It became apparent the church member who was with our small group of gringos was noticing children's toys in front of the houses, or small articles of clothing hung out to dry that would identify families with potential VBS attendees. We must have given out 75 to 100 flyers in that neighborhood on a blistering hot afternoon. I had been told in years past there had been over 100 attending as numbers swelled during the week, including parents and babies, so they were hoping for a good response to the invitations.
Went back to re-assemble at the church, and then go on vans to air-conditioned paradise of hotel. Where we find the housekeepers always turn the ceiling fans and AC off when they come in to clean rooms. But clean they did. Everything was pretty much spotless when we would unlock the door to fall in every afternoon, flopping on the bed with the fan turned up the speed of possible vertical takeoff. Housekeeping left a little envelope on the night stand every day, and we were informed that the 'expected' tip for their services was two dollars per day. And since the US dollar had more value than pesos, they would naturally prefer to see George Washington's tight-lipped face when they check the envelope.
I have no idea what we ate for lunch. But we had to go back again for the evening service, that was just as muggy hot as the morning. Me still wearing borrowed clothes, but at least I took off the shorts I had been wearing for two days, that I had on under the loaned (but pocket-less) black skirt, since I thought I needed to keep my valuables on my person at all times. So mentally I was cooler with one less piece of clothing, where that aligns with reality or not.
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