The Least of These

News Flash- The soul touchers are now causing choas in Mexico! Since arriving only days ago we have recieved a warm welcome from the church here and our host family. Lorna and I have settled swiftly into the Mexican way enjoying dances in the park, tacos and even the national ballet, which was an amazing display of typical costumes, music and dancing.

Although relitively upbeat we were left slightly traumatised at having to leave our dearest friends in Gautemala, not to mention our beloved frijoles and platano fritos! We actually don´t have words to decribe our experience in Gautemala, hence the long silence. It was a rollercoaster or events, emotions and friendships.



Not only because of our reunion with our favourite Mexi-americans, living in Argentina, teaching in Guatemala and generally painting the whole world beautiful, friends Tim and Annette Gulick but for lots of other reasons as well.

Starting with the church, Shekinah. A church that selflessly serves and wholeheartedly loves the community it´s in. In the heart of Gautemala city this church has a heart for Guatemalan people, which was a blessing to watch. Spending afternoons helping serve food in the Lord´s Kitchen to literally hundreds of homeless men, women, children and families was only a token gesture of gratitude and and support of the work that goes on day after day through the ministry of Shekinah. A token gesture from us but one that left a lasting impression of what compassion actaully looks like. As hundreds of people: people who live, work and fight on the streets to survive, queued patiently waiting to be fed I looked upon ¨the least of these¨. Despite the alcohol that used to numb pains and ease cravings, drugs that are taken and the inhumane lifestyle these people suffer there was no anger or hostility in that kitchen. Many came in hungry and they were fed; fed with hope shared with them by the staff in the Lord´s Kitchen. Fed by compassionate hands of people who love them, people who day after day want to show them the love of Jesus. And so as I watched them enter one by one, children, tranvestites, prostitues, the, least, of, these: I was in awe. As well as eternally grateful for the hands of those that serve and for the presence of God in that place. All eating together round tables of six not one hand was raised in anger or one voice raised in drunken agitation but instead a chorus of a hearts cry was sung. People hungry, yes for food but more so for the presence of the holy spirit. No utterence of complaint was heard when asked to wait to be seated or to enter the small service being held for those who wished to attend. One gentlemen actually refused to eat until he had heard the message being proclaimed by Debbie (Pastor Debbie Flores) that day. And so as I write this from another country I can still see his children, the ones serving and the ones being served. My lasting impression is not what one might think. It is not of the rags they were clothed in, nor the stench of alcohol that plagued the air. When I close my eyes and even in the brightness of the Mexican sun I can see them clearly. Those extravegant worshippers in Gautemala. Those who blessed our lives by being themselves and allowing us to join them. Those who truly worship with their lives and not only with words. It no longer scares me to read that faith without deeds is dead because I have seen faith, deeds and the life that those two combined brings to the least of God´s people. And so we said, what can only be described as a hyterically traumatic yet fun (as is everything they do) good bye to the young people of Shekinah. Our last night of pizza and chatting around Agueda´s living room table was a reminder of why we love them. Because they are a generation of young, beautiful, talented, inteligent individuals that give it all to God.












They continue to search for more of him and so as much as we´d love to take the credit for them wanting to hang out with us, the truth is that the reason for us hanging around each other so much is that the presence of God was with us. That and the fact that Lorna really is very funny which helps! They are awesome and we miss them already!










Ok so I like I said I really cant describe all that has gone on in the last month The life of the church here is so vast. We´ve visited children´s ministries, churches outwith the city, clinics, homes and even a baby shower! But I know that however painful it may feel to leave the peolpe who have blessed our lives, fed our tummies (with the most delicious food ever, ever, ever) and nurtured our spirits for the past month I am totally, ridiculously excited. Excited to no that we have left but that the work continues. That tonight Josepi with go out onto the streets to feed and to share the homeless. That the team in the Lord´s kitchen will continue to show compassion; that Agueda and Walter will continue to host the young people who flock into their home; that the musicians will be practising, commited to the responsibility they have been given of opening up hearts for worship and that Pastor Alvaro and Debbie will continue to nurture this awesome part of God´s army that they are leading.

I hope that as you read this you are blessed knowing that in Guatemala there is a generation living for God. Without lights, without camermas but with action. We love you eternally Erica and Lorna xxx

Church Without Walls

Then I said to them, "You see the trouble we are in: Jerusalem lies in ruins, and its gates have been burned with fire. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, and we will no longer be in disgrace." Neh 2:17

"Examining the walls of Jerusalem." The first time I read this, or rather Lorna read this verse to me, I didn't really know what it meant. It sounded like a job set for a person much more capable; spiritual; biblical than me and to be honest at times it still does but that does not eliminate the fact that when you make yourself available to God he will literally take you up on the offer. When you ask God to use you he will and so we continue to love every minute of the job we´ve been given; the job we asked for.

I had no idea that examining the walls meant gaining a global perspective of the church around the world. I had no idea that when i stepped out of the walls of my home church building I would enter into a kingdom so magnificent - superdooper - fandabydosey that it would be difficult for me to describe. However, I will try.

Church Without Walls is a name, a concept, a ministry that is commonly used to describe the efforts of congregations in Scotland to break down the walls of the churches they are in. It is the daily effort they make to communicate with each other and have relation with each other. This often takes the form of organising worship events for whole communities and/or neighbouring parishes coming together to praise and learn. It is an emphasis put on the necessity of relationships, without which we are not the church.

This enthusiasm to share visions, materials, testimonies and faith stories has blessed the people in Scotland and because of God´s favor on it this ministry has grown. The concept of being a Church Without Walls is quickly moving throughout the nations and because of our availability to be moved by the spirit, or rather our inability to contain it, we are becoming a World Without Walls- or at least how we know them in the literal sense, made from bricks, cement and hard work. And so from the realisation that the construction of mammoth church buildings were in actual fact preventing unity and destroying relationships the concept of a World Without Walls was birthed.

Originally bringing people from all over the world "World Without Walls" ministry sought to train people in film making, providing them with the training and equipment they would need to be able to share their testimonies from anywhere and everywhere in the world - to and from the ends of the earth.

Since then all those involved have planned, practised and prayed that using media, film and the Internet we would be able to eliminate the physical walls of the church, which do nothing but create barriers of difference and hoard cliques anyway. In short and the idea of walls being broken down in order to allow unity to grow has been at the heart of the whole ministry.

It might seem weird to people that in order to build something we must first destroy it. However the deconstruction of these physical walls is necessary in order to construct the spiritual walls God intends to be to unite his nations.

When you build anything you have an architect, a designer or someone who comes up with the plan of how it should look and the purpose it will serve. When I was home in May I had the complete joy of running round the new (and greatly improved) Wallace High School (the school in which I taught,loved, laughed and generally stressed out in before I left Scotland). The new school looks amazing. Although I almost knocked myself out with the automatic entrance doors I survived the tour relatively unscathed. Clean, fresh corridors now replace the old manky ones that once were. Air and light flood social areas "stimulating creativity" and huge plazma T.V screens....well I´m not sure what they are for but they look cool.

The new school has replaced a building that was deemed completely and utterly redundant. Infact it was so useless that none of the materials were used to construct the new one. They didn't transfer the old rusty pipes into the new-almost futuristic fanzabydosey automatic toilet flushing system in the new school nor did they transport the fungi infested bricks from the old but instead used a new more environmentally friendly (I´m sure) material to construct the fancy new school.

OK so I'm exaggerating I don't think everything is automatic but I do know that the environment that has been created was build with a very specific design brief. It fulfills its purpose: to educate children. Has the building changed the learning environment? Absolutely! Has it changed the learning experience? I hope not. The building is fantastic but it only serves to accommodate the already amazing people who occupy it. In the same way our church buildings only serve as a resource to create an environment that accommodates the people who occupy them.

Now when Lorna read that verse in Neh (examining the walls) my initial thought was, ´I have no place to examine anything or anybody´ and secondly ´where and who are the walls?´ Tonight I stood infront of one of them. Let me explain.

We (Soul Touch) are in Guatemala now and are pleased to report that this is one wall - one part of God´s kingdom- that is being build on firm foundations and they are building one by one - stone by stone - soul by soul.

built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone.
In Him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being build together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his spirit.Eph 2:20-22

This week we have visited church after church, prayer meeting and prayer meeting, youth services, women's groups and worship services. Some have taken place in church buildings, some in houses, universities, soup kitchens, people´s living rooms, hospitals, brothels and on the streets of Guatemala City. Most of these ministries are orchestrated by Shekinah, a church full to overflowing with God´s favor and so in turn responsibility.

Guatemala is a country where at least 80% of its population are Christian. A nation that have Jesus Christ as their cornerstone and who are building faithfully on his foundations.

Diligently and obediently they are trying hard not to repeat old mistakes - like the school their old materials have been buried because they are deemed surplus to requirements. Instead they are committed to rebuilding his temple and are completely crying out ( trust me sometimes these guys are LOUD!) to be remoulded and rebuilt by his word and his favor.

Last week I stood at the back of a college auditorium. The band leading worship are ridiculously blessed and so the worship was amazing but as I stood behind the other students I realised what Lorna had meant 13 months ago when she faithfully read Neh to me. Before me I saw a wall. Each student a living breathing, walking talking moving part of the bride of Jesus Church.

Then I said to them, "You see the trouble we are in: Jerusalem lies in ruins, and its gates have been burned with fire. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, and we will no longer be in disgrace." Neh 2:17

For a long time our church has been in disgrace because we have been using our own design brief - what we want, what makes us feel good. Instead of entering the church building planning to bring something to worship we often enter expecting others to contribute to our experience and then complain when they don´t.

I thank God that those days are finished. That everyday of this year I have stood with people crying out to be made new. And that he has heard that cry. That here in Guatemala the people within the buildings want to lay aside the surplus materials: selfishness, pride, laziness and especially independence and start rebuilding a spiritual host where God will dwell;

Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. Isaiah 58:12

I answered them by saying, "The God of heaven will give us success. We his servants will start rebuilding! "Neh 2:20

So I am loving this job. Seeing that the building has already started to look stunning but it cant be complete until every stone is put in place. My prayer is that you would only know how utterly valuable you are in the body of Christ; in his church. That you would see yourself as part of something much bigger than the world would have us believe. That you have been chosen by God to be part of this church and that no other stone (no other person) can fulfill the role you play in the kingdom. No one else can take your part in the wall. Firstly cause they´ve got their own job to complete but also because without you we all feel incomplete.

I want you very quickly to imagine a brick wall. It´s a new house being built and the builders are waiting to put the roof on. All four walls are complete and the wee baldy guys operating the crane is waiting to drop the roof on. Now look closer at the wall. You notice some bricks are missing. There is a whole in the wall where your new bathroom will be. There are some bricks missing in your bedroom. You notice that especially around the top of the building the bricks are scarce. You immediately notify the baldy crane guy and tell him to wait. Why? Because you recognise that you cannot complete the building until every brick is in place. Yeah sure you might be able to put the roof on but who would want to live in a house with holes in all of the walls; in a house that is short of perfection?

The church is made up of people not bricks. Spiritual people who were made to be joined together in order to be able to host a magnificent God. God (not that I would ever want to compare God to a baldy crane guy)is waiting. He is waiting for every person to be put together so that he can dwell in that place; in his Kingdom.

As we travel around the world we see young people, old people of all different colours, shapes and sizes. Some have a lot of money, some have no money at all. Yet regardless of all of these things thay are equal and not one is more neccesary than the other because none of us can be complete until we are joined with the other.

Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. Eph 2:19-20

We still have some more churches to visit and have not yet finished our work here with Shekinah in Guatemala but we just wanted to take some time out to fill you in on something that is so exciting and truely beautiful that you would see how wonderful and totally neccessary you are.

"Look at the nations and watch—
and be utterly amazed.
For I am going to do something in your days
that you would not believe,
even if you were told. Habbukuk 1:5


We love you abundantly Soul Touch xxx

Bringing His Kingdom in

From singing in my first ever official international concert in Lima, Peru to speaking to people in the backpackers here in Costa Rica this month has been another adventure in our lives and in the lives of those we’ve met. Sandwiched between my debut performance (hahaha) and the days we’ve spent sharing with other happy wonderers have been events which have taught me many things. Starting with the how to balance vertically in mid air on a skinny clowns hands without injuring either of us. A random and admittedly unnecessary lesson however I had no choice in the matter. Nor did Lorna as the Argentinean acrobat proceeded to volunteer the Soul Touchers to participate in his little performance, much to the amusement of the audience and the embarrassment of us, who in turn ended up looking more ridiculous than the clown himself as I’m sure you can imagine.

We arrived in Costa Rica only four days ago and are departing on Tica’s 1am bus to Guatemala first thing tomorrow morning (or later tonight which ever you want to look at it). Although short, our time here has certainly been…..no not sweet: challenging, yes; frustrating, yes; incredible, yes and worthwhile….most definitely. Almost as challenging as our time being here was our time getting here.

We spent our final two weeks in Peru in wonderful company. Separated for the first time, in Soul Touch history, since leaving Scotland in 28th June 2007 Lorna and I were sent to opposite ends of Lima. As you can imagine we reacted as if we were being sent to opposite ends of the earth but that’s another story and a challenge we not only got over but one we learned to enjoy and were ultimately completely blessed by.

Feeling slightly apprehensive we entered our hosts houses. Houses that within the weeks we spent there became our homes, with strangers who became close friends. Juana and Carmen are staff with Union Biblica Peru. They are part of an amazing team of people, some staff and some volunteers, who teach “valores” (values) to the children of Lima.

I have no idea what amount of mileage we covered in one day but from the time we woke at 6am heading for our first bus (along with the rest of the cities population) until we collapsed of the couch at 6pm it appeared we were traveling: to schools, between schools in pursuit of other schools. Surviving the chaos of Lima´s traffic, not to mention near suffocation from the amount of people wedged into every bus, we went from school to school.

In each we were given an opportunity to share our own testimonies with the children, an experience I particularly enjoyed. When the initial excitement, of having a ´gringa visitor´, died down and the squealing became quiet enough to compete with (there was no way it was going to stop completely) I pulled out a giant map of the world. Excitedly all hands shot up despite no question having been asked and class by class the children guessed where this freckly visitor was from. The majority assumed Spain or even Peru and so that explains why they persisted to chatter incessantly as fast as their little lips would allow them to, in Spanish. Meanwhile somewhere across the dusty city a blonde, blue eyed (very beautiful) gringa was giving a variation of the same presentation, sharing her version of the events of the past 12 months and in return being asked for her autograph. “Americano, Americano, Americano” was the general consensus given regarding this gorgeous girl’s (Miss Main’s) origin and so I’m sure they were all a little bemused when she and I told them we were infact from “Escosia”.

The chidlren’s reaction generally differed depending on the age group. Obliviously content with not knowing (and not really caring) the younger children applauded their gringa visitors. Others nodded demonstrating some level of understanding and then there were the few (there always are) who told us where Scotland was: in England. Others seemed completely content continuing to believe we, or at least Lorna was indeed American. I feel a bit responsible however for the fact that there are lots of little Peruvian children who now think American men wear “skirts” (kilts) and who truly believe we are related to William Wallace.

There was a message shared however that was much more articulately communicated and most definitely understood. That was the message being taught by Juana and Carmen. The message of Jesus’ love for each individual child. It was a message that didn’t really even require the props or visual aids we’d prepared. As I shared and listened to these women share I saw, I heard that these children understood it. Squeals turned into deep breaths as little children gasped at Juana’s exciting stories about a God that loves them. Jaws dropped and huge breaths were taken as if each one was breathing in the gospel for the first time, which they weren’t these women travel each week to share with the children. The courtesy shown earlier by children raising theire hands to ask a question was long forgotten as innocent curiousity blurted out all sorts across classrooms filled with children wanting answers.

Now, some hundred miles away, (17 hours on a bus to be exact) Lorna and I are witnessing the same reactions and having to answer some very similar questions, although this time not from little children. Arriving in Costa Rica we booked into Costa Rica backpackers. As far as backpackers go it’s actually very comfortable, if you don’t mind being wakened by the constant coming and going of travelers at literally all times of day and night and if you don’t take the antics of the excitable Argentinean clown too personally.

It’s been a comfortable and equally uncomfortable stay for some of the following reasons. Firstly we arrived with the familiar feeling of “ Lord what are we doing here?’ Asking familiar questions like, “ did we really hear a call from God to come?” “ Did we imagine all of this?” ¨Should we or could we have organized this better?’ And so they go on…or at least they can if we allow these sorts doubts to infest our spirits, seeking to steal our joy.

Immediately we set about trying to find a church, thinking that was most certainly our purpose for being here; consoling ourselves and each other with the illusion that once we found one we would instantly feel better and then the real mission would be able to commence. Yeah I know you are laughing at us right now. It’s ok we are laughing at ourselves right now too.

On our first morning here we were woken at 4am by some girls leaving to catch a sunset and so we made use of our disposition. We set about driving ourselves and each other crazy by furiously sending out emails and stalking friends on facebook in hope that they could assist us in our search for a church. Within 24hours we still had no contact and so approached plan B: using our time to be productive. Facebook stalking reached a ´whole nuther level¨ and Taco Jim’s (a new friend by divine appointment) laptop threatened to burn out as we typed letters, proposals and all things business like.
We did all of these things in an attempt not to panic that we had become missionaries without a mission (or at least an obvious one; one that we could justify to the church). In the middle of the chaos we were subconsciously creating: over loading ourselves with word documents and trying to upload photos on one hundred year old computers, an activity that could potentially send even the sanest of sane people insane, we found our mission. Or rather our mission found us. We found the church we were looking for. God brought the church to us and met us right where we were, in Costa Rica backpackers. And so for the past four days we have talked and talked and talked. We’ve answered questions and questioned answers. In truth it has been one of the most exhausting “ missions” I’ve ever been on and it continues. It’s called life.

Let me share with you a spot of bother we got ourselves into the last time we went in search of the church. Last Sunday we were in Panama, we are making our way from Peru to Guatemala where our next “project’ begins. When we woke we noticed the sun was shinning, a rarity that we wanted to take advantage of. So we packed a few things ready for a day at the beach. Piling ourselves into a taxi we asked Elizabeth (female driver) to take us to the beach, a journey which according to lonely planet should have taken ten minutes. Forty minutes later, by which time the sun had gone back behind panama’s permanent cloud, we arrived at a beach. No not “Playa Bonita” as requested but a beach chosen by Elizabeth, our taxi driver, a women not to be messed with. Elizabeth told us not to worry it looked dangerous but she would accompany us into the water and would not leave our sides…which she didn’t!

Making the most of a really weird situation we chatted with Elizabeth about her family, our families, Panama, Scotland and about God. She was so excited to hear about our mission and informed us that she knew about a church that actually welcomed missionaries from abroad. She even offered to take us to the church with no additional charge as her “favor” to us.
“¿Podemos cambiamos nuestros ropas, por favor Elizabeth? Antes nosotros vamos a la Iglesia.”
As politely as possible we tried to explain that we would feel much more comfortable if we could change our clothes before going to the church. She insisted there was no time and that this was Panama. It would be fine.

With little (no) choice in the matter we arrived at the church. “I’ll be back in half an hour go and talk,” Elizabeth said inviting us to leave the taxi. As we approached the church we watched some men enter. All appearing to be wearing the same uniform black trouser and white shirt I joked “either there is a meeting or this is a mormon church.” It wasn’t a joke. Elizabeth had emptied us out into a mormon church, beach gear and all.

Lets just say we weren’t invited in but we did have a fun time trying to explain to the gentlemen at the door what an earth we were doing in Panama and that we were traveling around the world on a “missions” trip. His reaction was similar to some of the children’s in Peru, his mouth dropped and he too looked a bit dazed and confused.

Turns out we needn’t have put ourselves through the stress or embarrassment of trying to find a church.

“ You also, like living stones are being built into a spiritual house…” 1 Peter 2: 5

We are the church. I’m learning that the body that Paul describes as coming together is not only about all the congregations of the world having a massive worship fest . It is much more than that. It is about individual living stones. Individual people living as the church in their everyday lives. Whether it is in a youth hostel you never really expected to be in, in Costa Rica, in a taxi in Panama, which you’re being held in against your will, in your work place or in those times you’re involved in a “missions project”. During all of those times we represent the body of Christ. This is the church God is calling.

Come let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem and we will no longer be in disgrace. Neh 2:17

Lorna and I are leaving the hostel at 1am. Our time here has been intensely wonderful. So many people traveling have stopped their journey, their search for themselves, some just for a second, some for hours to spend time with us. Even when we’ve avoided conversation (yes we are that rude and tired sometimes) they have started them, they like the children in Peru want to hear of the Living God and their purpose in his kingdom.

We have loved sharing with them although it has meant a little less sleep than usual. We have two days on a bus to Guatamala to catch up on sleep. But we’ll miss the church here. The church God brought to us: his people.

Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

¨God is not unjust; he will not forget your works and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them. Hebrews 5: 9

Scattered sporadically across the auditorium floor,snuggled under blankets, heads resting on makeshift pillows: made out of jumpers; shorts t-shirts and clothes ready to be donated, the newest arrivals catch a few z´s before their next plane departs. As the last of the head torches closes its eyes I use the light of mobile phone to maneuver my way through the mattresses, equipped with my hot water bottle, johnston´s baby wipes and ear plugs (I´ve been here before!). Outside the chaos of Lima plays on, a lullaby that’s neither gentle nor maternal. Harsh discords of car horns, squeals of emergency sirens and the voices of Lima’s 8 million inhabitants clash with the chatter and giggling spilling its way out of the bedroom window opposite.


The bedroom opposite is occupied by some of Peru’s most vulnerable children. Known to many as ¨street boys¨ these children have been abandoned by their parents and now take residency in the filthy sewers or desolate doorways of Lima. Thankfully my sleep on this occasion is slightly more peaceful knowing that some of these little ones are safe here in the centre, Girasoles (The Sunflower Centre): as a sunflower blooms when the sun shines on it so these boys shine in the precious glow of God´s love shown to them by the workers here. The staff work patiently and sensitively to rehabilitate the boys, many of whom have stepped in from a street full of drugs and prostitution. This centre is a little haven for many children, tired and mistreated by the city it hides in.


Union Biblica (Scripture Union) is an international Christian organization. As a child I remember horse riding along the banks of the River Earn in Perthshire. Being sent off to camp for the summer was a highlight of my school holidays. I remember sharing bunk beds with other girls my age, exchanging stories about boys in our various schools and how annoying they were. In the morning we´d wake to leaders encouraging us to read our bibles, dusting them first having never opened them since the previous years camp. I always took a new packet of highlighters and made summer resolutions that I would actually learn the rainbow of verses I coloured that year. Camp ended round the camp fire, with songs, exchanging of addresses, tears and too many marshmallows. For me this was Scripture Union.

I never imagined that ten years later I would be at the other side of the world (Peru), sharing bunk beds with girls my age (still exchanging stories about boys) and highlighting my bible. Some things however have definitely changed. I no longer take my My Little Pony to camp and I´ve exchanged horse riding in Perthshire for swimming in the Itaya River (a tributary of the Amazon, the largest River in the world). Furthermore my experience of Scripture Union consists of more than camp fires and marshmallows.

Scripture Union Peru ministers in several different areas: working with abandoned children; teaching values to children in schools; working with Lima’s deaf community; hosting and organizing camps and organizing a hugely successful medical ministry, thanks to the generosity, friendship and prayers of their partners The Vine Trust, a ministry birthed out of Bo´ness Scotland. (www.vinetrust.org)

For many of you who have traveled to Peru to help with either a medical party or with a work team sleeping in the Girasoles Centre will have been a memorable experience, admittedly not necessarily a comfortable one but assuredly unforgettable. Arriving in Girasoles for the first of the hundredth time has an impact on your life.

It seems like only hours after I bundled myself into my sleeping bag that I reluctantly peeped my head out. Wakened by the sound of a football being kicked around the pitch below, the sound of Pablo Lavado´s (director of the Casa Girasoles) voice ushering the boys to get ready for school and Ashley. Ashley, a member of the New Braska/ North Carolina/ Scottish work team, is the most stunningly cooky girl I´ve ever had the pleasure to be woken up by.

Still wrapped in the blanket she ¨borrowed¨ from the flight Ashley crashes onto the mattress next to me. It´s only after she lands that I realize Lorna has vacated it to take position in the queue for the shower (singular!). Sleepily I scan the room. Interestingly I find the boys have made a cluster in farthest corner allowing the girls to occupy the area in front of the door, heroic or what. This morning is the first of many that I bare the wrath of ¨Daddy Cool´s ¨ wake up call, or rather roar! Daddy Cool, Pastor Adam, is our team leader. Although this morning it is slightly difficult to take anything he says seriously given that the jumper he picked out of the donations pile actually belonged to a petite female (Ashley’s mum) before he decided to model it. The combination of Adam´s roar and Ashley´s hysteria frightens some of the boys from our team out of their cocoons and they make their way down stairs to join in the game.

Christian and Marsha (whom by the way are both looking far too wide awake and glamorous given where they’ve just slept and the fact that we’re on our way to the jungle) spectate from one of the windows overlooking the boys dinning hall. Excitedly they chatter pointing out boys they know, calling them by name. I learn very quickly that the majority of this team have been to Peru before and almost everyone speaks Spanish: an absolute blessing.

Breakfast for me this morning is an exciting time, both because we get to share it with the boys of Girasoles but because I am reunited with one boy in particular, Luis. Summer of 2004 was the first time I ever came to Peru. I didn´t speak any Spanish and my head was so occupied with planning my 21st birthday party before I left that I really wasn’t prepared for what I would experience here. I seem to remember I packed my bag full of toilet rolls, I had two first aid kits (just incase) and I´d forgotten one of the most important items, my malaria tablets.

We arrived late at night, or at least I thought it was late. I´ve since learned that Lima lives under a permanently grey sky and it gets dark very early. Anyway, after passing all of our backpacks through the back window of a bus we somehow arrived in the middle of the boys football pitch/playground. Immediately the adults with whom I´d traveled lost all composer and entered into hand slapping games and thumb wars reminiscent of the school playground, others wrestled their cameras out of the clammy hands of children desperate to see themselves and I, amongst all of this, met Luis. Unable to communicate with words Luis and I danced to my slightly stuttery version of La Bamba (thanks Kareekee). I remember our dance being momentarily interrupted by something much more exciting…dulces (sweets). Luis, at that time, was only 7 years old. As one of the smaller boys he managed to salvage only one strawberry lace from the huge bags of sweets Jackie was distributing from. Very quickly he escaped the rabble and came over stretching out his hand to me, I assumed to resume dancing. Luis held out a tiny clenched fist gesturing me to look inside. Unraveling it he revealed his strawberry lace. Stretching it out he broke it in half. ¨Para ti¨ (for you) he smiled handing me one half of the sweaty lace. Receiving this lace from a little boy in Lima was one of the most painful blessings I´ve ever been given. Painful to think that Luis, a child abandoned by his parents, shunned by society and all alone in this world would share his sweet with a ¨Gringa¨ girl he’d just met, simply because she’d taken the time to go, meet him and sing with him.

The next morning we woke and like many teams since we rushed to catch our domestic flight to Iquitos where we worked on one of Union Biblica´s seven Girasoles homes.

Boys Homes
These homes are situated in some of the most idyllic locations in world, like the home in Cusco Lorna described in her last letter to you all. Iquitos is no exception. Like everything in Iquitos Casa Girasoles is built on stilts (the rain fall conducts the rise and fall of the river and the PO box of it’s residents) set far back on one of the rivers lush green banks. Hidden amidst banana plants, fruit trees and it´s natural inhabitants (crocodiles, electric eels, anacondas, monkeys, pumas, tarantulas and banana boats loads of cucarachas) Puerto Alegria is discreet.


Hammocks hang all year round from roof tops made of deep stained (expertly sanded) wood beams and skillfully pleated bamboo leaves provide permanent shelter and protection from the sun by day and wildlife by night. However, despite the apparent tranquility of it’s surroundings Puerto Alegria is impossible to miss. This place is home to forty absolutely adorable, scrumdidilyumtious little boys, all of whom have come from the streets. Each boy, like Luis back in Lima, has his own story to tell as to how he came to be living on the streets and more excitedly how he became a Girasole boy. (Paul Clark, Driector of Union Biblica Peru has recently published a book in which he shares some of these precious testimonies. Southern Cross www.amazon books.org)

For me these boys are no longer ¨street boys¨. They are children who literally have been taken from the miry clay and have been called by name, children whom despite abandonment were predestined to be adopted into God´s family (Ephesians 1:4 and 5, Isaiah 49: 15-23). These are the children who will rebuild the walls (Isaiah 58:12 ). Here I see children with huge potentials, beautiful spirits and frighteningly special smiles. Smiles so big that they almost completely detract from the scars written on their heads, their little arms, their legs and the ones that penetrate deep in into their big brown eyes. Scars caused by abandonment and abuse. Although there is obvious healing here these scars that sometimes bare themselves in tears, tantrums and nightmares.

This year it was a real education for me to be able to share, for the first time, with some of the boys. To hear their hopes; their fears for the future. What was more of a joy though was to hear the commitment of the team I was with and the burden God has placed on each of their hearts to pray for these children individually. For me this contribution is worth more than we will ever know.

Each team that comes contributes to one, or more, of the homes helping practically by painting, making mud bricks or as we have been doing most recently sanding and varnishing.


I remember feeling a certain amount of despondency the first time I came. Having been in Lima and heard some of the atrocities the boys face on the streets (prostitution, physical, verbal and emotional abuse) I couldn´t help but feel that me making mud bricks just wasn´t enough and that I definitely wasn´t making them fast enough.

I thank God that by his grace I don´t have to really on my efforts but on his plans. Since that first dark night arriving in Peru I have returned every year and this year I think more than ever I have realized that I´m part of a part of a plan so much bigger than we could ever anticipate or pen on a piece of paper.

Aswell as seeing the homes being built and hundreds of boys being rescued from the streets I have seen the boys grow. Boys like Luis who is now in school persuing an education and a future. As I ate breakfast with him this time he laughed and sang ¨Para bailar la Bamba¨. I asked him if he remembered sharing his sweetie with me and he smiled, squinting as if it was no big deal, I´m sure wondering what on earth it is I was talking about. His smile reminded me of the smile I´ve seen on the faces of so many volunteers. A smile that almost looks embarrassed. I smile that says: ´I didn´t do it to be blessed or to get thanks but I did it to bless you, please don´t make a fuss´.

Luis´s smile has echoed on the faces of the team we’ve been a part of this week. A team who each year come to Puerto Alegria, Iquitos and who, despite the humidity and an insane amount of hungry mosquitoes, work hard. This year we were contributing to the completion of five new bungalows. A team whose confidence is quite clearly in the works of God and not in their own strength. (¨It does not, therefore, depend on man´s effort, but on God´s mercy. For the scripture says to Pharaoh: ´I raised you up for this very purpose, that I might display my power in you and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.¨ Romans 9:16 and 17. )

It was quite simply ironic that as we floated up the Itaya river I sat out front on the boat listening to one of my favourite songs. Listening to Joel Houston´s sexy voice (am I allowed to say that?) belting out a chorus I know so well: ¨Jesus I believe in you and I would go to the ends of the earth, to the ends of the earth for you. For you alone are the son of God and all will see that you are God.¨

This year as we approached the familiar raft that floats out front of Puerto Alegria and as I clambered my way back into the boat, the chorus still playing in my head I suddenly realized that the people around me were doing exactly that. Trust me Puerto Alegria really does feel like the end of the earth when you´re there. What´s more as I got to know the wacky bunch from New Braska God confirmed what I´d thought all along: that he´d hand picked each of them ¨for this very purpose¨. ¨You did not chose me but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit- fruit that will last. Then the father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other.¨ John 15:16

Throughout the course of this journey Lorna and I have talked lots about making your call and election clear…in other words how we know what God wants us to do with our lives? We´ve talked about neon signs, about God´s desire to have an intimate personal relationship with you. I love this scripture because it´s almost idiot proof. It´s for those of us (myself included) that have those days when we don’t know where to go or what to do. We stress that what we´re doing just isn´t enough to show our love for God. The team´s interaction with the boys this year taught me that instead of constantly checking if we´re loving God enough we should be checking if we´re loving each other enough. It is doing this that we really worship (Math 25: 35-41).

Fortunately for us the boys in Puerto Alergria and completely loveable and so that makes this part of the commandment slightly easier for us to obey. However there are people who are slightly more ¨challenging¨ shall we say. People who do not willingly receive they love we want to give them. Usually because they do not understand or necessarily agree with the way we are delivering it and so this presents a problem. Or does it?

It´s time to share a wee harsh reality that I learned in Puerto Alegria during one of our singsongy sessions with the boys before bed. In order for you to understand fully I need to introduce you to Gabino. Gabino has lived in Puerto Alegria since he was 7 years old. At 18 Gabino is now a handsome, extremely intelligent young man. As well as a smile that lights up the whole world, Gabino brings a peaceful almost parental aura to the home. Gabino is the hand the little ones reach for when their in trouble. More so he is completely humble about the fact that all of the other boys, young and old respect him wholeheartedly. You can imagine their despair then when suddenly after 10 year Gabino left the home and returned to Iquitos, sacrificing his prospects of finishing school and pursuing the degree he wants in Medicine.

Now I´m not about to bore you with the details of why he left, firstly because I don´t know them all and secondly it´s not appropriate. I would not like it if someone came into my home and then proceeded to air all of our problems in public. My intention is merely to demonstrate what I´ve learned.

Another extremely neccessay and wonderful part of the ministry here is that each home has a set of house parents. We mentioned earlier (in previous entries) that each couple dedicates their lives (or at least a substantial part of them) to raising these boys (all forty of them). The house parents at PA are no exception. Everyday Jean and Patty get up at 5am and dedicate their day to these boys. You can imagine then that know them pretty well. Imagine now their reaction when we arrived and asked where Gabino was and then proceeded to bombard them with a whole list of suggestions as to how we could bring him back. Of course we wanted Gabino to come back because we saw that, that was what was best for him; because we love him. However in displaying that love it was necessary for us to be sensitive to the house parents, Gabino and to the culture. This required patience, humility and understanding, none of which I´m expert in but I´m working on them.

I want you to imagine now the day Gabino returned home. Think back to the story of the prodigal son and there you have the joy we experienced when Gabino´s giant smile entered the dinning room. The ceiling was laden with streamers and balloons, as we were also celebrating several of the boys and team member’s birthdays that evening. In typically Casa Girasoles style a lifelike Spiderman hung precariously from the roof, his belly stuffed full of sweets and toys that would latter spill into the arms of the expectant and extremely excitable niños (children) below.

The night ended with some Scottish dancing and one last rendition of the ¨Peanut Butter Jelly¨ song Mama Marsha style. Finally as I prepared my sleeping bag for bed, crushing the last of the cocarachas beneath Lorna´s workboots (I´m not sure if the impact killed them or they were suffocated by the smell but needless to say they didn´t live to see day light) I thanked God for his mercy. Basically for saving me from myself. You see if I´d had my own way we would have all been on the first banana boat to Iquitos running about in my usual ¨bull in a china shop fashion¨ looking for Gabino. Then having found him I would have explained in my worst Spanglish that he was to come home. Ok I don’t need to elaborate you can imagine it would have been a nightmare. A nightmare conducted in love but never the less a nightmare.

What´s more I thanked God that I don´t need to rely on my own understanding but completely on his strength (Proverbs 3:5). I love it that he takes the pressure of, of us and takes it upon himself. The difficulty in a situation such as this is that sometimes we don´t agree with the ways things are being done. Thankfully Jean and Patty had more experience than me and the outcome was a happy ending. However there are times within the church when we don’t agree with the way things are being done or the outcomes. In these times do we take the huff and retract our help or do we endure it? On the other hand do we willingly except help? This requires equal humility!

I loved watching the guys (and Marsha) hammering away at the cement last week in Puerto Alergria. It was a classic example or humility and endurance showing love. I´m no engineer but I’m sure there was an easier way to create spaces in the cement other than letting it set then hammering bits out. Yet instead of saying this to the Peruvian workers our team worked away in perfect harmony to Marcos and Lorna´s torturous perpetual singing of Shine Jesus shine.

The fact that they were contributing was making the difference. In the wise words of Mama Marsha sometimes we don’t agree but in order to complete the prophesy (the body of Christ 1 Cor 12) ¨we need to be able to co-exsist¨. The team were neither concerned with who was getting the credit or who completed the building but they simply recognized that their contribution was necessary. ¨To prepare God´s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature attaining the whole measure of the fullness of Chirst…. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work. Eph 4: 12

I love the fact that here in Peru I can physically see the process of the church maturing infort of my eyes. I see a generation of people both volunteers from abroad and here in Peru completely selflessly contributing to¨ works of service¨. What´s more the boys see it too. They see love in the fact that these teams come every year, some for the first time, they especially love seeing familiar faces.







They hear love in the voices of the enthusiastic volunteers who have taken the time to read a Spanish dictionary on the flight over and for sure they see the love in the way everyone carefully and expertly sanded the wood…for the hundredth time! But more than that I’m sure they see love in the forty peanut butter jars someone packed into their case and brought all the way from the USA to share with them. In the fact Anna allowed Luis to wash her hair with soap for the 5th time in dirty river water, despite the fact it was paining her head. In the energy Mama Marsha and MacKenzie put into reciting the Peanut butter jelly song for the 100th time. The fact Adam never complained when asked to give a kid a piggy back despite the fact he’d been hammering cement all day and was totally exhausted… and so the list of little acts of kindness unravels.

In short what I´m trying to say is that we really should never ever tire of doing good works ´cause God really is blessing what you´re doing. (I know there is a verse somewhere but it must have been one I forgot to highlight at camp because I can´t find it!). You may be like Luis thinking that what you have done for someone else is nothing but to them it can mean everything. I know that for the boys living in Girasoles homes here in Peru and for me that sometimes it´s the smallest acts of kindest that make the biggest difference.


Love you all Erica xxx
.

Fancy A Climb?

"For you know that when your faith succeeds in facing such trials, the result is the ability to endure. Make sure that your endurance carries you all the way without failing, so you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." James Ch1 v 3,4

Black trainers, now brown and falling apart; black trousers...also now brown with 'spikies' in them; cut hands and a heart with an irregular beat. Are you wondering why yet?! These are the consequences of climbing a mountain in Huycho that even the Inkas themselves would have raised a smile at us climbing.

Over the weekend we were staying at Casa Girasoles in Huycho, a little province about one hour outside of Cusco. We're were there spending time with 11 boys that Union Biblica are rehabilitating, educating and teaching them about the gospel. Casa Girasoles is a bit off the beaten track, planted in a gorgeous valley hugged by mountains and decorated with lush greenery and a sparkling river. As soon as you arrive here you are smacked by the beauty of the mountains and instantly you feel the creative side of you starting to tingle. The poetic side of me yearned to write about the mountains; the big ones, small ones, the ones that you couldn't see the top becuase they were in the breath of the clouds and the ones that we're frosted on top with snow.

And so i started to write....

'Over the mountains and the sea...'
'Over the white cliffs....'
'I went up to the mountain...'
'The mountains are His, the rivers are His, the stars are His handyworks too...'

Ah...ok yeah, I was nicking lyrics from other songs! So I tried to write my own lyrics...
"The mountains are big..big..really big"
"We have a big God..that makes big mountains..."

They were feeb! I asked God "Why can't I write anything? You've blesed Erica and I with such a beautiful vision and yet...nothing comes out!"

I was staring to worry...thinking that I had a cold heart to the things that we're being shown to me. And so, I left my paper and pen under my bed with the stolen one lines dedicated to beautiful mountains.

That was until yesterday, I took out my book of thoughts and I will tell you why. After church the children invited Erica and I for a walk up Montana Zero. Sporting our climbing gear, my fetching red anorak ( in appreciation of my mum - she always wears a red anorak when we are walking!), our cameras in hand we were definatley ready to go for a walk up the hill and take some photos; hopefully getting that 'one' photo that would capture the beauty so we would be able to show you guys.

Before Erica and I had even started our walk, I looked on the mountain and saw some of the children stuck like little alpacas - designed to trot up mountains with ease on the side of a mountain not designed for humans to trot up...with ease.

Things started quite nicely. A few kids were holding our hands on our easy walk; Erica was joking with the kids as she took photo's of them 'jokingly' trying to scramble up the mountains 'death' face.

"Eh, they have to be careful - there's no way that they can get up the mountain that way," Erica said rightly in innocent unaware of the adventure ahead of us. So we called the boys back down the face of the mountain and they continued to lead us on the correct path.The gradient started to get a bit steeper, but it was ok, I was feeling quite fit and was happy that I had put on my comfy shoes that I knew would stay on my feet until I had reached the top (to see what happens when I don't have my comfy shoes on when climbing, refer to the blog in New Zealand.)

The first 'challenging' thing that happened was passing a very angry (unchained) dog that was on our path. I don't know why the dog was angry but I was very sorry for anything I had done to upset it. With my eyes closed tightly the children helped me pass the dog and shouted 'Ugly dog! Ugly dog!' that actually calmed the dog down! Leaving this first challenge behind, we continued merrily on our adventure.
Thankfully Gideon, a child of nine years, lead me up the hill. He turned and faced the already weak Lorna and said, "This is where the steps end!". I smiled back and gave a wink, assuming we'd probably just about reached the top. Hmmmm...no! I was about to have my first encounter with 'the spikies' and experience humility at a new level!

Further up the mountain we climbed without steps...or actually anything that would help my sliding feet grip at all. This was when I had my first hand shake with one of the spikiest plants that I've come across - it wasn't a cactus, but i'm pretty sure that it was one of it's family members - to me I saw it as it's naughty little brother - looks pretty innocent but plays tricks on you if you come too close.

All glamour (if there was any) was taken out of the jaunt in the Peruvian mountains as I found my technique for getting up the mountain. I was on all fours as I found myself mimicing the 'montbaca', a technique I found to be a pretty successful way of getting up the mountain!

My feet lost their balance on the sliding stones and my free hand (the other one had the camera in it) reached out in desperation to grasp anthing that would stop me from seeing the bottom of the mountain again and so in my head there was two options; grabbing a smaill child and risking both our lives was one option, but the other option that would only hurt me was reaching out for the plant - 'spikey'.

Squeezing my lips in pain and pretending the tears in my eyes were tears of laughter, joining the boys that we're breathlessly hee-howing at me I pulled out the spikes that pierced my wee hand and whimpered as i realised that we were now walking up the 'death' side of the mountain.

The mounmtain was getting steeper and the 'spikies' were overtaking the ground. I felt the pressure in my throat, my ready to stomp a tantrum believing that I couldn't do anymore, when suddenly I saw a hand reach out for mine.

My knight in a dusty blue t-shirt, a pair of nike shorts and flip flops was called Jose. Jose is a helper at the boys home and has many a time, strolled up this mountain - I think for fun - and so knew the best way to lead me up.
And he did, although the way up the mountain was full of 'challenges' Jose took me around them and made sure that I reached the top of the...alive.

I met back up with Erica at the top of the summit. We furiously started taking pictures like the view was going to disappear at any moment. In this moment of flashing lights and smiles, Erica stood on 'spikies' cousin 'sharpy' now this cousin was out to kill. I heard Erica squeal and all eleven boys ran over to her rescue. 'Sharpy' had made his way through Erica's trainers into her foot; in her pain Erica must have forgotten her spanish and cried out 'What in the name?! It's in ma foot!!' The children trying to respond to her call picked up her foot and Erica was now balancing on the peak of the mountain on one leg. " I cannae go back any further, or I'm gonna fall of the mountain!"

I wasn't too sure what to do. I would have run over to her rescue as well if it weren't for two things.
1: Me dying of laughter because Erica was talking to the children in broad Scots language.
2: Me actually dying if I tried to run over the hair pin top to get to where she was!

But hurrah for the boys as they carried on whipping the spikes our of Ericas foot. After the chaos of the accident I finally had time to take in the blessing that God had put in front of me.

Describing what it was like at the top of is difficult. I don't think I would do the view any justice with words so I will let the photos speak for themselves. I may not know how to describe the beauty but I do know that I would have shaken hands with a thousand 'spikies' to reach the top just to see it. In this moment I finally heard the word that God was waiting to tell me about the mountain.

If you want to write about the mountain - you have to experience the mountain.

To reach the top of the mountain was to experience everything that the mountain had to offer; to see the land below in all it's glory and the other mountains that joined in union. I was seeing the full picture; recieving the full gift that the mountain wanted to give...the reason it was there. We had endured the climb and reached the top, and this was our reward.

I believe that God gives each one of us our own mountain. God wasn't wanting to give me inspiration of the mountain by what it looked like but he wanted to give me the gift of the mountain by what if felt like to experience it.

With the mountain that God gives each and everyone of us we choose to either stay at the bottom and imagine the top, never fufilling our full desire to know what the mountain could offer; some of us start climbing the mountain but either stand still or even give up climbing because of the 'spikies. But let me tell you what happened to the pins in my hand that the 'spikies' had left. I took the pin out, wiped away the blood and was only left with a little mark - probably couldn't even see it! I still had both my hands and they were there ready to grasp the hands that were there to help me. Some of us are making it up our mountain. We are holding onto Jose's hands. Holding onto people that have been through the tracks before and making new tracks together.

Jesus will never leave you to climb your mountain alone. Infact he wants us to join hands and help each other up the mountain. Because at the top is our reward. He doesn't want one person to miss out on it. And no one has to miss out if we just take the hand of the person that is holding out theirs to help.

And if you do miss the hand and put it in a 'spikey' - keep going, it might hurt, but pull out the pin, wipe away the blood and realise its actually nothing - don't let 'nothing' stop you from getting that full gift.

Going down the hill is another story. I was going to put my full Gold insurance in use and call for the air search rescue to come and find us but Erica didn't have any signal on her phone. So instead I grabbed the hand of Jose and also Edgar (The 'pappi' for the home) and together we made it down the mountain. My technique for getting down the mountain was more of a slide and if I was lucky my foot would hit a rock to support me; and if i wasn't , it was my toosh that was feeling the consequences.

So for me now - thinking about super gluing my pair of trainers, giving my trousers a scrub and my heart a check over. I loved my mountain walk, but if the kids offer us to go on another one I might have to pass - hey I've experienced it! If I need reminding - I've got the pictures!

Big God love

Lorna xxxx

Wonderful Chaos

I´m finding it difficult to compartmentalised everything that is in my head right now so please bare with me as i try to relay the wonderful chaos that has been our lives for the past few weeks, since our last entry.

Starting with the most recent and unbelievably, unexpectedly wonderful birthday. I never imagined turning twenty five would be such a joyous event but the boys in Casa Girasoles, Kawai (y mi mejor amiga, Lorna) managed to make it exactly that, ensuring I had a birthday I will never, ever forget. The festivities kicked off at 3am...yes as in the middle of the night. I´m assured that serenading random Scottish girls is not something the children do often but rather their singing is part of a custom they have here and a special treat for loved ones on their birthdays; that and throwing eggs at them. Thankfully I managed to avoid the latter despite the efforts of the little ones. I felt completely blessed (if not a little tired) that they would do that for me and so I actually loved every second of their singing. I will never forget all thirty boys, washed and smartly dressed in their school uniforms, no doubt having completed their morning chores and breakfast early in order to perform the torture...I mean treat, is a sight for which I will be eternally grateful.


The festivities did not stop there infact that was only the beginning. The day went from wild to wilder. Cancelling afternoon classes - a bit too eagerly I might add ( Lorna and I were teaching the boys English in the afternoons after school) the boys set about organising a surprise party! It started with pass the parcel, musical chairs (carnage), pin the glasses on Raul (the house Padre) and I even had a go at wrecking my very own, first and I´m sure last, piñata. Sharing a house with thirty boys meant that we did¨t get any of the sweets from the hanging Spiderman but that didn¨t detract from what really was an amazing birthday. Thank you all so much for sending sweet messages and pressies (thanks Drummie!) I feel far too old...I mean loved.
And so as you can see we´ve delved into the second part of the Soul Touch mission in our typical style - chaos... wonderful chaos!

For those of you who we did manage to see on our wee week in Bonnie Scotland will be able to testify it never really stopped. Arriving in Edinburgh to long awaited smiles, cuddles, tears and champagne on ice Lorna and I soon forgot the troublesome 48 hours + that it had taken to get from Bolivia, including cancelled flights, 13 hours in a taxi through Bolivia on what they assured us were roads, a long nights wait in Lima airport and a hospital visit. Don´t worry we´re both well. We were there awaiting the arrival of Marisole and Emilio¨s fourth baby but sadly baby Gabriel didn´t arrive until after our departure! (Welcome to the world gorgeous! We can´t wait to meet you!).

The weekend that followed was full of the excitement of seeing our families and participating in the conference...we know you´ve all been waiting to hear about the World Without Walls conference and so we won´t keep you in suspense any longer.It¨s an event that we and I know many of you have been praying for, for a long time. Over 300 churches from around Scotland participated, each purchasing a tent. The proceeds from which along with the actual tent were sent to partnership churches in the developing world. Each congregation presented information about their church lives inside their tents, sharing faith stories!

As Lorna and I walked round the tented village so many of our anxieties were stilled; prayers were answered and realities were confirmed - Firstly the anxiety, or rather excitement that we had for the event itself. We´d been reading about the preparations from afar and so it was a real blessing to see so many come together. We´ve actually been praying since the beginning of this trip (and many of you have prayed with us around the world), for the churches in Scotland, that we´d see a revival, an awakening in that place. Well our prayers are always are heard!

And then finally our wee reality check. The reality that the church in Scotland is wonderful but that the best is still yet to come. We recognise our part in the body of Christ but we also recognise where we´ve been wounded and where we need help being healed. The most awesome thing about the conference was that it was confirmation that the healing has started.

One of the best moments for me was being given the opportunity to sing with my stunningly talented sister something I´ve longed to do the whole time we´ve been away, singing songs she has composed:
"Lord of the broken hearted. Lord over all. We are here waiting to hear your call.
Though we are broken hearted, though we may fall - we must be willing ready and listening, trusting you Lord over all.
For only you can restore in us hope
Only you can revive us again
Only you that can answer the prayers of our hearts so Lord we cry out to you (Lyrics Eliza Bonnar)
As I stood hand in hand with my sister and Lorna looking over our nation, Ian gently echoing this chorus behind on his guitar, I was touched by God¨s grace, so thankful for the humility he gives his people.

The Church of Scotland gathered together in that place crying out for revival, recognising that it is only God that can send it but they were most definitely making sure that they were ready and waiting for it to come!

Lorna and I spoke a lot over the week we were there, at every given opportunity. Not in the limelight (although given the chance...) but to the people. We shared with them stories, stories you´ve shared with us. We shared testimonies, testimonies you´ve shaped by sharing your faith, homes and lives with us on this indescribable journey.

Lastly we shared with them our vision for the future, a vision we share with you. Of seeing justice being brought to the nations. We¨ve simply been given, the responsibility, the girt and the massive privilege of being the intermediators.

And so we celebrated with our friends at home about what God is doing in the nations, reuniting with friends we made in Uganda and Argentina. The celebrations for me were almost overwhelming.

Finishing the week witnessing my brother marry his beautiful wife and best friend Fiona. Lorna and I we´re with them in the Jungle in Peru when they met and even the monkeys were talking about their flirting. It was a complete joy to be part of the ceremony - a privileged to share their special day and a complete riot on the dance floor! Needless to say little sleep was had but lots of love was shared in that week.

We truly thank God for the time we had at home - maybe not sleeping but we both definitely left completely energised and elated by what God is doing in Scotland!

We are now, as you know, in Peru working with Union Biblica. Some of you will probably know of their work, although possibly not directly. They work in partnership with The Vine Trust. An organisation also birthed out of Bo¨ness Scotland. In previous years Lorna and I have only really participated in the work they do with street children and the medical teams. These ministries in themselves reach hundreds of thousands of lives. The work that is going on out here really warrants its own TV series.....oh and it has one. I know many of you have been enjoying the Amazon Hope series on ITV. Lorna and I enjoyed it from Australia thanks to technology! In the next few weeks we hope to get a little more insight into the other work they do within schools aswell as visiting the numerous homes they now have in 6 different areas of Peru. Homes for children who once lived on the streets. Children like those who sang to me and partied with me on the 19th of May. Children, whom given the opportunity to shine, brighten up lives. Being here with them has certainly brightened up mine!


Love from Cusco
Erica xxx

Finding time to breathe

Apologies for keeping quiet! Oruro, our new home, is extremely high and for the first time ever the Soul Touchers have had difficulty talking. What´s more we have actually been so busy since arriving here that we´ve not had time to do some mandatory and necessary things such as wash, manicure our nails, brush our hair or regrettably write to you all.

More so than the altitude though our time here in Oruro and Sucre has been breathtaking for lots of reasons. Primarily because of the vast amount of activities, projects and work that we´ve been witnessing taking place amongst the church here.

Our leaving Sucre was bittersweet. Although looking forward to meeting new people and new challenges in Oruro we were gutted to be leaving those we grew to call family in Sucre. Our last day there was a real blessing and we spent it with the community of CCE Church at Horna Casa. A day that could have quite easily been completely chaotic (given that there were more than 100 excited little children there and that is not to mention the adults!)was in fact a celebration, a party of hope and a reward for all those who´d put so much effort into refurbishing the home for the children who now squashed in to enjoy games, songs, bible teachings and cake...lots and lots of cake. What a joy to see hundreds of dirty little fingers clenching fists full of sweet cake and cupping hot chocolate rather than the dirt we´d witnessed them clutching only weeks earlier as they played with the pigs. And so we left sadly but full of hope that God is doing wonderful things there.
Oruro is cold – but only in terms of the weather. Within the space of one week we´ve received a warm welcome. Firstly by our host family. Having reluctantly left Sucre Lorna and I boarded the 9pm night bus from Sucre to Oruro. Departing the terminal equipped with layers of clothing and fully charged ipods (recently improved/updated with Spanish worship thanks to Becky Train!) we waved “Hasta Luego” to our friends and family.

Reminiscing on how unbearable the bus journey to Sucre had been Lorna and I took necessary precautions for the return trip – layering up clothes, filling up hot water bottles and tucking our vests into long Johns! We had not however prepared for the orchestra of “roncing” (snoring) that was going to take place on the bus that night – snoring I might add that no manipulation of volume control on the ipods could quieten.

And so we arrived in Oruro, where since we´ve bared the cold, warming our spirits and hearts with the enthusiasm of the church and work of Latin Link:

¨Bamos, bamos¨ Our 5.30am alarm, our rather the screech of Ximena our sister here, wakes us from our sleep and reluctantly (very reluctantly) we scramble our way out from the layers of blankets. Although the initial cold of the morning is painful or ¨torturous¨(as Miss Main described it) it´s not long before we are wrapped up in the warmth of natural hot spring waters found in the mountains of Oruro. It´s early but the youth group with whom we´ve come to the springs are excitable to say the least. After trying to teach each of them to swim we braved the baths. Yes communal bathing is an experience which I´m assured is all part of the ¨rich tapestry of life¨. Although enjoyable and definitely memorable we´ve safely sown that stitch in our life's tapestry, at least for the time being.

And so the afternoons have been spent visiting children´s homes, the prison, youth groups and the homes of families. It is going to take us some time to document all that is being orchestrated by Julie Noble (Latin Link) in partnership with the local churches and overseas missionaries. But for those of you who haven´t seen let us explain a little.

Firstly the prison. Although neither of us have a great deal of experience in working with prisons in Britain I think we can safely say that the prison at home is nothing (NOTHING) like the prison here in Oruro, other than they both are institutions that incarcerate criminals. Entering the prison would ordinarily have been quite a daunting experience (had we not had God right there with us!), given that the entrance opened onto a large communal area (big playground like area) where most of the prisoners were congregated, talking, buying things form the various tiendas (stalls) set up around the edges or spectating the game of football that was going on in the centre of the grounds.

Safely directed round the prison by Gabriela Gomez (staff, lawyer and angel who works for Arbol Angel) we were able to interview a few of the parents. I say parents because here in Bolivia many children are raised in the prison, for several reasons. Whilst speaking to the women prisoners, most of whom were washing cleaning or cooking while we spoke, we learned that many of them actually became pregnant whilst incarcerated. Meaning that when the children are born they stay in there with their mothers (fathers, most likely one of the other prisoners). In some instances when the fathers enter the prison the mothers, unable to support the children financially, abandon them. In these cases the children live alone, in houses or on the streets. Although it sounds almost unimaginably horrific, the thought of innocent young children being raised in that environment, there is hope, hope much brighter than the darkness that tries to extinguish ours.


Arbol Angel (Angel Tree Project) is a project that works with the children whose parents are in the prison as well as the parents themselves. They offer counselling, scriptural teaching and where they can financial support. One relationship we were particularly moved by was that of Jenny Zurita (psychologist who works for Arbol Angel) and Alexa, the father of seven children, six of whom live on their own having been abandoned by their mother. Lorna and I visited their home, some thirty minutes away from the prison where their father is. I´m afraid I´ll have to allow photos to express what I am simply unable to articulate.


Having distracted the five large dogs guarding the gate of the home with bread Lorna and I made our way into the small bedroom which they all share. Four of the children are under the age of 12 and so you can imagine the smell: no parents there to clean up, care or protect. What made us joyful amidst the smell, mess and apparent lack of hope was the support Arbol Angel was giving this family, individually. The staff know, care for and love each child individually.


Partly because they get to know them in the Arbol Angel centre. There the children are fed, taught and given much needed attention. To our disbelief the project is currently reliant on ¨offerings¨and donations from Latin Link supporters, or fund raising the staff there are able to do.

As is the compassion project. Compassion, an international missions organisation, works here in Oruro to support, teach and care for some 400 children. You may have noticed that much of the work here concentrates on the children, they, in the world over, are the ones who suffer because of our actions...or lack of them. One person´s actions that we´ve been encouraged by are Chris Saunders, a volunteer. Chris is here as a Latin Link volunteer and his role consists of working in the compassion project, working with the youth in the CCU and this week updating the Soul Touchers on all that is going on in Oruro.
As you might have reaslised there´s a lot! And so after a busy, busy day we, Soul Touch huddled back under our suffocating amount of “traditionally Bolivian blankets” and reflect on the presentations we have had the oppertunity to give here. Both in Universities, the CCU and the church. Wearing equally culturally appropriate and very necessary (llama) woolen hat, scarves, gloves and thermals we, “hoddit and doddit”, shed our usual glamorous (yeah right) exteriors opting for clothing that provides heat .

Finally we´ve loved living in the home of our host family here in Oruro. Having spent the past week recovering form the severe drop in temperature and drastic rise in altitude Soul Touch are almost ready to move on again. Before we close our eyes we find time to cosy up for a bed time-story, literally: “The Shack”. A novel gifted to the world by William P Young and to us by our friends in Sucre, is tonights most read.

Night night Sweet dreams. Love you all Erica and Lorna xxx