Missionary Gas

Succumbing to pressure I decided to take my return to work on the easy side, and went to some local events. On Tuesday it was an exhibition of Goya´s etchings showing the hypocrisies in the Spanish Court and Church. It was like investigative journalism and the King eventually had them suppressed. On Thursday I attended the National Stamp Exhibition which included correspondence from Simon Bolívar, South America's independence leader of the 19th century. And on Saturday, along with 1000 others, we attended a concert given by Richard Claydermann, the popular French pianist. I doubt if in Glasgow I could enjoy so much in one week. Thanks to the Spanish conquest, European culture is important here. But reality came when I received an email from a man thanking me for the theological resources web site and explaining why a recent entry had been important. It was one of the Spanish Bible in audio format: the man couldn't read. Latin America consists of the rich and cultured, and the p

We've had a relaxing weekend in the quiet city of Santa Fe. It gave me time to process my recent illness, and I concluded three things: Mind over matter is the best of practices. Neurotic souls will appreciate the pressure I was under when my head was clamped in an old MRI machine, the nurse said "you mustn't open your eyes" and gave me a large emergency button. Lying in the tube I felt my body was tipping backwards, then there was the deafening start-stop noise of pneumatic drills. Slowly I counted to 400. When I came out I anticipated the nurse's congratulations. "Watch your step" she said. Faith is the greatest asset. The ambulance, apparently devoid of springs, bumped me all the way to the clinic. It matched the way questions hit me. Would my life be for ever marred? Was my overseas work over? I remembered the paragliding, and my simple confidence in the youthful instructor and the flimsy plastic seat. The Lord is somewhat more trustworthy. Hope keep

Within 15 minutes of being taken ill there was a doctor, a nurse and a gas man in the flat, plus an ambulance parked in the street. The gas man carried an oxygen cylinder. Things fell apart a bit when they tried to get me into a hospital because no one wanted me - we had no insurance. Eventually a non-profit making clinic in a dubious part of the city took the risk thanks to Manuel making the Seminary go as security. The Seminary must be pretty solid because they gave me my own room with balcony, sofa and cable TV. Olwen had to sign to say she would stay with me 24 hours a day. Most of her time was spent sitting on the bed knitting, Matt watched the football. I buried myself in stories of Greek heroes while exercising. There was some confusion as to who was the patient. Thankfully the Board paid for me to see a specialist who diagnosed the previous week's 7 hour cramped bus journey to Armenia as clot inducing. I now must take jags before and after such trips. Things are back to nor

Two notable things happened while on holiday in Armenia last week. One was going paragliding. What was strange was how easy it all was, a short run to start with, a short run at the end, and the rest was just sitting in a seat. The scary bit was riding in the constantly breaking down jeep that took us up to the top of a militarized mountain, and then there was the speedy motor bike journey afterwards to find where Olwen and Matt had landed. The other thing was Matt losing his wallet on the bus. We had no idea which bus of the many on the road we had been on, nor how to track it down quickly. The amazing thing was that he got it back complete with money and bank cards. This was thanks to a couple of kindly bus drivers slightly rejigging their routes for us. Of course, if you were the Health & Safety type such a holiday would be a nightmare. But for Latinos that kind of thinking is a bit strange. Either way the divine presence must be a reality. Aghhhh... the above was written a week