The families were happy to see us. Most of the grades hadn’t come out yet; so many of them had fewer points to spend. However, I know what the shoes mean to a lot of these kids; as one of the mothers told me the first year, “My son realized that he could earn things with good grades when I brought home the shoes.” As a result, I allowed some of the families to go into “debt” with their points. I’m hoping it turns out to be an investment that results in better grades.
In mid-April, I’m hosting a retreat in my house for missionary women who live in this area. At time time that I’m writing this, it hasn’t happened yet; so I can’t tell you about how it went. However, it’s put on by a website called Velvet Ashes, a site which ministers to women serving overseas. This is the first time I’ve participated (and only the second time they’ve offered it online), but I decided to jump in with both feet and host a group. I’m looking forward to getting to know some of the other missionary women in this area and learn about the work they’ve been called to do.
Your word in Kaqchikel for this month is “xajab” (sha-HAB). (I don’t think I’ve given you that one before.) It means “shoe” in English. In Spanish, it’s “zapato.” When I ask the kids (or their parents) what size shoe they wear, I say, “Ach kin numer xajab?” (Besides the last word, that’s all phonetically for those of you who are trying to learn Kaqchikel or for those of you who read the newsletter to someone else.)
I have one delightful woman in the program who only speaks to me in Kaqchikel. Sure, she doesn’t know much Spanish, but she won’t even say “hello” (“hola”) or “goodbye” (“adios”) to me in Spanish. I find it funny because this woman who has never even gone to school is utilizing one of the best ways to teach a language with me. If all the rest of my parents would follow suit, I’d probably be fluent in Kaqchikel in no time.
|Some of the mothers looking for the perfect pair|