El Luchador

So now that we are home and things have settled down, I thought I would get you all caught up with a few more stories from Peru.

This story requires a little bit of background.  Like many participants, I was late sending in a picture to have put on my ID badge for Love Extreme.  Unlike most of those people, I am married to a full time Extremie and have my picture on the Extreme website.  That means that certain persons working in the office (Chad Duerre, Rachael Miller) know what I look like and can try finding some kind of "celebrity look alike" to put on my card instead.  Their specifications were white, bald, with a goatee, and the result was Stone Cold Steve Austin.

And now on to the story.  It was Saturday in Cusco, and  was one of our last chances to get out and do outreach stuff in the area.  Many of the people in our group were leaving in the afternoon for Machu Pichu, but we had time for a medical clinic and kids festival in Poroy, Cusco, Peru.  Rachel stayed back with Ryan; this was her first day of being sick.

The day been going great.  Poroy was having a festival of their own and we got to hang out with the police canine unit and even take pictures with their dogs.  We did the usual balloon animals and kid festival stuff.  The mayor was so impressed that he sent us lunch, delivered by the police.  Just after the Machu group left, we were tying salvation bracelets for kids.  I had a great time having the older kids read what each color on the bracelet meant, making sure that it was not just a trinket from an American, but something that had actual eternal meaning.

As I was tying my last bracelet, the girl who would have been next to get one if I had anymore, noticed my ID badge hanging from my pant pocket.  "El es un luchador!"   (He's a wrestler/fighter!)  Thanks to Nacho Libre, I was familiar with that term and chucked to myself.  But that wasn't it; the crowd of kids began to repeat in whispers, "El es un luchador."

Without anymore bracelets to thread and tie, I began face/hand painting.  The boys quickly lined up and I painted a car for the first boy.  It was orange and looked a lot like the many Daewoo Taxis that drive the streets of Peru.  As I began painting another car, a different girl noticed and remarked, "El luchador es un artista!"  (The wrestler is an artist!)  The moment was hilarious and the rest of our time their in Poroy, I was, El Luchador to all the kids.

On a serious note, I pray that more than "the Wrestler," those kids remember the love we showed them. That when 40/40 missionaries come back they'll be interested some more, and ultimately, El Luchador will have helped plant a seed that will grow in good soil.  That God will reap a harvest in Poroy that is beyond anything we could hope or imagine.

In the end, that is probably to most positive impact Mr. Stone Cold Steve Austin has ever had.  On that thought, I'll say a prayer for him, too!