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Dentists and Assistants
In the background you can see how remote this location was...no bathrooms, no running water, nada.----Please note that the photos in this entry are extremely poor. Our camera was being repaired and we used a disposable, which obviously had problems as well. I think they will do the job though, and it will give you a better idea of the poor lighting conditions that the doctors were working under....read on...
During my pre-teenyears, I was what some would call...well...homely. (My parents just read that and gasped, as they believed that I was nothing but beautiful.) Well, okay then, I was a "beautiful" awkwardly tall, uncoordinated, ruddy-haired, moon-faced girl, with very, very bad teeth. Although my parents saw me as a mini- Miss America, they too were aware of the fact that my teeth were in dire need of attention, and at the tender age of ten, I began my stint with braces.
My parents had both grown up in homes that were of meager income, thus neither of them had their parents force them to undergo the torture that was forced upon me. My mom and dad later boasted their smiles of silver during their early thirties. I could not for the life of me understand why in the world they were both so
Waiting....
People waited for hours to see a doctor. happy to "finally be getting my teeth fixed!" What I would later understand, is that teeth are really, really important. I know, it sounds basic, duh..you need teeth to eat! But you also need teeth to feel good about yourself, and a good smile means good breeding, good breeding means intelligence and attractiveness, and these both equal success! How many gum and toothpaste commercials have we seen that have driven this point home? Beautiful blondes having fun pedaling down the street on a tandem bike. Couples kissing and then turning to the camera to show their white smiles. They have all found doubly good happiness and true love that will last an extra, extra, extra long time! They have brushed their breath with Dentene, tripled their protection with Aqua Fresh, and have apparently completely brushed away the blues as well as everything else yucky that goes along with having sub-par teeth.
I know, you’re reading this and wondering what the heck my dental conditions have to do with traveling to Peru. You see, in order to take you on the same journey that I went on in Cajamarcas, Peru, my dental history and perhaps even that of my parents
Our New Friend
This is actually a reallz funnz picture, and we definatelz should have posed differently, while Griff and I are pretty large, Jordan does not look this wimpy in real life. BUT I thought I would add it anyhow because I think Jordans likability shines through in this shot. And yes, we are in front of a Starbucks, though Jordan had asked the photographer to "Get the mountians in the background, so we look like real missionaries- hehe." is an important part of this story. What we have endured in the past, inevitably becomes a part of the present. Pieces of my ugliness and awkwardness, endless hours of fear and discomfort that I detested as people hunched over me to work on my mouth... Perhaps there is a “tender spot” in
your history, which will someday materialize again in one of your everyday or even extraordinary events. We’ve all got them-those memories- the ones that we don’t talk about as we age because we know how silly they sound, but in their moment were felt with passion. As you read through what I’ve written below, I ask that you call upon that unspoken memory, that thing which hurt so bad at the time, (a bad haircut, ears that stuck out, hand-me-down clothes, not having money to buy hot lunch at school, being too tall, too skinny, too short, too fat…) because these feelings all flooded back to me as I held on…
I hold on to the back of her neck and head. My hands are here to serve as the dentist’s chair that isn’t here, that could not be afforded. My job is silly really,
"Mandy the Chair"
This patient was "the biter", zou can see her here, pushing away the doctors hand. I am a warm-blooded, talking, breathing chair. And even that is giving myself more credit than I am due. What I really am is the
back of a chair, because the child-size wooden school chairs do most of the work at the “bottom” end of things. Our dental office is a cement slab of a classroom.
Our first patient of the day walks in and the dentist shows me how to properly hold her head during the procedure. The job seems like a piece of cake. (Am I allowed to think about sugar as a Dentist’ Assistant?) After he inserts the long needle into the very back of the patient’s gums, where her teeth end and flesh begin, he wheels the car-mechanic stool he is sitting on, a couple of feet away from her and instructs me to watch the results. Within a few short minutes the woman’s entire mouth is numb. The doctor looks at me with a sideways smile and says, “Technique…it’s all in the technique.” I am not shy or afraid of needles, as I have been poked and prodded by them countless times-the pain is tolerable and quick, and though the size of a dental
Spit!
Lucky are the first few patients of the day! The last few have this as their spitting bowl. needle might look frightening, their seemingly scary length is only to reach the back of the mouth. The needle’s point is actually quite small. “Maybe I missed my calling as a dentist.” I think.
The doctor reaches for one of his tools, which are lined up in a row on top of some papertowels, and it is at this point, before he even puts to object to her mouth, that I start to remember. With his mere grasp of that twisted little clamp of a tool, every visit to the dentist floods my memory, and my mouth… six fillings in my baby teeth due to the nicks and crannies that my crooked mouth had created, braces beginning in fifth grade and ending in eighth, retainers, wisdom teeth pulled, on and on. I know the discomfort that is about to be had by this plump woman who overwhelms the tiny chair that’s built for a first grade body. My stomach begins to churn, and I can’t help but wince…
I couldn’t help but wince as I stared hard at the knot in the middle of Dr. Campbell’s bow tie, which he had a seemingly endless assortment of. My My First Tooth-Pulling
This dentist sorta threw me into things, and forced me to pull the tooth that he had been working on -he did all the hard work. I felt so sorry for this patient, she was numb but mz inexperience was obvious. orthodontist ground and glued at my “brackets” Dr. Campbell was known for his bow ties, not his gentleness. He cranked away at a tooth, and I just stared as deep as I could into the folds of that necktie. One side of my tongue touched the brace glue, and it began to tingle. The taste was so sharp- not quite sour, but almost. The Orthodontist mumbled a few words to the assistant, and I saw them exchange a glance. My mouth was always creating problems for them, and I suffered the consequences by an ever increasing regimen of tightening and rubber bands, and even (gasp!) double rubber bands, that stretched from top to bottom of my mouth. The clanging within my oral cavity continued. Just pay attention to his tie! I tell myself to relax.
I tell myself to relax, and hold on to the back of the woman’s warm head. The force of the dentist’s work within, forces me to spread my feet into a more stable base, and I lean forward with my weight counteracting the doctor’s pushing on the other side of the woman’s head. If I can’t do my job, this poor woman will
Copper Cleans Up
A friend of Pastor Durso, Copper, shows the glory behind clinic-clean-up. fly back in her chair, and a mess will be had.
After I will myself into the mentality necessary to fulfill a chair’s function, it begins- the noises. Popping and cracking and the screams of an inadament object being pulled from its rightful place. The dentist twists, and gets his upper body into sink with his hands, forcing the tooth into submission. The patient’s eyes widen, as if by doing so, her mouth will follow suit and fight the urge to chomp down on what is interfering with the positioning of teeth that nature had placed and held firmly for the last thirty plus years. Guttural noises come from the back of her throat, new unclassifiable phonemes; pleas without words. But once begun, a dentist’s work cannot be halted, and the doctor must finish what was asked for him to begin. I watch her eyeballs roll up to meet my reassurance, but my mouth is so dry, that I am unsure if I can form a smile. Wait…there it is, I can see the apples of my cheeks in my peripheral vision, I must be smiling. She settles down a bit, and I can feel her neck loosen. My hands
Childrens Dentist
This is the dentist that I worked with on day three. Some of the kids that came through here were unbelievably brave. are sweaty. (Does she feel that through the rubber gloves I am wearing?) Dear God, please don’t let her know how ill I am beginning to feel. My vision is blurry. I take a deep breath through my nose, which is a mistake. The smell that overcomes me is new and terrible. It is a combination of bad breath and blood and infection. I grasp her head harder. I am going to faint.
RRIIP!!!
“There it is.” The doctor holds up a bloody piece of rotten tooth, oblivious to my queasy state. Am I smiling again? How can I be? I am barely able to stand! I lean over to take a nearby seat, when I see the doctor grab another tool that looks like a thin, long spoon, with a miniature cupped scoop at the end of the handle. He looks at me as an unspoken instruction to steady the patient’s head again. My body screams ‘No!” But my pity for the woman, who’s mouth is now pooling with blood, gives me a morsel of strength and I tell myself to stay conscious for just a few more minutes of work...
“Just a few more minutes Mandy…you have to keep your mouth open wide for us now Sweetie. I know it’s uncomfortable. That’s it- nice and wide, only two more to pull, you are doing so well…ah, ah, ah, don’t tense up…mouth open now!”
The radio announcer interrupts the Easy-Listening Music in the background and says something about Superman. I focus in on the radio…Oh God, make it end soon! I am praying, as I have been taught to do in church during moments of despair, like the one I am certain I am in now. The radio fades in and out and my ears are filled with a high-pitched buzzing sound. “Take deep breaths!” the voice inside my head (I think it belongs to my mother) tells me forcefully. Though he tries to keep it out of my sight, I can see in my peripheral vision something bright red that dentist has just pulled from my mouth.
The dentist pulls from her mouth several bits of the rotten tooth. He digs around a bit more, and scoops out some soft rot- all that is left of the tooth’s root. Again, he reaches for the tiny pliers. The smell at this point
is beyond description. If I don’t breathe, I will pass out, but if I do, I only breathe in that rancid odor of puss and neglect. Even attempts at breath through my mouth cannot fully stifle the smell, as the odor seeps in through my throat and up my nasal cavity. I’m dizzy. The voice again, “Mandy, breathe, don’t hold your breath, keep breathing.” (Yes, this time I am sure it is my mother.) The blood, the smell, the noises…I can’t feel my feet anymore. Am I still holding her head? And then, cotton! I see the doctor’s hand reach for a flat sanitarily white square of cotton! This means the end is near, and as I release the patient’s head (as it turns out, I AM still holding it!), she slowly gums the cotton and stops the blood from its seemingly endless flow. Her thin, tight T-shirt clings to her belly rolls as she uses the sleeve to wipe her forehead. A little splash of red has appeared by her collar, but she smiles a stunned smile and raises her hand in a wave of thanks to the dentist, as hundreds more will do over the course of the
Pastor Jordan Durso and his field of dreams
This is the land that was just donated to the organiyation by the community. It is right in the center of an extremely poor community, and a prime location. The plan is to have a full time doctor as well as nurses and a physical therapy sections as well. next three days. They will thank the dentists and they will thank me, assuming I am a dentist. (If they only knew that I am a school teacher with no medical background at all!) The doctor calls for the next patient.
“Next patient please.” I look up from my math homework, which I have been doing in this orthodontist’s office for years now. “Oh hello, Amanda! You again! Come on back, the doctor is ready.” Again, I have broken a bracket, and the assistant gives me a mildly scolding look. This time it was bubble gum, or was it popcorn at the movies? Whatever it was, I don’t care. These things have been on for years already, and my teeth are still a mess. I’m still a mess. My hands are weak, my mouth is bone dry, and I can barely pronunciate my words. I look out the window for Griff who is doing crowd control, and attempting to keep the people in lines for the pediatricians, the gynocologist, and the pharmacy from a collision course. People try cutting or bypassing registration, and Griff gently reminds them of what he has said ten times already. I
Wheel Chair Distribution
I know, zou can hardly see a thing, but in the center, there is a wheel chair. Because the terrain and needs are so different in a third world countrz, the chairs need to be accomodating. The wheels are more rugged and the seat is made from the standard white lawn chair, so that owners can be bathed in them. catch his eye, and call him over, he can tell something is wrong. I barely need to finish my sentence before he has fetched me a water, which I need in the worst way. I’ve regained feeling in my limbs, but my stomach is a mess. I gulp down some bottled water and before I have time to regain my composure or even to tell the doctor that I am not cut out for this job, another patient is in the squeaky excuse for a chair. (I am the other half of the chair, though I am certain that at this point, the wobbly wooden stool is in better shape than I.)
Everything that happened with the first patient, the noises, the smells, the grunts, repeats with patient number two.The sweat, the blood, the pressure, the queeziness, the light-headedness, the smiling, the wincing, happens again but with even more intensity. At the end of the procedure, I am still a mess. I’m struggling with how to handle myself, and am embarrassed by my weakness. I am not faint of heart! I am stronger than this! I asked to do this! I give myself a pep talk, and as the Bible says, I pray without ceasing! As patient number three walks in and sits in that pathetic chair, something deep, deep inside of me surfaces. I’m not sure exactly how to put it into words, maybe you could call it a sense of obligation I feel to another kindred spirit, or compassion that can only be given by someone who has suffered a similar pain, but I miraculously pull myself together.
Patient three and four come and go, and my stomach slowly settles. By number five and six I am actually enjoying what I am doing… not in a massacisitc “in-the-bloody-moment” way, but with a long-term outlook, these people’s lives were going to be better- less painful than they have been in years!
I begin to take in the big picture of what was happening at the clinic. I am assisting one of eight dentists on sight. Two rooms over, is a group of doctors evaluating infants with burning fevers, and the elderly with bad coughs. Nurses give out free Yellow Fever shots to anyone in need. The pharmacy, stocked with anti-inflammatory creams, aspirins, and cough syrup fill the doctor’s prescriptions. (Something as simple as Baby Aspirin cannot be obtained by most of these people, and here are eight dentists pulling teeth and prescribing penicillin to avoid infection)! The clinic is functioning so well, that it's obvious the event had been well organized and done several times before under similar circumstances.
“Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t need to have the braces on for so long, but your daughter’s teeth are taking longer than most.” The receptionist explained to my mother, as she showed her my dental bill. Mom breathed a deep sigh, as if to say, “What else can we do? If we take them off now, it will have been pointless.”
“Can I have a few more weeks to pay what’s due?” Mom asks the secretary. From behind my Reader’s Digest I can hear their low tones. Low tones and a friendly smile can completely change a person’s demeanor. This I picked up quickly. These Peruvian doctors are all here as volunteers, and they are working with happy hearts and willing spirits. What I eventually find out is that doctors in Peru are neither a rare commodity nor paid well. There are plenty of Peruvians who complete medical school, but very few whom the economy can actually support. More often than not, a fully certified medical doctor ends up with a job that will at least pay the bills, such as restaurant work or a taxi driver. Those who actually do go into practice, make meager incomes. Thus my respect for these doctors elevated, as I realized that many of them live a life of service, it was not an act for the weekend clinic. These dentists pulled teeth for less of a fee than the tooth fairy would leave a child in America
The three days went by quickly. I have no idea how many teeth I have seen being pulled from their owner’s mouths. I actually pulled three. But it was not the act of teeth-pulling that I enjoyed. It was the hand I could lend to the boy who needed to squeeze it; the brow I was allowed to dab; the blood that I wiped from a chin, a cheek, a shirt collar. Can souls meet for a moment at a makeshift dental office? Can strangers communicate through desperate eyes or a reassuring smile? After three days of pulling teeth, I believe that the answer is yes.
“Yes. Hmmmm…Amanda, it appears that you may be a candidate for Invisiline. Have you ever had braces?” Have I had braces? Ummm- ya, only for the longest four years of ly life! He actually had the nerve to ask me! I am thirty years old, and this guy is telling me I need braces- AGAIN!? Is this some sort of a cruel joke?! It’s a cruel joke when nature or genes deals you a bum hand. All those years of dental work, have landed me right back into the orthodontist's office. I am due to get my teeth fixed when I get back home to the States, but in the mean time, I run my tongue over the smooth, albeit, slightly crooked surface of my teeth. No cavities rotting away in there, no roots visible to the naked eye. No pain. I am a very lucky girl…
There are instances that occurred over those three days that I will never forget. The strangely beautiful teenage girl, who was in the chair for hours, as the dentists tried to improve the situation of her painful impacted teeth. At one point, every single dentist had touched her mouth,cranking and pulling and popping what would not budge. After hours of toil, out it came, along with another. Not even the dentists could believe the courage of the young patient, she had just undergone a pretty intense and extremely uncomfortable few hours, and the fist words out of her mouth?
“There is another one on the other side, could you please pull that one too?”
Not something I have ever requested of a dentist. I imagined the pain she must be in every day to make such a request. The gaping hole that was left in her gum was so huge,that stitches were necessary, and to even consider doing the same on the other side was insanity! Once the stitches started, our brave patient could no longer handle the physical and mental hardship her body had undergone. She refused to open her mouth upon seeing the gruesome looking needle that would be used to sew her gums closed. She just looked at us through those exhausted dark eyes and begged in silence that we let her go. But, alas, as I mentioned before- once dental work has begun, it must be finished- and with gentle words, we coerced her to let the dentists begin their sewing. She frantically grabbed the wooden seat of her chair, and I gave her my hand, instructing her to hold on. We locked eyes, and I watched as silent tears streamed down her face, and into her already salty mouth. That instant of our eyes locking is forever etched in my mind, and writing about it now my own tears are flowing. The dentists did not have the right needles available to sew her up properly, and attempt after torturous attempt was made to close the wound. She just squeezed harder, and didn't'’ stop crying until it was all over. It is truly a wonder that she never lost consciousness, but she stayed alert throughout the entire operation and walked out with gratitude for the dentists.
There was a patient the next day that fainted, and another that clamped down on the dentist’s hand while the needle was in her mouth. Children who screamed in fear, and children that were braver than adults. Hundreds of children and adults passed through the clinic in a matter of days.
The end of day three has come and I am trying to scrub the blood off of the cement classroom floor with a thin paper towel. Back home, I am always annoyed when my classroom has been used the night before for a meeting, and is left in disarray for me to fix in the morning. This thought takes me home for a moment, to the classroom I teach in and to the classrooms I learned in as a child. The boy who sat kitty corner from me in sixth grad and called me “Brace Face.” The boys in the eight grade hall who called me “fat”. The Girl in high school who laughed at how tall I was and called me the “Jolly Green Giant”. But this time these memories bring out in me something different. This time I think of these names as a luxury, a luxury that many can’t afford. In places like rural Peru, there are no fat kids, no kids with braces, no kids that have grown too tall. There are however plenty of malnourished, underdeveloped children with very bad teeth.
Have my hours in a dentist’s chair been…I shudder to think it…a blessing? Who would have thought that four years of braces could be in actuality, a stroke of good fortune! As I looked into the mouths of children, I saw myself as a child, but as I looked into the mouths of those adults, I saw something that I will never have to be. Nobody comes to these clinics for a teeth cleaning or braces tightening. People come to get teeth pulled, because that is their only option, and without free clinics like this,they don’t even have that. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for cursing my dental treatments for all these years instead of being thankful for their easy access and the outstanding hygenic facilities in which they were carried out.
Now, as I had asked of you in the beginning, please recall that youthful devastation that so ailed your pride at one point. Perhaps putting yourself in the shoes of a Cajamarcas Peruvian, your view on the matter has changed a bit. What seems so damaging at a time, can seem so trivial when exposed to how the rest of the world lives. My teeth were a source of grief, and judging from my last trip to the dentist, they will continue to be a problem that needs addressing. (In the words of my dentist, “If you don’t take care of the problem, your teeth will continue to narrow their arch, which will appear from the outside, that your lips and mouth have collapsed. Your jaw will also begin to lock up.” Certainly, the last thing I want to do at this stage in my life is to get braces again, but after seeing the decomposing teeth in Peru, the thorn in my side seems more like a sliver.
The medical clinics that we were a part of are the brainchild of pastor Jordan Durso, born and raised in NYC, he now lives in Lima Peru with his wife Vanessa, and three daughters. Jordan and Vanessa do not fit your stereotype for missionaries and few of their associates do either, many of whom we had the privilege of meeting in Lima. The Durso Duo are based out of Lima but work throughout all of Peru with the cooperation of the government who has decided that the work of the missionaries is so well organized and managed that it is extremely beneficial to the Peruvian people, especially the poor, who receive no government assistance. JV Ministries (“Jordan- Vanessa Ministries”, when I ask about the name, Jordan explains, “When we started the non-profit, we had no idea that it was going to be as far reaching as it it, so we just wrote down anything…”) How “big” is the organization? Last year they did fifty-seven clinics like the one we were a part of. Fifty-seven! Each clinic reached about a thousand poor and ailing every day! The ministry also has just begun their distribution of two million de-worming pills, as parasitic worms are a huge problem amongst the poor who do not have clean water available to them. They are planning a new venture that includes one of their volunteers who worked as a top chef in some of America’s finest restaurants. They will invite every-day Joe’s (taxi drivers, janitors, waiters) to enjoy a ceremonious gourmet dinner and honor them as members of the community…keep in mind that many of the people doing these jobs are highly educated, but unable to find work that matches their trained job skills.
Another ministry that spurs from the heart of the organization is the distribution of wheelchairs. When I first heard about this project, I thought, “Cool. That’s awesome that they are helping people who can’t walk.” With this simplistic appreciation, I was way underestimating the power that a chair with wheels has in a country as poor as Peru. We ended up being able to go to a wheelchair distribution in an outskirt of Lima, and on the way there I spoke with John, who is another missionary (not to mention a SUPER cool guy, who had some refreshing thoughts about faith…the type of fellow you instantly love), he is in charge of the wheelchair distribution project. He explained the life-changing impact that the chairs have on a person and a community. In Peru, if you are born with a birth defect, such as Cerebral Palsy, a foot deformity, or mental retardation, you are shunned for life. Many see these things as a curse from God and want nothing to do with such a sinful person. However, when John and his volunteers come through an area, offering wheel chairs for those in need, it throws the community for a loop. How can this “man of God” want to help a person whom God has shunned? He told me stories about people being carried out of their homes for the first time ever, the neighbors did not even know that there was someone being hidden away in their house, due to the shame that would be caused if they were exposed. At the actual distribution we saw people of all ages receiving their new lives in the form of a wheelchair. I could seriously go on and on about how amazing of a ministry this is! To date JV Ministries has given wheelchairs to over 13,000 people!
JV Ministries is well organized and has passionate and genuine leaders. However the feel of the ministry still somehow feels very small. They are interested in reaching the Preuvian people and really loving them. Being servants to others is their priority, and they hope that conversion comes afterwards. They do not discriminate against other religions or beleifs, but they embrace anyone in need with the open arms of a good friend.
As we drove away from the wheel chair distribution, we stopped in to visit a family in an extremely poor area of Lima. Their ten year old suddenly began to deteriorate mentally, and soon he was unable to talk and move. The problem would have been detected and handled immediately in a country like the United States, but the family simply did not have the money to fight the deteriorating disease, and the boy's condition became so bad that after a while he would need to have a stint put in his brain to live any longer. (Had this been done earlier, the boy could very well be completerly normal now.) The two hundred dollars necessary for brain surgery was not a feasible amount of money for the family to come up with. When I heard the cost of the surgery, I thought my ears had deceived me. Two Hundred dollars for brain surgery!? How is is possible that this small amount of money was the difference between life and death for a child? The church that JV Ministries works within, took a special offering and raised the money for the operation. Immediately, the operation was scheduled. When the mother rolled her silent, still son out to meet us, she began to weep. “He used to be completely normal. He played soccer with the other boys and played like a normal child…now this.” Through my fuzzy vision and tight throat, all I could think was, “Two hundred dollars…two hundred dollars…” How should that tiny amount of money amount to someone's life? The boy is expected to live after receiving the operation, however much damage has already been done, so there is no telling his state of mind afterwards.
Needless to say, with all this going on, "J" and "V" are constantly busy, yet somehow remain extraordinarily grounded and surprisingly “hip”. Their New York accents can instantly be changes into fluent Spanish. Vanessa’s little wisp of a body, exudes unending energy. (Even though we met up with her mere days after she had given birth to her third child!) Jordan, baseball cap crookedly perched atop his dark head, will endear you to him instantly, making you feel like you have been friends forever. These are not your normal long-skirted, hair-in-a-bun, Bible-thumping missionaries. They are real people with real hearts for what they are doing and through that real change is taking place. While they are strong in their Christian faith, they do not believe that passing out tracks and preaching fire and brimstone is the example that Jesus set. Instead their light shines through their helping the poor, the sick, and the overlooked.
I can’t pretend that I was any essential part of the clinic I was involved in. There was an excess of volunteers, and had Griff and I not been in Cajamarcas that weekend everything would have gone just as smoothly. The thing is, though WE might have not affected much in Peru, what happened in Peru certainly affected us. It’s interesting how the most memorable moments of this trip have not been monuments, museums, or any other tourist attraction. The things we hold closest to our hearts have been our interaction with other people- on this adventure, the Durso Family, John the Compassionate, the dentists, the patients…
There are SO many more amazing things that are happening through this organization. Griff and I honestly couldn’t believe the extent of their arms! I know that some of you believe in making charitable contributions to worthwhile causes, and we would like to vouch for this one. Though a web sight is in the works, it has also not been a top priority, and I'm sure you can see why! If you have questions about JV Ministries, feel free to send me an email and I will gladly pass it along to Jordan, which I am sure he would be happy to answer.
I know for a fact (because it happened several times on this trip) that the Dursos pay for a lot of things out-of-pocket, due to money not coming through as promised or just a sheer lack of funds. When I asked Jordan about them having enough money to build their hospital, he said with a smile, "there is never enough-never enough- because there is always one more person that needs your help, more people that could be reached."
If there is a poor man among you, one of your brothers, in any of the towns of the land which the LORD your God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart, nor close your hand to your poor brother; but you shall freely open your hand to him, and generously lend him sufficient for his need in whatever he lacks. -Deut. 15:7.
"Sell your possessions and give to charity; make yourselves purses which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near, nor moth destroys." -Luke 12:33. **If you would like to make a contribution to the amazing work that is going on in Peru through JV Ministries, please make your check out to
JV Ministries and send it to the following address:
Christ Tabernacle
64-34 Myrtle Ave.
Glendale, NY 11385 Feel free to add a little note of encouragement if you feel up to it!**
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Wicked Stepmother
non-member comment
Wild Thing, You Move Me
Mandy, you move me to tears. This is amazing writing. Thanks so much for sharing with us. I will be forwarding to my family in Oz. Much love to you and thanks so much for the beautiful MD card! Bron