Alejandro, 31

It was 2 something in the morning. I am alone in the house for a few weeks, and so my pajama attire consisted of a muscle tee and underwear. In the summer heat of Córdoba, even in the middle of the night, it felt like too much, but I could never go for less for emergency reasons. Such as a phone call around this time from a stranger.

At first, I was just going to let it ring (I do after all, hold to the personal mantra of not every phone call nor doorbell must be answered). But, I remembered that some missionary friends were expected to come in any time, I figured I should double check.

The groggy morning voice surfaced, "Hello," I managed.

A male voice responded asking to know who I was. Asking to talk to some one named V--.

I calmly told him that he had the wrong number.

"C'mon bitch, pass the phone," he said insistently.

"Look," I told him. "While I might love to hand it over to this person, I promise you that he or she is not here. My name is Sharayah and you have the wrong number."

"Who!?"

As if pronouncing for a kindergartner, and perhaps thinking this man was drunk, "Sha... ray... ah.." Knowing he would forget my name in the morning.

Perhaps I crossed a line. Perhaps I should have just hung up, but something kept me there whilst no-name tried, to no avail, to say my own correctly.

"But who are you? Are you joking with me? I know I dialed the right number.."

"I'm from the States, and that is why my name is not usual. No, still not joking. You have the wrong house."

And here is the point at which he started to warm up to the idea that I was who I said I was. He tried knowing my age, what I do in Argentina, the neighborhood where I live. To all of these I refused to respond, because one could only guess his motives were impure. So I interrupted him.

"Look," I said. "While you want to know who I am, there's a question I have for you that is more important than all of these details."

"And that is?"

"Do you believe in God?"

I swear I could hear the crickets chirping, even over the noises of the radio in the background on his end of the line.

He finally answered, "Well.. yes. I mean.. Yes. Yes I believe in God."

"And what does that mean for you?" I asked.

"Well yes means ye--"

"No no.. What does it mean to believe in God?"

Another uncomfortable silence, though perhaps more for him than for me. I could sense that I would be getting to my bed soon, and I was grateful.

He finally mustered, "That he exists."

Without hesitation, "Right. And that is not enough in my opinion."

"Wait, what?" no-name said. "What does it mean to believe in God for you?"

Inhale, exhale: "I believe in Jesus Christ. That only through him, through his sacrifice on the cross can we be saved. Through him we have a reason for living; because of his work, I trust him enough to come all the way to Argentina to serve."

The crickets had formed an entire orchestra by this point. And yet, the guy still ended up surprising me.

"You know what?" he says. "I think I did dial the wrong number, but that it was no accident."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, I really needed to hear what you just said."

A couple seconds later he continues. "Thank you. Sorry for bothering you. Have a good night."

I hung up half expecting for it to ring again for some reason. It didn't, and I calmly made it over to my bed, adjusting the fan to face me at a better angle.

But ten minutes later, the phone did sound again. It was him, calling to apologize for not trusting that I was who I said I was.

"And I just talked with my dad," he tells me. "I told him about your question and how that's really stuck with me. I can't get over it.."

My mind is burning with a question and I can't explain how it got there. I want to ask him, 'Who died?' but before I can--

"You see, I have been falling away from God for quite some time now. Add to this that two months ago, my godfather died, and it just made me question the faith all the more.."

How did that question enter my head?

"I'm sorry to hear that," I tell him. "Truly, it's never easy to know the answers in the middle of painful circumstances."

He continues with his history of growing up in a Catholic church, knowing about the Bible and all that. "I did some things I shouldn't have done," he says.

"Well, I think you're right," I remark. "It wasn't an accident that you dialed the wrong number. I will be praying for you--"

"Alejandro," he says. "My name is Alejandro."

"And mine is still Sharayah."

The necessary laughter to ease any felt tension ensued.

We chatted a little bit more, and I recommended a church in the downtown area as an option. He had asked where I go, which unfortunately is a church that meets in my house, and I was still not willing to trust the guy completely.

"I can't say that it's easy to trust someone who calls a stranger 'bitch' within seconds of the conversation," I said.

He tries to cover up the offense, saying something about thinking it was his niece joking with him.

"All the same," I say. "If I thought it were my nephew, I would never call him a zorro."

Again.. nervous, and yet calming laughter.

----------

A friend of mine, after hearing this story, told me that he had recently had a dream about me. We were talking on Skype and he said that he saw someone behind me that was questionable. "It made me crazy. I didn't know who to call or what to do except wake up and start praying for you."

He told me that the person looked as if it was someone trying to take away my integrity.

What a word to use in this moment. And I doubt my friend, Cristian, realized the impact that word has had on me in my life. I mean, I still carry to this day one of the best compliments someone has ever given me: "It is clear that you are a person of integrity, Sharayah."

Two men of the Bible are given the adjective of integrity: Job and Daniel. When we look at their lives, we see that they were men of prayer and sacrifice. Job would even over-sacrifice if you will, to cover the offenses his children may or may not have caused. Daniel prayed every day, no matter what the law might say against it.

Both men went through some of the worst trials one could face. In fact, both had lost it all--Job lost family and riches, Daniel lost his homeland and lived under foreign rule. Yet, they were men of integrity who leaned on God despite circumstances. They knew that believing in God's goodness over their current depravity was sufficient to help them persevere.

So when someone speaks over you with a weighty word such as integrity, you must look to these two Biblical precedents. It's as strong as having someone named after you--you feel the pressure to set the example as best as you can, even though you know it's impossible.

But I must ask, did the description "integrity" come before or after the lives of Job and Daniel? Kind of like what had happened with Moses, who was called "no ordinary child" in the book of Acts. How did they know, lest they had read the rest of the story?

What I do know is I am ever so thankful for the prayers. Perhaps integrity is something one does not manage on their own, but within the community of faithful believers, who help us see how best to endure a testing of our faith. When I realized I was being prayed for in this aspect of my life, I wanted to be all the more careful with how I act around other men specifically, and to also lean all the more on Christ for my strength.

Oskar

Sometimes I wonder how these sorts of things happen to me. It was nothing planned, though I suppose they rarely are, these moments. I'll share the context nonetheless.

Returned from the institute and just as I got home, Eva was leaving to meet with some mutual friends for lunch in a nearby park. She invited me, but I declined, saying I needed to buy my ticket to Mendoza. Which I had every intention of leaving right away to do so. But then I got distracted.. writing an update letter, as well as chatting with a friend on Facebook.

I finally made my way to the bus terminal, and found my ticket to be much less expensive than I was planning. So that's a plus, and it made me happy enough to walk a little before going home. Everything went faster than expected, so I found myself wandering to San Martín Square where I took a seat to continue reading my book.

Even this comes with details, as I have always planned to sit and enjoy an afternoon in the square. It's almost always full of people, and well, I'm a people watcher. At the same time, I watch after myself, and took a seat in an empty bench with no one around.

Until Oskar came, and sat on the bench a little ways away from mine. Just in time?

I was reading when he first said, "Disculpa", asking for the time. "4 minus 20," I casually tell him.

A few minutes later, he "disculpa"s again. Basically he realizes that I'm not from here, as I am reading a book in English. "Well no, but I do live here.."

The next thing I know this man of about 35 is telling me about all his worries and doubts about God. He knows Scripture, which helps a lot, but it's as though there are some things that are missing. I encourage him to think about what church is, and to realize the true power of the Holy Spirit.

And to be honest, it was a Spirit-filled moment considering all of the theology he brought up. I'm not that smart, and so it was cool that various verses came to mind to help with the conversation. Ahem, in Spanish.

So I present to everyone Oskar. A gentlemen trying to figure out the whys of life.. lacking peace.. and yet enjoying many things at the same time. Pray for him.

What a way to begin my second week back in the country!!!

Fran

So I go to Córdoba Immersions, and I usually have an expectation of knowing what I am doing. The funny thing is, I don't. I also know this, and yet my expectation remains..

Therefore, I am put into this position of leader of a team of students. Usually, you will get troubled kids, but you'll often be balanced out by good ones as well. The problem is when the troubled kids impact the good ones.

Franco is a good kid. He would try to speak English (at the English camp given in Argentina), he would offer good ideas, he would participate. But some of the games are challenging, and everyone on the team is complaining. One kid is trying to have all the attention, but is not encouraging the team.

In one game, everyone does so well, but they don't finish the challenge. They look to the others and complain, "But they have it easier!" "But it's impossible!"

So Franco quits. He leaves the group completely, and sits with the others who can't play due to broken arms or legs (seriously).

I call him, and another who is more of the problem. "We want you to participate, but we need to work as a team. So if you want to participate again, show me that you care. Sit here and cheer us on. The team will decide when you can join again."

Neither of them were enthusiastic about this, but I had to get them away from their friends that only made their leaving the team worse.

I was heartbroken by the brokenness of our team. I even cried with Marisol and Russell about how the good kids were not getting to enjoy their time because of the influence of the negative ones. They offered some tips, gave their hugs. I sat by the pool while the kids swim, and decided to write a little note to Franco, in Spanish, telling him how I felt about his potential. 'I understand that it must be difficult to work with our team, and it's your choice, but what a lastima that we miss out on what you could contribute.'

He sheepishly came to me later saying he wanted to participate. And then, at the end of the camp, he wrote this letter:

"I'm thankful for Sarayah for understand me and give me other choice for participate. I'm sorry for what I do."

Simply precious.

I am reminded that we can't change someone ever. I often return to this conclusion about how only God can change a heart. But I wanted to stress more the idea that we can't make much of a difference in a matter of days.. hours really. How much more awesome when God is kind enough to show us a smidgen of hope in such a short time!

Eduardo, 19

Cletis had gotten to know a group of younger folk from the hostel. I seemed to keep up with the older generation. From a Canadian guy who had been hurt by his ex-wife, to an Italian who was encouraged by the work I do, wanting to invest in a children's home in Brazil work permitting, to a French couple that always cooked something interesting each evening.

But one opportunity arose for me to converse with the young Brazilian Eduardo. He had sat down for lunch at my table, while I was reading the Bible. Naturally, he asked what that was about. I explained that I like to read, and this book is particularly interesting.

Subject changed, and he asked if there was anything going on between Cletis and I. I reassured him with a laugh, that there is no "onda" there whatsoever. We are traveling together because we work together. Once again, got to explain the reason I am in Argentina at all, which stems from what God first did for me.

"Would you like to know my theory on life?" He asked. Sort of with a smirk, with a desire to press my buttons and get me angry. Little did he know..

As he explained his theory, I told him that it sounded a lot like this television show I had watched recently called Battlestar Galactica. Speechless, I explained the basics of the show, and he nodded. "Yeah! That's kind of it! I can't believe someone else has already thought of it and even made a tv show out of it!"

It made me chuckle a little bit. I remember thinking that I knew all there was to know when I was 19. Reality can bite.

But then he said to me, "You know though, I think God is trying to speak to me. I just don't know how to listen."

"Go on," I said.

He told me of a time when a random old woman had told him that he needed to be careful. His girlfriend wanted to hurt him. That evening when he was visiting her at her house, he found a knife in her dresser drawer. She was embarrassed that he found out. She was planning on attacking him.

I know it's a strange story, but there was nothing in his face to show that he was lying.

"And there was this one time," he began, retelling an account in which he had gone hiking in Brazil and had gotten lost. In desperation he yelled out, and a fox appeared. It blocked him from a certain path so he went to another. The fox followed him, blocked him, and followed him until he was back in a safe place.

"What could it all mean?" he asked.

Eduardo said that he prays all the time. He doesn't always know what to pray, but he does it all the same.

I told him that maybe the very book I was reading would serve him well. "In a way," I explained. "In a way, the Bible is the other half of the conversation. We talk to God through prayer, and He talks to us through his Word." (I intended the double entendre, but I am unsure if he followed.)

I told him I would get him a Bible if he really wanted, and we again looked at me in disbelief. "You would do that?!"

"Por su puesto!" I smiled. And he wrote his mailing address for me. Now to find a Portuguese Bible.. haha.

He always smiled when we saw each other again, and even made an effort to sit with me a couple times more to talk about the day. You could sense the difference between him and the others, versus wh

Naty, 27

During an asado at the end of a 4x4 tour of the mountains in Ushuaia, I got to know a young woman named Natalia. While the others busied themselves with conversation about English, a conversation that I have gotten pretty tired of myself, Naty and I talked about where we've traveled, and the languages we know.

She mentioned Hebrew. Then she mentioned that she'd been to Israel. I was quick to put two and two together and she affirmed. Yes, she's Jewish. We talked about the culture a little and finished up the meal. On the way home we realized we were staying in the same hostel, so we mentioned grabbing a bite to eat for dinner much later on.

While I was hanging out in the room, reading, Naty knocked at the door.

"Hey, sorry I can't make dinner tonight. I ran into a couple of Israelis in our hostel and they invited me to a Shabbat."

I was overjoyed for her, and then timidly asked, "You think it would be okay if I came? I've always wanted to go to a traditional Shabbat."

She was shocked. I assured her that if I couldn't go, since I'm a Christian, I understood. But I had so much curiosity!

She checked with her friends, and I joined her for a beautiful Shabbat in the middle of Ushuaia. No, they didn't speak Spanish. The sixty or so present spoke only in Hebrew, in which case, I understood nothing. However, I loved it all the same, embracing the beauty of the community that chose to meet despite being from other parts of the world, on vacation, etc. etc. I enjoyed listening to the message, and most, listening to the young men, adorned in their yamakas, singing and reading Scripture.

I was a little tired though, and apologized for my need to leave early. Two hours had already passed, and there was no telling how much longer it would take. Not to mention that the only plans for afterward were to go to a bar, which doesn't exactly fill me up.

The next day, I had gone to Laguna Esmerelda and came home with a stomach ready to eat, and eat well. Specifically, the famous King Crab of Ushuaia! I had to coax Naty to come with me, only because she didn't want to spend too much money to go out to eat. I reassured her that I had a friend (Friend!) who had blessed me and I wanted to use that money to bless her. So she acquiesced.

I asked her more questions about the Jewish culture. I was able to coincide a lot that I had already learned through a former roommate, as well as other studies of the Bible I had done. Which is when, after all the explaining had been done, she said to me,

"What do you believe any way?"

As shocked as she was on Friday, I had to hold every excitement inside me. "As in, what I believe as a Christian?"

"Yeah. I have no idea about any of it. Can you explain it to me?"

Umm.. YEAHHH!!!!!

And so I progressed through the basics, but also used the facts of the Old Testament to show the need for the Savior Jesus. I added how important it was for Jesus to resurrect, so He could give us the gift of the Holy Spirit. "And I know the Holy Spirit is real because in all of this time that I have been talking with you, I feel His power giving me the words and making it clear."

She nodded. "It's all so fascinating," she said. She told me she had never known about Jesus, and that she wanted to study more about Him if possible. I pointed her in the direction of the Bible and how it helps me to understand God's character in general.

We finished up dinner and didn't get to talk much more during our time together. Nonetheless, it was an amazing conversation, and I was able to give her a bracelet with the colors that express the salvation story. I added a note thanking her for her time and for all I learned from her. She wrote me back before she left about how it was a pleasure to get to know one another.

Vane, 32

On the same Playa Larga, on our traverse back to the hostel, we ran into a young woman who asked us to take her picture. We got to talking only to find out that she too, is from Córdoba. She lives in Río Cuarto, a small town that I know through various friends. She said she used to live in the city, but that someone in her family is sick, so she had to go back. We exchanged numbers with the idea that we could meet up during our vacation and adventure together.

Who knew it would be the very next day in which she and I would bike all of Tierra del Fuego National Park.

And like with pretty much everyone here, we shared our lives. I explained the work I am priveliged to be a part of, she explained more of her life.

She´s back home in Río Cuarto because her sister has contracted cancer. Which means she had to leave behind the job she loved in the city (where I live), her boyfriend, her home that she had grown accustom to.

But she was so joyous throughout the day. Perhaps the better term is hopeful. She loves her sister and doesn´t want her to suffer. Her sister clearly loves her enough to let Vane enjoy a month of vacation to be away from all of the stress life can bring.

I hope to stay in contact with Vane when I return. One of the perks afforded by Facebook allows us to stay in touch. Well, apart from the cell phone too. All that to say, how blessed for us to run into each other. And what a blessing to go to the end of Route 3 at the end of the park with her (picture to come!).

Carlos, 25

Perhaps my first true contact with a Brazilian, we met one morning, my first morning in Ushuaia. I was prepared to take the solo trek to Glacier Martial until someone said in broken English,"Someone going to the glacier?"

It was Georgiana, from Bs. As. who was accompanied by this Brasilero. And since the internet wasn´t working for me any way, I was able to leave with them, and save 20 pesos for the cab fare.

We talked a little bit. The taxi drivers are always wanting to learn from where their passengers come, so this one was surprised by the variety we provided, and that we were all complete strangers.

On the hike up the mountain, Georgiana had to stop and turn back, but Carlos and I kept going. We are both determined people, and we were going to touch the glacier! The only problem, is it took all the energy out of me in order to carry on a decent conversation. My heart was in my throat, and it wasn´t until we reached the top that words finally came through.

Turns out he studied Naval Engineering, which took him to Norway for half a year to study the fjords. So.. he knows Portuguese, Spanish, English, and even a little Norwegian. But multiple languages is not a surprise anymore as I travel throughout Argentina. It´s just natural.

We didn´t talk too much more, apart from the basic information of our lives. There was the complaint on my end about how I have to pay 300 dollars just to enter his country, but he reassured me that changes are on the horizon. Woohoo!

The next day we had more time to chat. Again, Georgiana backed out of the plans to go to Playa Larga, so Carlos and I made the simple hike. It led us to some daunting rocks that we happily climbed, but as no end was in sight, we stopped for a snack before turning back around.

He opened up more about his beliefs. A Catholic, who desires to be married only once and to never divorce. He seems to have good morals. "But are they enough?" I thought to myself.

We headed home, and had one more encounter where I shared with him some Fernet I had ordered at the bar.