Resting

With my friend Hilda at 5am waiting for the surgery.  She's been faithfully at my side since 4am Tuesday morning!

Post-surgery

With my friend Anahi, one of 8 visitors at the hospital

I had flowers waiting for me when I got back in my room!

Downtown Asuncion--the view from my room.  My house is somewhere to on the left side of the picture.

My sweet friend sent me no-bake cookies.  I've been on a strict diet--but no one said I couldn't smell them!

Thank you so much for praying during the surgery and for the recuperation.  Today (Sunday) I definitely feel better, but still sore.  Praising God for antibiotics, pain medicine, and faithful friends who are taking turns staying with me, cooking me food, and even getting up with me in the middle of the night to take my medicine.  Thankful for the body of Christ this week!

Everyone Loves to See Twins

The bananas have twins!

Back in March, I had a few routine doctor's appointments.  Since I'll be here in Paraguay for a while, I wanted to establish a relationship with a doctor.  In the process, in a routine ultrasound, we found that I had two cysts in my abdomen ("The Twins.")   After a few months of seeing various doctors, last week the doctor and I decided that surgery is necessary to remove what are now three large cysts--now Triplets.  I appreciate your prayers as I'll be having laparoscopic surgery on Tuesday, August 14th around 1PM.  Thank you!!

Why I Love the Olympics

Lost Boys have new futures: Lopez Lomo once ran for his life

Everyone cheers for the underdog: Hamadou Issaka finishes the race--and that was a pretty big thing!

World records are broken: Usain Bolt is still the fastest man on the planet (and seriously, who doesn't love to see a sprint like that!! I remember the last time that world record was broken!)

We get to see respect among people who have trained their whole lives for their sport: "Immediately after finishing, James embraced Pistorius and swapped his race name label with him."--That's humility.

So, these are just a few little reasons why I love the Olympics.  I really only remember back to the 1996 Olympics, and remember watching all the "greats" compete.  More importantly than all the record holders, finishers, and two weeks of watching extremely dedicated people run, jump, twirl, swim..., Paul reminds us that we're all in a race, each day:

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize?  So run that you may obtain it.  Every athlete exercises self-control in all things.  They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable.  So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air.  But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified."

1 Corinthians 9:24-27

Praying that you will recognize the race you are running, and that God will give you the strength to continue it!

VBS Pictures

Praise and Worship Songs:
"I Don't Want to Be a Yo-Yo"
"My God is So Big"

"Every Move I Make"
...all in Spanish!

 Craft Time:
Making Creation-themed mobiles

 VBS After-party:
Finishing the mobiles for the kids!

 We had plenty of sunshine at just the right times of day!

 Games on Parents Day

 Patiently waiting their turns to go get hot dogs

 Too excited to play with the big kids!

 Hot dogs for snack on Parents Day

 Praise and worship

Language Learning

Sometimes, language learning is great--you get to sit down with a language helper/friend and really get some solid study time in.  Hopefully this happens more often than not, but...well...sometimes life happens, too!  I've had many people ask over the years what it's like...so here's a little idea of the past few weeks:

Sometimes language study means:

Getting in some study time with S

Learning how to talk and manage a classroom of children for VBS

Taking time to help with projects at church (paper-maché)

Taking a break with other language learners (9 in an SUV!--Kids, don't do this at home!)

Getting burnt out--like the smoking iron plug, which was being used as it smoked out of the wall.  I have a new iron now!

Almost always, it means going with the flow--at the laundromat, I am now "Carmen Martinez"

And, sometimes it means being sick and resting--therefore, not getting much language learning done at all--Day 5 of doctor-ordered rest.

As you can see, language learning is flexible!  Please pray that I'll have some good study time during the next two months.  At the end of September, I have another language evaluation, and I'm working really hard to be in level 7.  July has been a month with many extra-curricular activities at church, and I'm looking forward to some focused language study time. 

Thank you for your prayers! 

The Better Nationality

   Tomorrow is Independence Day.  Family and friends will be barbecuing, watching fireworks, shooting firecrackers, and sweating.
   Tomorrow is July 4th.  I'll be preparing crafts for VBS, listening to Spanish recordings, eating rice and beans, and probably not sweating.  It is winter here, after all.
   Due to the U.S. holiday, and an unpleasant experience this morning, I've spent much of the day thinking about nationalities.  This morning I was appalled by the words of someone I did not know, in a mixed-nationality group, who claimed that someone else was rude because of her nationality.  I wanted to say something, but chose to listen to the group.  In the end, I know this statement was made in ignorance and immaturity.
   We are all so proud of our nationalities.  Americans quote a poem to a cloth flapping in the wind, Paraguayans dress in red-and-white shirts on game day, Mexicans stand on the street as a three-hour parade passes.  Americans decorate in red, white, and blue; Paraguayans decorate in red, white, and blue; and Mexicans decorate in red, white, and...green--all to show our allegiances to our respective flags.  All three nationalities celebrate by eating.  Each is proud of their country, and who they are.
   But, in my semi-tri-cultural self, which is the better nationality?  Do I celebrate three independence days each year?  Honestly, no; I generally go with the country where I am physically.
   Why am I able to do this?  Why does July 4th not stop me in my tracks for a culture shock meltdown?  Because I know which is the better nation:
                               "But you [Christians] are a chosen race, a royal priesthood,

                               a holy nation, a people for [God's] own possession, that you

                               may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out 

                               of darkness into his marvelous light."  1 Peter 2:9

For this, I am able to set aside former traditions for a time, and pick up new ones.  Despite my passport, my identity is not based on where I was born.  My true identity is based on who the Holy Spirit is transforming me to be in his "holy nation"--the people of God.
   So today, as many Americans are celebrating, take a moment to "proclaim the excellencies of him who called you [...] into his marvelous light"!
   And, please, someone eat some ribs, sweet corn, and potato salad for me.
                                        Love, Carrie


PS--Fellow outside-the-US-ers:  No judgment is being passed on people spread around the globe who are struck by culture shock on July 4th.  I'll get it another day and for other reasons, don't worry--but I hope this has been some encouragement to you as you may be missing home!

Birthday Bash

 It's traditional here in Paraguay to invite your friends or family over for asado.  A friend came over Friday evening and helped me clean the house and get things ready.  Then we watched a movie while I finished sewing the giant bean bag chair.  (I had no idea it would be so huge!!)  On Saturday morning I went with a friend to the grocery store and got everything we need for the asado from meat to paper products.  We made it out of the store for under $100USD, which I thought was pretty impressive for the amount of meat we bought!  I got things ready on Saturday, so that on Sunday after church we could all sit around and visit.

 The asado: wish you all could have come!

Praying for the meal

 Alicia and I shared our birthday, because hers was the day after mine.  We put (almost) enough candles on the cake for the both of us!  After a minor bonfire we got to taste the cake. :-) 

Afterwards we sat around talking until about 9 pm when everyone had to leave.

ALWhat?

In May the mission hosted a two-week long conference on discourse analysis. 

"So...what exactly does that mean?" you're wondering.

That's how we all felt, too!  A few months ahead of time, we were told to ask friends for stories.  I recorded a few different stories, one about a strike that a friend's little brother did at school when he was 10, a legend about a certain flower, one about a traditional character that tries to get into heaven, and the Joseph story from Genesis.  It was hard at first to choose just one, but in the end I chose the legend about the flower.

In the mornings we had about 4 hours of lecture: (I'm in the third row along the right wall)

 

In the afternoons we had opportunities for one-on-one time with different co-workers.  This lady gave most of the conference and helped us all to understand how to analyze what a person is saying and how they put the "big chunks" together.  For example, stories versus recipes.

 

 I set up shop in the corner and got to work.  I really enjoy this kind of work, and look forward to possible doing it in the tribe one day.  This time I used Spanish, and put it into an Excel chart to categorize all the different parts of the story...it gets crazy-technical from there!

Representing over five countries of service, and many new brothers and sisters in Christ:

The Love of Christ Compels Me

About 50 years ago, my grandparents served in a tribe in Brasil.  That was their home, with four little kids, and a community of indigenous people.  They knew none of the language at first, but over the years made some good friendships, and poured their lives into their neighbors.  As I've been here the past few months, I think about what it must have been like for my grandma.  Away from home--farther than ever--with little kids.  I wonder how often she wanted to ask her mom, "What's that recipe again?"  "What do I do when my child hits this stage?"  Or even just the chance to reconnect with her parents and siblings.  Mail came every few months, and the news was old by the time it arrived.

Most days, I am grateful for the easy connection to "home" that the internet brings.  Not only to home, but to friends I have dispersed around the world.  I know that "555" means "LOL" in Thailand and "jaja" is laughter in Spanish.  I know that my friend is having a really hard week in the tribe in Indonesia, and that another friend has been able to leave her country of ministry to visit some other friends.  But this week has been a difficult week to be "connected" to the outside world.

Tuesday one of my great-aunts passed away, who I was blessed to know.  My grandma made up a song for her and taught it to my mom, who taught it to me, and I taught it to my cousin's kids so they could sing it to her.  She was faithful to write letters & keep me updated on how life was on the Pennsylvania-Maryland state line.  But aside from all the silly songs and the letters and the news of which flowers were in bloom--she was praying.  She believed in what I am doing here in Paraguay, and prayed for me throughout my training, my time in Mexico, and the process to get to Paraguay.  She was faithful.

Today, I lost a friend and a prayer warrior.  She turned 89 in February, and I lived with her various times throughout the past 7 years.  She was a blessing to have as a friend, and struggled towards the end with her health.  My relationship with her fell somewhere between friend and granddaughter, and I will always treasure my time with her.  She understood very well what I was doing, and asked questions to understand more.  She told me stories about growing up in the South during the 1930's, and introduced me to good Southern food.  She had been working in the church nursery for decades, and called people my age "her babies." 

While my heart is broken to have lost these two great ladies, I can't help but rejoice.  You see, they were both Christians.  They are now rejoicing (together!--though they'd never met before this morning!) at the feet of Jesus.  They are healthy again after many years of poor health, and freer than ever before from all their earthly burdens.  But their deaths remind me of the urgency for why I am here in Paraguay.  These ladies were blessed to grow up in a country where there is freedom of religion and the Gospel of Jesus Christ is in their language.

I think of two things--one, I have lost two prayer warriors.  Who will stand up to take their place?  While my "cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1) has certainly grown by two, there are two less prayer warriors on this earth.

Secondly, I think of all the people on this earth who are without the knowledge of Jesus Christ.  For some, it is illegal in their country; for others, they are removed from a "modern" lifestyle.  This is why I am in Paraguay--that in time, when someones great-aunt or "adopted" grandma passes away, someone can say with certainty, "She is in heaven, walking with Jesus Christ."

In the thirty minutes it took to write this post, approximately 1325 unreached people died.*  What will you do about it?  Will you go to tell them?  Will you pray for someone else to go, or for someone who is there ministering?  Will you raise your children with the freedom to move to another country to have the privilege to be a part of what God is doing to grow His church?

Take a few minutes to watch this video:



*The number 1325 is taken from biblehelp.org, which estimates 107 people around the world die in one minute.  Joshua Project estimates that 41.3% of the world's population is considered unreached.  107 (estimated people dying each minute around the world) x .413 (percentage of unreached people int he world) = 44.191 (people per minute dying around the world, untouched by the Gospel of Jesus Christ) x 30 (the amount of time it took me to write this post) = 1325.73 approximately 30 unreached people who died as I wrote this post.

Things I've Seen on the Bus

 

This little jar represents 134 bus rides (since January-ish), transportation around a city of 2 million at about 60 cents a ride, and a grand total of nearly $75 spent in transportation in the past 4-5 months.  Can't beat that!  There are other ways to get around town, whether it's taxi or having your own vehicle (which are both very expensive options), but my secret is that I love the bus.  I'm sure many of my friends think I'm crazy for this, but I have had some great experiences riding the bus. 

On the bus, I have seen:
-a saxophonist playing Chiquitita
-two rappers advertising a rap-off
- a man telling jokes/funny stories
-many guitarists singing in Guarani (the co-national language in Paraguay)
-a man playing the guitar AND pan pipes
-people sleeping and waking up right where they want to get off (I'm told this is a learned skill)
-80+ people in a bus with only 45 seats
-people selling  6 oz Cokes
-people selling fruit: pears, apples, plums, pineapples
-people selling chipa (a cheese-y afternoon snack)
-people hanging out the doors--over an overpass even!  (I was nervous, and inside the bus!!)
-two hippies advertising for the vegetarian lifestyle
-a man with one hand playing the guitar

And much, much more! 

An Ode to Friends

Mine, not the TV show.

Friends run into your kitchen to search for a mouse.
Friends want to trade "our" car in for that Jeep on the side of the road.
Friends attack 2" cockroaches so you don't have to.
Friends walk in and do your dishes.
Friends mop your floor saying, "I want to show you that I love you."
Friends go to a doctor's appointment with you, just so you don't have to go alone. 
Friends encourage you when you've got nothing left.
Friends correct the same word you've pronounced wrong...for the fifth time...today.
Friends try to Skype you in to long-distance weddings.
Friends answer the phone at 4:30 in the morning.
Friends lend their washing machine for an unspecified amount of time.
Friends share their families.
Friends know they can say "I need a place to sleep tonight."
Friends travel alongside you and see you at your worst--and sometimes your best.
Friends bring you thoughtful gifts--like SoftLips.
Friends run around your house hanging curtains and frames while you run around town shopping.
Friends proof-read things you mail out from 5,000+ miles away.

I was going to say that God's not the only one taking care of me here, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized--He's the One doing the caring, He's just being creative in how He manifests that.  He's been faithful to provide friends who've taken care of me in the past (some are mentioned here), He's being faithful to provide friends who are currently taking care of me, and I have no doubt He'll continue to provide friends in the future to take care of me.

Praising God today for a myriad of friends!

Rebecca

The benefit of hearing a sermon which is being translated live, is that I get to hear the English version and with a split-second delay hear the Spanish version.  The benefit--I hear the same sermon twice.  Double-edification?  I think so.  Last night our youth & singles group went to a rally, and got to hear a great preacher and--praise God--a great translator.  (This task is not nearly as easy as you would think, it's not as easy as just changing the word.)  So last night, I got to hear Rebecca's Story twice, once in English and again in Spanish.  Here's a summarized English version with a little Carrie-flare to it:

       Imagine that you are at the wedding feast of Christ.  We've all arrived--every person who has ever trusted Christ, from all time, from every place.  Imagine all the sounds and languages.  Languages which have been extinct for hundreds of years, you're understanding languages from all over the world, from all time (Disclaimer: We really don't know what "language" will be spoken in heaven.  Why not be speaking each in our own heart language, with everyone understanding?  It could happen.  Or maybe we won't be bound anymore by languages created as a result of sin on earth!  One could only hope!)  So you're sitting there at the table, and the angels are starting to serve up all the food--think of your favorite meal, multiply the flavors by infinity, and you've got some pretty tasty stuff.  You look down the table and think..."Is that ABRAHAM?  THE Abraham?  I think it is...and he's talking to PAUL.  The apostle."  Then you look across the table from you, and see a girl.  

       "Hi, I'm (insert your name here.)  So...how did you get here?"  

       "Well, I really don't have a great story."

       "Tell me anyway, I'd like to hear it."

       "Well, my parents worked for Caesar..."

       "CAESAR??  As in, you're from the time of the Romans?"

       "Yes, they worked for Caesar.  One day they came back to the house and said they had heard a man named Paul teaching."  (Your eyes wander down the table at the man you recognized as Paul.)  "When they came home from hearing him, they told us everything they had heard.  They had become Christians, and my brother and I did, too.  Things got a lot better after that.  My dad used to beat us when he drank, and things were hard.  But he never beat us after that, and things were good.  Then one morning, the soldiers came to the house and dragged my parents away.   I woke up my brother and said, 'They've taken our parents, we must follow them!'  So we followed them to the Colosseum.  When we got inside, we saw our parents standing in the middle of the stadium, and Caesar told them that if they would deny Christ, then they would live.  They said they would never deny Christ, and Caesar raised his hand, and pointed his thumb down.  Immediately, gates were opened and animals we had never seen before ran towards my parents, and tore them apart.  My brother and I ran back to the house, and tried to hide.  The next day the soldiers returned, and said they knew that we had been at the Colosseum.  They told us the same thing that Caesar had told our parents.  That if we denied Christ, we would live.  My brother and I were both taken to the Colosseum that day.  That's how I got here.

        "What about you?  How did you get here?"  she asked me.

How will you answer Rebecca?

Easter Rest: He is Risen!

 Over Easter weekend, I was able to take a lot of time to rest--which is exactly what I needed.  On Good Friday some friends and I went to a neighborhood nearby and observed a "walking theater" of sorts put on by the local Catholic church.  I was really impressed at how well it followed scripture, and through 14 different stations, or stops, would present a short part of the story and read or quote scripture.  As the walked from station to station, they would recite or sing prayers.  It was a really great opportunity to see a traditional neighborhood event for Easter. 

Jesus before Pilate

This is just a portion of the group

In a small plaza in the middle of the neighborhood, there was an area set up to mimic the crucifixion.

I hope you had a good Easter weekend and had the opportunity to reflect on what the Lord has done for us!

Silence Isn't Always Golden

This morning I woke up. 
I've been waking up for quite a few mornings now, but recently, it just hasn't felt like enough.  The past few months it has seriously felt like the gravity of the earth increased and no one told me that I would require extra effort to get out of bed.  I had a good laugh when I found this, and realized it was just how I've felt:

Don't worry, I still got out of bed, and got things done--but definitely not at 100% of my normal energy nor 100% quality.  Over the weekend and Semana Santa (Holy Week), I rested a lot, and decided that Monday morning I was starting over.  New records, new attitude, new desire to study, new everything.  And would you believe--I woke up, and even had energy.  So I used it all up, and I'm looking forward to waking up tomorrow with energy, but first, I must go to bed. :-)

Please take a few moments to pray for your missionary friends, that they would have energy through the day to accomplish all they need to do,  and that they would be able to rest in the Lord during all the busy-ness of cross-cultural communication.

Top 10 List

After my last post, a friend asked me, "What exactly is your Top 10 List of Reasons to Live in Paraguay?"  At first, I just laughed, then I realized--that was a pretty good question.  Many people over the past five years have asked why Paraguay, and I generally recount how I heard about missions in Paraguay and how I ended up here.  But now, finally, here it is.....

Top 10 List of Reasons to Live in Paraguay

10. Painting Classes: for only $18.60 per month (for 8 hours of classes.)  

This painting isn't finished yet.

 9. Ground Beef: See all the grease and fat in that pan?  

Exactly--this ground beef taste like ground-up steak.  And, it tastes amazing!

8.  Mangoes:  My neighbors brought this mango back from their house in the country. 

 It is sitting on a standard dinner plate--huge and tasty!

7.  Packages: It's always fun to get a package from home!

 6. Welcoming Group: A group from my church met me at the airport.  

I discovered later that some of them wanted to sing "Carrie" by Europe, but were told not to. :-)

5. Jovenes: The youth from church love getting together and hanging out--usually around food!

4. Small Groups: The ladies from church get together each Tuesday night, and the 20-something girls get together on Saturday afternoons.  These are great opportunities to learn what the ladies are thinking and how they are doing in their walk with the Lord.

 3.  Friends, or Family?: In a mere 7 months, God has given me some great friendships.  They include me in family get-togethers, holidays, moving houses, and celebrations.  

Sergio, Hilda, and Ale working in the Chaco at their grandma's farm

I spend about 4-6 hours each week with Grachi, a lady from church.  She taught me how to sew curves a couple of weeks ago, and let me use her machine to sew my curtains.  I mentioned to her once that my birthday meal is Brasilian rice & beans--and last week she invited me over for lunch for just that meal!  It was a fantastic surprise.

2. Tribal Missions: There are six tribes in Paraguay that need evangelical missionaries.  

I'm hoping to be a part of a team to one of those tribes. 

1. LIVING WATER: Okay, so this picture doesn't quite represent the Living Water of Christ--but He is the number one reason I am here.  Whether or not I am a part of a tribal church planting team, whether or not the friendships I have been gifted here remain, whether or not Paraguay continues to have steak-like ground beef or mangoes the size of my head--the love of Christ compels me, to study Spanish better, to love my friends and new family more each day with His love and in His strength, and to walk in His word daily.  Thank you for your prayers as I celebrate 7 months here in Paraguay!

7?... 7x70?... 490?... or even...

 7,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777,777?

I read that last one in a Bible study a few months ago--that it's possible that in Matthew 18:22 Jesus was saying "7, 70 times."  Really, I don't know Greek or Hebrew, but I do know that Jesus was demanding forgiveness without condition--or limit.

Many times while traveling around the U.S., I was presented with the idea that missionaries are super-human.  No one physically gave me a cape, or made a bronze statue of me (thankfully), but many did put me on a pedestal.  (And I am the last person that belongs up there!)  It was usually inferred by little phrases, meant to be compliments:

"I always wanted to be a missionary, but  _(fill in the blank)_."

"I could never leave my family."

"I don't like bugs and I really  don't like snakes."

"I could never do what you're doing."

"You're so selfless for doing what you're doing."

One side of a missionary scoffs at this--each one of us has a "but" that could have held us back in our home country; I don't enjoy not being a regular part of my family members lives; bugs--yea, if you've been following me a while, you know how I feel about those--and snakes, not currently an issue, but not on my Top 10 List of Reasons to Live in Paraguay; I can't do what I'm doing either; and lastly--here's the kicker--MISSIONARIES ARE NOT SELFLESS.

Not naturally.

Naturally, we are just other humans.  And what drives all of mankind?  Self.  My comfort, my desires, my goals, my dreams.  In every culture around the world, mankind is driven by self-preservation.  When I take a look at the last time I was in an argument, or the last time I was offended--too often it is because I am insisting on my way and want everyone else to do what I want.  Not really Christ's example, is it? 

What sets Christians apart, ought to be the desire to be like a glove.  A glove, laying on the shelf in the garage, is completely useless.  It's just sitting there, collecting dust.  Yet, when put on a hand, it can be an aid to raking leaves, shoveling snow, catching a baseball, or driving a car.  It's nothing without the life that gives it purpose.  Just like that glove, the actions of a Christian are nothing without the Life that flows through us (2 Corinthians 5:14.) 

Since Christmas, I have had the opportunity to go on three weekend trips with friends to visit their family members.  It was so humbling to have friends that I've known for less than five months say, "Come be a part of my family for one of our two most important holidays of the year" and "We're going on vacation, come with us."  And yet, on two of those trips, I made it painfully clear to my friends that I have a natural, fleshy side--that I am not a super-human.  Thankfully, I have been able to go back to those friends, to apologize and explain that I was in the wrong.  

Missionaries and Christians are not super-humans.  But, more importantly, we are "more than conquerors" (Romans 8:37) because Jesus Christ has fought the ultimate battle for us.  He has forgiven us of all our sins.

Read that again.

He has forgiven me of ALL my sins.

 This battle we think we're fighting has already been won.  Because of Jesus Christ's death on the cross, mankind has a way back to a whole relationship with God.  The ultimate forgiveness has already occurred.  My task now, is to walk daily in that forgiveness, to continue to forgive others, and to be quick to ask forgiveness as well.  I pray that last one gets a break for a long time.  

All Roads May Lead to Rome...

...but all pipes lead to the sewer.  I'm convinced of it.  Growing up in the '80s & '90s scarred me from things that come out of pipes--think Gremlins & Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (though, really, that second option was soo  bad, just a little gross!)  Oh, and then there was Ghostbusters, too!

When we moved to Louisiana (I was 11), I learned a new talent--how to kill cockroaches.  Only six months before on a visit to Florida I met my first cockroach, and I'm still recovering.  Those first 10 1/2 years were fantastic.  Every once in a while, a roach would be crawling around my teenage-clothing-covered room, and I'd have to try to find it ::aka, kill it:: in order to sleep peacefully.  Occasionally my brother and I would run to each others rooms at 2am--"Get up!  Help, I can't find it--and it's BIG this time!"  (They're always bigger when you've just woken up!)  Some of our best teamwork was searching through each others rooms to kill bugs and get back to sleep as soon as possible.

But.  I have been to the other side (no, I didn't go down in a sewer!)  I am now south of the Equator.  I have a two-sink kitchen, which is AWESOME.  But, both drain pipes, and the drain pipe from the washer empty into an uncovered hole in the floor. 

UNTIL TONIGHT.

Some good friends here have had worse issues, and covered a MASSIVE hole in their bathroom with a layer (or five) of duct tape.  I'd thought of this and various other solutions, but always assumed they brought the Magic Tape with them from the US.  Today I discovered that I'd been wrong--they bought it here!  I quickly went to visit the hardware store again, and after describing "really strong tape with fibers that's silver colored" the man said "Do you want to fix a pool?"  "Something like that..."  And he handed me multiple colors of duct tape!!  So, after 19,000 guaranies ($4.22) I headed home with a thin roll of duct tape.

And, since it started to rain some today (I learned in LA that rain means the roaches are coming out sooner!), I decided now was the perfect time to tape up the hole.  

I washed the dishes, poured a ridiculous amount of bleach down the drain, and turned out the lights.  We'll see how the kitchen looks in the morning!  I'm hoping I'm done finding cockroaches on my dishes (clean and dirty), in my sink, and just plain where they don't need to be! :-)

Here's hoping I don't have to call the plumber any time soon!