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Hello Friends and Family!

This month we just wanted to share a few clips from our life and ministry here:

“Oh no, not again! Elias, why can't you just tell us when you need to go?” These were the often-repeated words of parents in the midst of potty training, which without training pants or a washing machine, has been a most frustrating process!

Quiet little Marta is transitioning off the streets and now helps us with housecleaning in the drop-in center. At lunch the other day, she pipes into the conversation and says, “Yeah, we don't find what we find here anywhere else. There's something different about this place.” Recently we shared with her the story of Jesus, which was the first time in her life she had ever heard the Salvation story. Please pray that she would understand and accept all that she is learning.

As Elias and I were shopping in the Ceja one day, we passed by a little old woman with her hands outstretched. She was begging, and once again that lump in my throat arose from my uncertainty and discomfort. As naturally as anything, Elias reached out his hand to her. A midst all the commotion and litter, someone stopped to touch a tired, forgotten, dirty old lady. Maybe she needed his simple, unconditional love more than our coin. How grateful I am as a mother, to watch as my son is challenged, even now, to compassion on a daily basis.

We were all laughing around the table, sipping tea and enjoying our dessert that the girls had just learned to make during their skills training Amelia says, “You know, every time we come here, we never want to go to work (on the streets) that evening. It's not like that on other days….I think you guys are putting a spell on us!”

Andy and I were on our way down to La Paz for our weekly Friday night date. I hopped on the bus only to find that Andy had disappeared. Then I heard a ruckus on the streets and find Andy standing over a teenage boy, with his knee in the kid's ribs! Turns out, as Andy was climbing into the bus, he felt someone's hand slip into his pocket. He grabbed the hand, but the boy slipped away, and then Andy's linebacker skills kicked in. Dodging vendors, buses and crowds of people, Andy raced after the boy and took him down. Our money was not stolen, and we enjoyed a very nice dinner out. Aaaah, my hero!

In tears I sat in the chapel of our drop-in center, grieving for my friend Maribel* who had just shared her story with me. When she was 9 years old, she and her sister where forced on to the streets of Argentina . At age 11, a group of policemen took her in, on a customary street clean-up. In jail, she was drugged and raped for 10 days by this same group of men. Then they dropped her off at a convent, where she rested for 2 years, healing from the various injuries and illnesses she contracted. Five years later, she began prostituting. Once again, who am I to judge?

So friends, those are just a few highlights and stories from life in Bolivia . There is always so much to share. Sometimes life is overwhelmingly heartbreaking, other times it is incredibly fulfilling; most of the time it is an adventure. Thanks for riding the waves with us!

 All our love,

Andrea and the Baker boys

*Maribel's name was changed to protect her identity.