Staff writer Michelle de Carion reports from La Paz, Bolivia.

I heard the sound of pounding hammers as I walked down into the shelter community in El Alto. A few men were making repairs on a roof while laughing children ran through the narrow spaces between the small wooden homes.

Samaritan’s Purse provided the funds to build 25 shelters here for families who lost homes during the landslide that devastated their community on February 27. Over 500 houses were destroyed, and thousands of people became displaced. We were able to build the shelters on a large playground nearby by partnering with the local municipality.

I was with photographer Paul Sherar, Deputy Country Director Gwen Snyder, and our driver, Adolfo. To our right, three women washed clothes over a long sink near the bathrooms. When we walked up, a young girl with long black hair ran away as Gwen asked if Paul could take photos.

The people who live in the highlands of Bolivia tend to be more reserved and shy because of the influence of the Aymara—stoic South American Indians who mainly live in the Altiplano.

Almost all of the men were gone either working or at a community meeting in town, but we were still able to meet with a family living in one of the shelters.

We stepped inside and saw three women and a 10-month-old baby. Stacks of clothing, bags, and other personal items like hats and shoes filled the corners. There were scraps of food on the floor—old bananas and pieces of beans. A small stove sat near the door providing a little kitchen area for cooking.




The oldest woman, Jana Jalanoka, was squatting off to the right-hand side of the room. When Gwen tried to talk to her, we found out she is Aymara. For the first time in my life, I needed two translators to do an interview.

Fortunately, Adolfo speaks Aymara and could translate her words into Spanish for Gwen, who then translated into English. Jana told us about the day the landslide destroyed her home.

Jana woke up at 5 a.m., just like any other day. She was sitting with her family having breakfast when the house suddenly slid down the mountain at 7:30.

“We had no warning,” she said. “We all ran out of the house, but we got separated. I was scared to death because I could not find my children or grandchildren.”

After an hour of searching, she was relieved to find her two daughters, Maggie and Susana, her son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren. Jana then went down to the bottom of the hill and reached into the remains of her house to gather any remaining belongings.

For the next two and half months, all eight members of their family lived in a small tent. In March, the temperature dropped drastically, and they were freezing cold at night.

“It was a very uncomfortable situation,” Jana remembers. “We were hoping we could move into a house.”

On May 21, after Samaritan’s Purse volunteers built the shelters, Jana and her family moved into a transitional home.

“We were filled with complete joy when we heard we could move into a shelter,” she said.

Now Jana is living with Maggie, Susana, and baby Pricilla while her son and his family lives next door.

“Before we had no walls, no floors, and no roof,” Jana said. “I felt scared to leave my tent because I was worried people would steal my things. Now I have a lock on my door and more space to live in. Life is much better now.”

I continued to ask Jana how she is feeling now about the situation. As she answered, she burst into tears and covered her face with her weathered hands.

“At the beginning I cried and cried. I finally stopped crying, but I still can’t believe I lost everything. It is hard to believe this is my life now.”

It was incredibly hard for Jana to not only let us, foreign strangers, into her shelter, but even more difficult for her to talk about all of the pain she experienced from the disaster. I asked if we could pray for her.




Gwen and Adolfo led the prayers. Gwen asked God for blessing and protection on her family and encouraged her that God holds every tear she cries in His hands because He understands her deepest pain.

“I was absolutely shocked,” Gwen said later. “I have never seen an Aymara cry. These women are stoic. They never show emotion.”

Before we left, Paul took a few last shots of them in front of their shelter. Maggie and Susana gave us some big smiles right away, but Jana was more reluctant.

She picked up little Pricilla, and for a brief second, I saw her crack a wide grin.

Her tears were gone.

Samaritan’s Purse, with a big assist from local Christian volunteers, continues to help victims of the earthquake and tsunami that hit the northeast coast of Japan on March 11.

Since April 27, over 400 volunteers have stayed at one of our two base camps near the coastal areas where the tsunami filled houses with mud. They have helped nearly 100 families recover from the storm by cleaning out homes and removing debris.

As they work, they are bearing witness in a country where the evangelical Christian community represents less than 1 percent of the population. They are having an impact on homeowners like Kondo, who lives in Ishinomaki.

“Thank you for coming to our house,” he said. “I am so grateful that I cannot possibly express my gratitude with words. You helped with us take out rubbish, soiled futon and tatami mats, clothes, and furniture. I saw my garden surface for the first time since the tsunami. My wife and I are so moved. Now courage and energy to move forward is birthed within me. I will never forget your kindness.”

Staff writer Michelle de Carion blogs from aboard the Ruth Bell, a medical boat staffed with volunteers from World Medical Mission that brings care to isolated communities in Bolivia’s Amazon Basin.

It’s 7 p.m. in Beni, Bolivia, and I have about three more hours before Captain Manuel shuts off the generator and I have to write by flashlight. I’m not sure if the humming I hear is the engine, the fan whirring in the corner, or the insects buzzing outside my window.

Like the rest of the crew and passengers on the Ruth Bell River Boat, I am staying in an 8 feet by 12 feet cabin where there is a bunk bed, a 4-shelf bookcase, and a very tiny chair and desk. White mosquito nets hang around our beds so that we don’t end up sleeping with more roommates than we had planned.

The shipmate sharing the cabin for the week is Sandy DeWitt, a nurse from Fountain Inn, South Carolina. She served with us in Haiti during the height of the cholera epidemic. Right now she is taking a bucket shower downstairs. You have to give up just a few comforts of home when you are in the middle of the Amazon Basin.

From the moment I “walked the plank” onto the boat, my experience has been both magical and sad. Magical because of the incredible beauty of the Mamoré River. Sad because of the suffering we are seeing among the people who live there.

The communities along the river are completely isolated. Because of the fragile nature of the land, they do not have a permanent dwelling place. Many of them have multiple homes, but unlike those in the United States who do it for a pleasant vacation during the winter months, these families have no choice. Half of the year their homes are completely under water due to the rainy season.




Samaritan’s Purse built the medical boat to reach the unreachable, and named it in honor of Ruth Graham and her passion for missions. Most of the people we are meeting have never seen a doctor or held a copy of the Bible in their hands.

Every morning, before the five World Medical Mission doctors and nurses start meeting with patients, we have devotions in the comadore on the first floor of the boat. Yesterday morning, Sergio, a doctor from La Paz who is stationed on the Ruth Bell, taught from John 5 on the lame man at the Pool of Bethesda.

“Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for a feast of the Jews. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for 38 years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”

“Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.”

Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked.

One particular part of the passage stood out. The lame man had been waiting at the pool for 38 years. No one was willing to reach out to him and put him into the water to be healed. He felt forgotten, neglected, unloved.

But Jesus saw him. He picked him out of the crowd and healed him physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.




God has given us an incredible opportunity, through the Ruth Bell, to show God’s love to people like ones at the pool of Bethesda. They are desperate for healing and thirsty for the living water that only Jesus can give.

When I look out onto the river and see glimmers of gold rippling off the waves under the sunset, when I look into the feverish eyes of children, when I shake muddy hands that have been fishing for a catch all day, I know God’s love will never end.

It goes deep into the Amazon jungles, it hovers over the waters of the Mamoré, it washes boldly onto muddy shores where worried mothers, distant fathers, and crying children have never seen or heard of the love of Jesus.

Country Director Tom Mangham blogs from Mongolia.

In the ministries of Samaritan’s Purse, field workers often come face to face with immense human suffering. Certainly there is suffering in every part of the world, but the nature and intensity is very different from place to place.

In Mongolia, the nature of the suffering we face in our work often comes in the form of poverty, broken homes, and unspeakable abuse taking place within families. Mongolian people often suffer with and die from illnesses and conditions that are readily treated in the West. There is widespread substance abuse and hopelessness here as well as deep spiritual oppression.

I met a young mother living in the ger districts, which are shantytowns surrounding the capital of Ulaan bataar. Her family of five lives on less than $2 a day in a tiny rundown shack no more than 10ft by 8ft. In the long winters, more than 70 percent of their income goes to buying coal to heat the home.

When I asked what her hope was for the future, she answered that she dreamed that one day she could afford to send her young children to school so that they might have a chance at a better future, but she did not think that this would ever happen.

When faced with suffering, people of faith are forced to ask where a loving God is in these circumstances. Believers in Christ need to reconcile what the Bible teaches about the character of God and the reality of human misery we see all around the world.

In the book of Job, we find a narrative that asks many of the big questions about pain and despair: Why do terrible things happen to good people? How do we cope with it, and where is God in it?

The answers are not necessarily what we want to hear, nor are they easy and straightforward; however, we are given certain truths and assurances. We are told that God is still sovereign, that He still cares, and that His will is still being accomplished though we cannot understand it in the moment.

We are also told that no matter how terrible things get, there is still hope available as these circumstances are not beyond God’s redemption. In the lowest part of Job’s agony, he is still able to say the words: “As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will take His stand on the earth.” – Job 19:25