La Granja Lihuen
Cordoba
August 11, 2013
“This is so cool!” pronounced Carlos, leading
Isaiah around the little farm in search of someone who might have a soccer
ball.
“Tiene un futbol?” asked Isaiah of the young farm
hand, leading a horse out of the field.
As the young man handed over a soccer ball, Isaiah
and Carlos took off to the vast yellow field having discovered a little slice of
heaven.
The proprietors of La Granja Lihuen (the Lihuen
Farm) would agree with that description. The rustic retreat center has no
electricity, except for what it produces with a generator. There is little
running water, though there is a network of “acequias” (small canals) that bring
water from the Suqueia River to the crops in surrounding fields. Today, a team
of three men are working on the rusty drop panel that controls the flow of the
water from one channel to another. Their horse-drawn cart is not far away on
the dusty road. We have crossed out of urban life into a
farmer’s domain, enriched here at La Granja Lihuen by a deep Christian commitment.
We are staying in a spiritual retreat center where
concrete block cabins with straw roofs sit like fat squat Buddhas amid a landscape
of wending dirt paths punctuated with small, hand-carved wooden signs offering life direction. Each small plaque offers a quote from the Bible (in Spanish, of course) or describes some feature of Lihuen in biblical terms.
A few singers complain when they see accommodations of eight to a room in triple bunks. The adults have a more luxurious accommodation in double bunks. We have
brought our own sheets to cover the bare mattresses but it will be chilly tonight
as the warmth stored up inside from the sun dissipates. The word “ascetic”
describes this place well.
Yet many of the children are utterly delighted by
the dusty farm. They swing on the tire swing, stroke the many farm dogs, and
make friends with two fat geese. They “baa” back to the two fuzzy black sheep
that talk to us about their hungry tummies at dinnertime.
Our concert at the gorgeous Basilica Nuestra Senora
de la Merced, which dates to the height of Spanish colonialism, was perhaps the
most beautiful of the ten concerts so far. The high dome of the ceiling carried
our music into the heavens and out to the congregation, amplifying it well
beyond the entrance to the church. People from the central plaza stopped and
entered the church to listen. I’ll write more about the church in my next
posting sometime Wednesday night when we next have Internet access.
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