boundaries and friendships

Good friendships have boundaries...and I've heard it said that even God placed limits on how He would permit us to seek after him...

Boundaries can be good. 

I used to think having the friendship was the most important.  But I am learning that the boundaries are equally as much...

It would diminish God to let us approach Him in any way we wanted.  There is value in protecting what is worthy of respect.

It's amazing how, when those boundaries are challenged, rising to protect them increases my self-respect.

Maybe it's because I fear something terrible...fear that I'll cave, compromise, be completely appalled at what I find lurking deep inside me...

Those moments of decision, when the right decision comes out, are encouraging.  They remind me that that God truly is doing a redemptive work, even when I'm not aware He's doing it.

I had an opportunity to practice this yesterday.  It wasn't planned, but it happened, and to my pleasant surprise, I rose to the occasion.  I did the right thing.  I was respectful and calm, but unbudging on my stand.  What surprised me most of all was my willingness to let go.  To give this person the freedom to stay or go their way... True freedom.  With no strings, no anger.  Just the calm assurance that doing so was the absolutely right thing. 

C.S. Lewis talks about cockroaches...how they have a chance to hide if you sneak up slowly, but are caught out in the open if you flash on a light without warning.  So, he says, are those moments when we are caught off guard the surest sign of what lurks within us. 

I was pleased to discover yesterday that there was at least one less cockroach there than I had feared.

And with that came the assurance that maybe my life really is in good hands.  Maybe God really does have everything under control...

As the children's song goes: "He's still working on me, to make me what I ought to be..."  (that's actually the only line of that song I know from memory).

It just amazes me how sleepless nights and other challenges over the course of time can all work together into a master plan, a giant sculpture He has been putting together piece by piece with every challenge, every difficulty, every lesson that turned into a blessing...

Somehow, in the course of losing sleep and dealing with fleas over the weekend, my heart began to change.  In a strange way that I can't fully explain, I felt like a different person on Sunday night than I had when I went to bed on Friday.

Mysterious...yet effective.  Sometimes it takes an unexpected trial to bring the changes to light.

I read this quote in the Slice of Infinity today:

The Christian alternative to a culture of fear is a kingdom of hospitality and abundance, vulnerability and generosity, love and self-sacrifice—the very kingdom Christ shaped with his living and dying, and invites us to do the same. 

Unbelief

The Truth for Life Daily Devotional yesterday talked about unbelief...

I personally struggle most with this in the area of restoration.  It is so hard to look at what has seemingly always been and envision a different future.  Even when I see small changes, and even some big ones, it is still too big of a stretch to envision a fully restored future.  So when any signs of regression come up, I get discouraged and feel like I'm back at square one.

This has happened in some of my relationships in Guatemala.  I see things happen.  I get excited about those changes, and then something happens that makes me feel like everything has fallen right back to square one.

It's really hard to reach out in situations like that.  After all, if I am reaching out when the restoration isn't really happening, doesn't that just make me pathetic?  It's one thing to reach out when the reaching out means something.  It's quite another when I feel like it's ignored, neglected...

If only the restoration was more apparent.  Sometimes I get tired of looking, of hoping for change.  Sometimes it seems like it would have been better to have never hoped at all, to have been content with the present rather than have been taunted by this tantalizing image of restoration that never seems to fully come true at all.

Then I shake my fist at God and want to give up trying...I don't have the patience He has.  I can't cling to the small signs of change like He does.  I can't see them as the sure signs of what He is doing like He can.  I can't, or maybe I just don't.  Believing sometimes takes more effort than I find myself wanting to give.  Hope can be hard work.  Sometimes it's easier to lay down and play dead for a while, at least until I feel more "rested" and ready to start the hard work of hoping all over again.

I want to hope.  I want to believe.  I want to care.  Even if it does feel sometimes like I'm throwing my arms out, pouring my heart and soul into something that is making absolutely no difference...even if it feels like I'm pouring my life blood into an empty black hole.

But sometimes I also want to give up trying.  I want to see some sign that it's doing some good before I pour myself into it any longer.  Before I give I want to know it will be recieved and count for something...

Sometimes I don't like that God can see things in generations...sometimes I don't like that growth can stretch into years instead of merely a day or two.  It is too hard to see the growth when it stretches out across so many days (and weeks...and years). 

So I get discouraged, consider giving up. 

Charles Spurgeon wrote, "Dispel this lying traitor unbelief, for his only errand is to cut the bonds of communion and make us mourn an absent Savior."

I mourn and then get back up again.  So many unnecessary funerals, mourning things that aren't truly over.  It reminds me of a Newsboys song I used to really like when I was in college...I slip into the night, then stumble toward the light, wake up and try again... 

Of course, then there is the final line in that song, the part I like the best: I start losing heart, and then it comes again, lifted from despair by the prayers of someone...

Such a zig-zagged road on the path to redemption.  If only loving people didn't have to be so much work.

fleas and technology

Sitting on my bed tonight while typing a text message, I looked down and saw a little speck of black moving about near the ankle of my pants.  Was it...could it be....why yes!  I grabbed it between my fingers.  It was a flea!  I jumped to my feet in victory, my fingers held aloft and burst out of my room into the hallway.  Making a dash for the bathroom, I went to the sink, knowing from prior experience that their hard outer shell and stellar jumping abilities make these bugs incredibily hard to destroy.  So I put my fingers under running water and watched the little bug get washed away.  (I have to admit, I also did a bit of gloating.  It's not that often I get to rid myself of their powers so easily.  It was a small victory, and I am sure the ongoing conflict between our kinds is not over, but at least for now, for just today, I was able to celebrate a bit and look forward to a bite-free future--the day when a babe will be able to put his hand down a cobra's nest without getting bitten, the day when lions and lambs will lie down together in harmony...and the day when fleas can share my bed and be quite welcome.  I wonder what the fleas will feed on then...apple juice, maybe?)

Speaking of text messages, though, I have been amazed at how much I am learning about technology as a result of being in Guatemala.  Things I have learned since coming here:

How to send a text message (though I only know how to reply to them--I still haven't figured out how to send one to someone first)
How to download programs
How to connect to wireless internet
How to skype and use the internet for phone calls (much cheaper than calling people other ways)
How to burn a CD

There may be more, but that list is just a start.  I guess I'm finally coming into the 21st century.  (That is what century we're in now, isn't it? :-)

bad days

I didn't have an awesome morning this morning.  I think it was a combination of feeling sleep deprived, bit up by bugs, and like I was on the verge of getting another cold (combined with a few other minor inconveniences)...but as I started thinking this morning that I was having a "bad day," I had to stop myself.

I had to stop because I've had some truly bad days in my life, and this one doesn't even begin to come close.  I realized I would a million times rather be living today than some of the other days I've had.  And I'm actually quite thankful that today things are going so well that I can afford to be irritated over some minor inconveniences.  I take that as a sign that things are actually going quite well.  :-)

It reminded me of when I first came here eight years ago, of the very first time I realized that being in Guatemala would mean dealing with fleas.  At that time, I immediately thought of Corrie ten Boom and her story about the fleas in the barracks when they were imprisoned in the concentration camp.  Corrie's sister Betsie wanted to thank God for the fleas, but Corrie found that far-fetched, until later when she learned that the fleas had actually kept the guards out of their barracks and given them the opportunity to be so open about sharing with others and praying to God when they were staying in the barracks.

At the time I thought, sure, maybe that was true in a WWII concentration camp, but I am sure there is NO WAY I will ever find a reason to be thankful to God for the fleas.  I soon realized, though, that I learned to use the Guatemalan bus system because of the fleas.  I was also better able to deal with some other situations that came up later because I learned to deal with the fleas.  This time around the fleas are more a reminder to me of how much I've grown.  Since they bothered me so much before, I am able to see the huge contrast when I don't get nearly as upset now.  And I'm sure there will be more, later, down the road...many more reasons to be thankful for the fleas. 

I wonder if this is part of what makes up wisdom...being able to look back and see what has happened as a result of going through so many different days.  I had somebody remind me recently that God is so much bigger than we give him credit for.  He works through so many different situations in so many different ways.  And the way he deals with each one of us is so very different.  And the kinds of situations he uses often don't even seem like situations he would or could use...yet he does.

I guess I'm seeing "bad days" in a slightly different light.  I don't long for them or ask for them, or even particularly enjoy them, but I've found reason to be thankful that I have the opportunity to have them.  I guess that's growth.

pet peeves

Little animalitos that keep me awake with their bloodsucking habits when I really want to sleep...seriously.

So instead I'm listening to Phantom of the Opera music and waiting to get tired enough to sleep in spite of them.  (Speaking of which, there are Chinese, Italian, and Spanish versions of the Phantom of the Opera songs online?  And Russian...and Korean....)

Here's the Korean version of my favorite song from the movie, if you're interested. :-)

http://youtu.be/e6IveG-rugo

And a Chinese version of the theme song:

http://youtu.be/zZQ02zOgq8E

posting comments

I was asked to give information on how to post comments on the blog since the other information is all posted in Spanish.  (Sorry, it's one side effect of using Guatemalan internet. :-) 

At the bottom of each blog entry, you will see (in small letters) the words: "Publicado por Rebekah" and a time.  To the right of that you will see something that says "0 comentarios".  "Comentarios" means comments.  If you click on that, it will bring you to a white box where you can write the comment (it should have the words: "Publicar un comentario en la entrada" written above it).    After you finish typing your comment, you just click, "Publicar un comentario" (right under the white box).  If you would like to see what it will look like first, you can click on "Vista previa" for a preview.  There is a drop-down menu right above the "publicar un comentario" button.  It says "publicar como" and then has some options.  If you have a log in with google or wordpress or any of those other options, you can enter that information there.  (It will ask for your username with that company.) 

Also, if you are interested in getting updates by email, you can click on: "Subscripcion por correo electronico."  This is just to the right of the "publicar un comentario" button.  I think that is just if you want to be updated if people comment on your comment, but I'm not sure. 

If you are interested in following the blog, you can go to the right hand side of the regular blog screen.  Right now it says: "Todavia no hay miembros.  Se el primero!"  Then it will give you the option to click on whatever way you want to be contacted (Google, Twitter, etc).  If you already have an account set up, you can also go to "acceder" (it should be right below "se el primero").

I hope that helps.  Let me know if you have any questions.

Church

At church this morning, an older man seated next to me asked, "Did you hit your head hard?"  I touched my head, confused, and he said, "You hit your head on the bus," and I looked at him more closely...

Yes, he was the man I had sat next to on the bus that morning on the way to church.  I hadn't been watching what I was doing and had hit my head on the top of the doorway as I climbed into the minivan filled with people.  I don't remember hitting it hard, but it still brought a collective gasp from the people on board (yeah, not so graceful...in fact, it would have been embarrassing if I wasn't used to that kind of thing happening all the time :-) I had completely forgotten about it until he said something.  Once the bus started moving, my energy was focused on staying on board.  Seated right next to the open doorway, I had one arm wrapped around one of the children going to church with us and my other arm braced against the window (with my hand clutching my purse) in order to stay on board.  As we moved, I found myself calmly considering questions like:  "I wonder if the ayudante's grip (the helper in the doorway of the moving van) would keep me on board if I lost my balance, or if he would just cushion the fall as we both flew out into the street?"  (My guess was the surprise of the impact would make the second option more likely--I took advantage of the chance at the next stop to adjust myself a little more securely)  And, "I wonder if the driver would stop the bus if my purse flew out into the street?"  (I thought it wise at that point to tighten my grip.)  The two children with us saw it as a great adventure, giggling each time the bus sped up or slowed down. 

It wasn't frightening, but it was distracting enough that I completely forgot about hitting my head until the man next to me brought it up during church this morning.  Once he mentioned it, I realized it did still sting a little bit (and even does a little bit now).  He gave me an understanding smile and said, "We're short here," and then told me he has hit his head getting on the bus before, too. 

The actual church service this morning was wonderful.  I think I might continue going to this one long term.

New growth

My heart has been doing weird things lately...like waking me up in the middle of the night at odd hours to think about things.

At first I thought this was a problem...at least as far as some of the topics were rather uncomfortable to dwell on.  It was as if the most difficult things that have happened recently were all on the forefront of my mind.

But then, after nearly a week of this, as I was starting to think I wasn't feeling particularly "happy" as a result of all of this, something happened...

I felt my heart tug.  An upward tug.  Like a prayer. 

And I realized that this is kind of like when a bean plant sprouts in the soil...when it looks all awkward and the shell of the bean seed is still attached up at the top.  Definitely not a comfortable position for the bean plant (getting through the soil takes a lot of effort) but definitely preferable to being permanently buried beneath the ground, however safe and comfortable that hiding place might be.  If the bean is going to sprout, it needs to move upward...

I think the late night ruminating was something like that--clearing away the dirt so there's room to grow.

Work

We just finished our first full week of the school year.  I was off cold medicine--which was awesome.

It has been an interesting first few weeks...lots of transition, feeling things out, working to find out where it is that I belong.

My classes have been a balancing act, finding a way to reach those who are just starting with the Spanish language with those who already have high levels of proficiency.  It's constantly in flux, but so far I like it.  I have lots of materials to look through and figure out how to put them together.  I've also had some helpful people give me advice and tips on how to make the classes run more smoothly.  That has been a big help, especially in the elementary classes where I have the biggest range of language proficiency.  Now I am looking into ways to make grammar more interesting for my high school students.  (I figure if I am nearly dozing during my explanation of the grammatical concept, it's probably not very interesting for them--even if the information is really useful. :-)

My day starts at 7 am when I catch the teacher bus to school.  After I get to school, I have about a half hour to prepare before the school day officially starts.  My schedule varies from day to day, but most often I have my middle school class first thing in the morning.  I meet the students by the main building of the school and then we walk down the hill together to the middle school building.  When that class is over, I climb back up the hill to go into a couple of elementary classes for half hour lessons.  Around noon, I usually have a lunch duty of some kind, the age I am with varies depending on the day.  Then, after lunch, I meet with my two high school classes until school is dismissed at 3.  Then I have some time to organize before the teacher bus leaves to take us home.  Since I don't have my own classroom, I do my work in between classes at a table in the school library.  (There are a few other teacher who do the same.)  I have a closet where I can store my things and a little laundry basket to carry materials between classes.

All in all, I would say it's going well.  Always in transition, always room for growth, but it's moving forward.

Patience

I have realized in the past few days that I'm not very patient...

Sure, I've learned to be patient in suffering--there was a lot of kicking and fighting that went into learning that one.  But excitement gets me--I haven't learned how to handle that one well. 

When I'm anxious for something I want it to happen now.  When I see God doing something great (in the beginning stages) I want it completed now.  I think maybe I don't actually trust Him to complete it.

With suffering, I've had to learn to trust He would bring me out of it somehow.  Eventually.  But I guess i haven't gotten very excited about much lately, so when I do get excited, I don't really know how to handle it.

Case in point--friendships, new beginnings.  I see the beginning growth and want to see it completed now.  I have a tendency to forget that much of the joy is in the journey.

I think it's a fear that what I'll find at the end of the tunnel will just turn up empty.  That my hope will be unfounded.  That there will not be the promised ending.

Perhaps I need to find a middle road.  In the process of learning patience in suffering, I think I happened to let go of hope.  And hope is the key to patience in all things.

I happened to read these words from Ravi Zacharias Ministries' "Slice of Infinity" today:

The notion of hope, like many words today, requires clarification.  The word is often spoken of as synonymous with wishing.  We use the term to denote a vague longing for something that we want but find unlikely to happen...Yet hope as it is defined in the Christian worldview is more robust than a wish, more fixed and sure than a vague longing.  It carries the idea of delayed but guaranteed fulfillment.     

It's like carrying helium balloons on a bumpy, winding path.  The balloons are a reminder that you're going to the party.  Sometimes I catch a glimpse of the celebration but then get so sidetracked by the fact that I'm not there yet, that I convince myself the party might not be there after all.  Better to be caught unaware and be pleasantly surprised at the end of the road than get there and find the whole thing was just a mirage.

But hope is based on something solid.  An assurance that even if it does fall through in this life, there will be restoration.  We don't need to set ourselves up for disappointment...

And so I get impatient.  I want to see the ending to know there's proof that what I hope will come to pass.  But maybe there's a way to enjoy the moment, like a child at a scavenger hunt whose excitement builds with every clue that brings the final ending that much closer.  To enjoy it knowing there will be fulfillment and not be discouraged by an expected detour.   

Change

I used to think God's blessing meant that everything would go smoothly.  You know, you've probably heard the stories people tell at church and on missions trips about the way everything came through smoothly, how they experienced "the hand of God"...

I was thinking about that this morning because this trip has not been a smooth one, outwardly speaking.  But yet internally there has been a bit of calm from the storm. 

Guess God's blessing isn't all about making our circumstances run smoothly...

I was talking with another one of the teachers the other day, about the complicated twists and turns life has taken over the years, the challenges, the hardships, the years that can go by before an issue is resolved...and she said something about learning the most from the times that were hard.

I would have denied that with a vengeance when I was younger.  But now that I am older and have walked that road, I know without a doubt that it is true.  Because the fact of the matter is that Guatemala has changed, but I have changed, too.  A lot.  So much so that when I walk the streets of this beloved city, I sometimes don't even feel like I'm me.  I was on recess duty today, watching this new generation of kids run around the playground where I had watched other children run years before, and I felt disjointed as the images of memory melded with the physical before me.  I was standing in the same place where I remembered standing so many times before, but I feel more solid this time, more real.  I marvel at it, really...even though there is still so much of it I don't understand. 

Blood Type

In spite of my precautions with the bug repellant lotion, I think I still picked up a few bites while I was out today.  It's beginning to get comical how they keep finding me whenever I go anywhere, especially when the people around me aren't having any problems.  (It's a good thing there's no such thing as vampires, or they would probably be after me, too. :-) 

So if anybody feels so inclined, they are certainly welcome to ask God to change my blood chemistry so the little bloodsuckers find me a little less appealing

However, should that change not happen, I think I'll just have to chalk it all up as an act of public service.  I'll just be doing my part to support the Guatemala insect population. :-)

Sunday

I went to church this morning with a Guatemalan woman from school. Before I left, since I had been getting so bit up lately, I decided to use a bug repellant lotion someone recommended to me last June.  In spite of the bottle saying it was odorless, I still felt a bit like a walking bug lamp when I walked out the door.  I almost expected to hear little creatures sizzle in the air around me as I walked by.

Finding the first bus went fine.  I needed to take two buses to get to the woman's house. 

We had an unexpected delay at one point as the driver got out of the bus to use his phone...

I was kind of relieved that I wasn't the only one looking around, wondering when the bus was going to start up again.  (Sometimes I'm not sure when I'm just being an American and when it's a legitimate oddity that other people wonder about, too.)  This time, though, I definitely saw other Guatemalans looking around.  Not in an angry way, but like they were wondering when we were going to start moving again.

Later, on the second bus, I saw a man in full clown costume (including face makeup) crossing the street wearing a backpack.  He looked tired.  I wondered if he has to walk to work dressed like that everyday...That would have to be hard. 

The church I visited was very different from the one I visited the week before.  It was simpler, more toned down.  Much smaller.  The people were very friendly.  I think I was greeted three times by people up on stage.  First by the worship leader.  Then by the person giving the announcements.  And then by the pastor in the middle of his sermon.  He asked my name and welcomed me again.  Then he asked me to give the English translation of the word "sun" since he was using the Spanish word in his sermon. 

He told about all the things we have to be thankful for, all the blessings of God that we have all around us.  The list was substantial: life, health, the earth and its abundance, knowledge and understanding, daylight and emotions...

When he mentioned emotions, he dragged one of the speakers for the worship team partway across the stage.  It's just a thing, he said.  He can move it, but it doesn't feel anything.  We, on the other hand, are blessed with emotions.  That hit home.  I have come to understand that emotions are an essential part of being, but I still straddle the fence on actually feeling thankful for them.  But if the alternative is being like a machine--cold and senseless like a speaker system--he has a point.

It was neat to visit the church as an invited guest.  I wasn't on the outside looking in.  I was escorted front and center--literally.  The lady who greeted me at the door put her hand on my back and steered me into the sanctuary.  Then another lady took over and led me to my seat.  (The woman I came with followed behind--and apparently made everyone aware of who I was because shortly after I was sitting down, the people on stage already knew my name.)  The worship leader, after the first song, made eye contact with me and welcomed me, saying that even if I didn't understand the words, he was glad we could worship in the same place.  (I was kind of glad they sang some songs I already knew because, like many Guatemalan churches, I didn't see an overhead with any of the words.)

A group of liturgical dancers were at the front throughout the time of worship.  They wore flowing pink gowns and used scarves, tamborines with streamers, and colored flags depending on the song.  It was a very participatory service.  Even the nine-year-old granddaughter of my friend threw her arms up in the air from time to time to call out, "Gloria a Dios!"  The pastor asked the congregation questions and gave them many concrete examples to go with his lesson.

The people were so very warm and welcoming.  I had a number of people say "Dios la bendiga" on my way out of the church, and even the pastor stopped to ask if I thought I might be coming back again. 

I told him I enjoyed the service, but I think next Sunday I might visit the church I attended when I lived here before.  I've been kind of homesick for it lately.

Saturday morning

I've managed to get seriously eaten up by bugs in the last day or so.  I suspect fleas, but since I don't have a lot of hard-core evidence, I have to say there is still an outside chance it could have been a mosquito.  No use tarnishing one bug's reputation without sufficient reason to do so.  With that said, however, something  climbed up inside the sleeve of my sweater yesterday and left patches of bites along both arms.  A few years ago, this would have seriously bothered me.  I would have freaked out.  Seriously.  And proceeded to wash my clothes, my room, and hang all my bedding in the sun.  However, this time I realize that this didn't happen at home.  While I had put bug spray around my ankles, I had neglected to cover my arms...it just happens in Guatemala.  You go outside, you get bit.  They're everywhere.  As further support to my hypothesis, I went to the market today and came home with a few more bites than I had had before.

It happens.

And I'm not going to worry about it anymore.  Not when there's a laundromat so close to where I live.  Not when it's so easy to carry my laundry there and then go back to pick it up later.  (In Guatemalan laundromats, the people who own the laundromat put the clothes in and out of the washer and dryer for you.  They just weigh the bag of laundry and give you a time to pick it up later.)  Before, I carried all my laundry on a twenty-five minute walk to use the washer and dryer at school.  The laundromat is so much easier.  And so far, I haven't had to make any unplanned trips there.  I truly have been getting bitten when I go outside...

So I'll itch for a while...it's still better than being on cold medicine like I was last week.  I quit cold turkey today.  No cold medicine.  No cough drops.  Nothing.  And so far I am feeling okay.  I think by Monday I might be back to my normal self.  (I am kind of anxious to see what teaching these classes is like when I'm not sick and in a daze from the medicine.)  To celebrate, I think I'll get together with some of the other teachers--be social in a way I couldn't when I wanted to sleep all the time.

After I dropped off my laundry this morning, I went to run some errands, picking up a few things I needed from a couple different places around town.  I love walking in different cities, exploring different streets, learning my way around.  That's one thing I like to do in my spare time whenever I travel.  I think the Spanish students (the foreigners who come here from other countries to learn Spanish) think I'm a little strange in that regard.  They always want to know what major sites I've visited or hope to see.  I tell them where I've been, but when they list off other sites (mostly places that require more travel) they always seem surprised when I tell them I have no plans of going there.  If something comes up so I have to go, I will, but until then I'd really rather explore the inner workings of the city I'm in.

So today I wandered around the city, stopping at the market to buy a bag.  They have sacks that look like they are made from woven plastic bags--very heavy duty and very handy for carrying around all kinds of things.  This time, instead of sticking to the outer shops, I dove into the market's center, melting in with the press of people coming and going in the narrow entryway.  I found just what I was looking for--a man selling all kinds of grains (like rice) in big open sacks on a table had several bags hanging from a beam above the table.  Just the size and color I wanted. 

However, upon leaving the market, I got turned around (either that, or I just forgot to turn--I'm not really sure which).  By the time I realized my mistake, I was in another part of town.  (And why, I asked myself, do my instincts always lead me back to that particular place--especially when I don't live near there anymore?)  So I retraced my steps for a while and then asked a nice lady in a tool shop for directions.  She said to go straight and within about fifteen or twenty minutes I made it back home.  It was an unplanned detour, but I enjoyed the exercise and the chance to see some parts of town I had not seen.  (Some surprising things I saw while I was out this morning:  There was someone dressed like a giant glue stick outside of a school supply store.  And I also saw a woman hula-hooping for money.  The strange thing was that she didn't look particularly Guatemalan...I wondered if she was maybe a tourist or backpacker who spent too much money and needed to raise funds to make her visit here last longer...)

First Day

I came down with a cold just in time for school to start, so my thought processes as I was getting ready for the day today went something like this: 

cough drops?  check
tissues?  check
cold medicine? check
plenty of water?  check
everything else I'll need for my lessons?  yeah, I'll get that together, too...

School started yesterday, but my classes don't start until today.  Yesterday I helped with opening activities, elementary and high school lunch duty, and sat in on high school chapel.  It has been interesting to put names to the faces that look so much older than the last time I saw them (and get to the know the students who were not here before).  I have noticed that the high schoolers hold back more than they did when I knew them when I was younger, but when I make the effort to reach out to them, they seem happy to talk.  I am going to make an effort in the next few days to touch base with as many of them as I can, even if it's just for a minute or two with each one. 

Tomorrow is our first day of school!

My word of the week

I learned a new word yesterday.  The pastor asked the congregation how many people were empadrados and a fair number of hands across the church went up in the air.  Then he went on to talk about how Mary was pregnant before she was married and that didn't keep Joseph from bringing her to Bethlehem to fulfill his civil obligations.  This obedience also resulted in the prophecy being fulfilled of the Messiah being born in Bethlehem.

So I was trying to figure out what empadrado means.  At first I thought it meant someone who had a girlfriend who was pregnant before they were married, but that didn't seem right since so many people raised their hands.  (And it didn't seem like something the pastor would ask a show of hands for in the middle of a service.)  Then I thought that perhaps the word has the same root as the word padre and that it has something to do with men of the house taking responsibility for the family...but again, that didn't make all that much sense with the rest of the sermon.

So I came home and looked it up in my dictionary.  What does it mean?  To register.  As in, to register to vote.  Which makes complete sense with the rest of the sermon talking about why it is important for Christians to vote in the upcoming elections here.

I guess studies aren't that far off when they say that context clues aren't always the best way for people to pick up vocabulary when learning a new language. :-)   

Thoughts on a Sunday

I visited a ROCKING pentacostal church this Sunday.  Picture a good-sized sanctuary in the United States with at least a third of the people jumping up and down during the fast songs and you'll have an idea of what church was like this morning.  (If you click on this link, you'll see what I'm talking about:  http://youtu.be/6VpHJH8nwPI). 

Today was the first Sunday, so we had Santa Cena (the Lord's Supper).  It was kind funny because right about that point in the service I was starting to think, "God, I don't think I can do this anymore..." not because of anything in particular about this church as much as past difficulties that made it hard to get into the worship.  But then I realized they were getting ready to distribute the Santa Cena and that I didn't have to DO anything.  I just had to be there.  That that's part of the joy of the cross, really...that we can be wounded, hurting, and we're not required to DO anything.  Just show up and let God take care of the rest.  (Perhaps that's over-simplifying things a bit, but at the moment, it made sense.)  And I didn't even have to step forward for the communion; the communion was brought to me.

Then after the Lord's Supper we greeted the people around us.  A young girl was seated next to me (she looked to be maybe 12 years old) and when I patted her arm like the people here do, she smiled at  me shyly and then surprised me by giving me a hug.

It made me think about community.  Because I'm not sure I could have fully joined into the worship if they hadn't drawn me into it.  If I had had to go forward alone, find the strength within me to carry me through, I'm not sure it would have gone so well. 

Then this afternoon the family I am staying with invited me to go to the mall with them because one of the children was in a program there.  I was not prepared for how the city has changed.  The pastor of the church I attended in junior high used to tell us about the amazement he always felt when his missionary family would return to the U.S when he was a boy, his awe at the mounds of food in the grocery store, the seemingly endless rows of shelves.  Today I felt this way at the mall.  Could so much have changed in only six years?  Do they really have TWO malls with so many imported American items on the shelves?  It makes more sense to me now why so many teachers are opting for their own apartments.  Finding familiar foods is amazingly simple, even odd imports I never would have thought I would see on Guatemalan shelves--things like fruit roll-ups and Dunkaroos.

I asked the lady of the house if she thought that meant the rural areas might start to change as well.  She said already in her village they have improved ways of purifying water and selling it to the residents.  I have heard of other villages where there is still no access to water at all, where people have to walk to a river a few miles away or rely on rain water.  Villages where parasites are prevalent because of lack of sanitation.  But maybe with the way things are going the next six years will bring change to them, too.  I can hope.

When I was here before, fresh out of college, I thought the difference between our cultures was so great, that the material lack of things was bigger than it was.  Perhaps that was the materialist American in me talking.  In a strange way, it took seeing the people gain those things they had been lacking to see how much we really are the same.

There is energy here.  The people seem more content.  But more than that, they are people.  People, I am realizing, I had defined in part by what they owned, even though material belongings are such a small part of the picture.  But who they are hasn't changed; how I look at them has.

Pulgas

I was introduced to pulgas at the end of the first week of my first stay in Guatemala.  In the beginning, they were the surest thing to make me cry and miss America.  It developed into an ongoing battle doing everything I could to keep away the fleas.

Which is why I was surprised the other day by much I was not bothered when I discovered some new bites.

Before my life revolved around a system of rules to keep the fleas at bay, but they didn't really work.  And I would still wake up nights, anxiously checking to see if they had come after me again.

This time I decided to take it more in stride.  Fleas?  Perhaps.  Or it could have been a mosquito.  Either way, they are only a few bites.  They will go away in time, and they are definitely not worth rearranging my entire life over.

Guatemala has changed...I hear it in the English that is spoken when I walk into the stores.  I see it in the foreigners and the items on the shelves...The city is changing...

No more carrying my laundry to school in a plastic bag.  No more trudging through the dust and up the giant hill to reach my classroom at the beginning of every day.

Now there is a bus and washing machines and there is internet access at the fast food place on the corner.

There's shopping...or so I've heard.  So much more can be found here than I could ever find before.

I like the convenience, but I miss what Guatemala was, the immersion in the culture...

Maybe that side of Guatemala is still here waiting.  Maybe I can find it, tucked away just out of sight.

I met with my old host mother today, the one I lived with the two years I was here before.  She said I should never feel alone--that I can call her day or night and she will come get me if I need her to.  I can spend the night at her house, drop by without calling, stop in for supper...that I'm always welcome to spend time with the family.

Odd how I feel more at home with her and her Spanish than I do this more Americanized version of Guatemalan life all around me.  Stranger still how much I miss it, how much it pulls on me, how much it feels like coming home.

Maybe the Guatemala I remember still lingers.  Maybe it is still there beneath the surface.  Maybe the Americanization is a facade and the heart of this beloved country still beats strongly, just as true.

I hope it does and intend to look for it.

Thankful

This week I am thankful for:

The teacher who helped me find my house after the first day of school.  I had come in late the night before and forgot to get a good look at what the house looked like by the light of day that morning.

The same teacher who helped me reset the time on my cell phone.

A lady at my house that showed me how to save names and phone numbers to my phone.

The two teachers who helped me with downloading issues when I realized I had not downloaded my word processor properly before I left home.

And the lady at my house who is willing to wash bedding at the house so I don't have to carry it to a laundromat or to school.

And for wireless internet--it makes being in Guatemala much easier.

Just a few of the things I have to be thankful for this week.

Dolphins

A friend of mine blogged about dolphins, about how they live in the water but still need to breathe air.  (see the Dwell Richly blog at http://dwellrichly.wordpress.com/?s=dolphins)  It reminded me of the movie Ever After when Danielle asks Leonardo whether a fish and a bird could be together.  His response, if I remember, was: "Then the fish must grow wings."

To belong in two places and belong equally to both.  It is a concept that intriques me and hovers tantalizingly out of reach, but perhaps it's not impossible.  After all, I came back to Guatemala, and I had tried for several years to convince myself to stay away...

To be an American and a foreigner...to live abroad and be at home...to adapt and relate and not lose sense of my real self...to still be me.

Sometimes it feels like a jigsaw puzzle, all this going back and forth.  And in all the times I analysed the puzzle, I got distracted looking so hard to find the final piece.   Or thinking each picture was the puzzle, when really I needed every single one to make a whole.

So I am learning to breathe whatever the circumstances.  To rest abroad and know there are many places where I can feel at home.  But it's not always easy...to find a balance and to breathe knowing that both places are needed to really be at home.

But maybe someday the fish can fly.  Or better yet, the dolphin will continue to breathe.  Part of both worlds.  Subiendo y bajando.  Back and forth with hardly a care in the world.  Doing what comes naturally.  Living equally in both.

I hope you will join me in this journey, of balancing cultures to make a home.