Dragon Skin

So, who’s seen “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader?”

Next question: who’s read it?

Since the Chronicles of Narnia is my all-time favorite book series, and since it’s deeply ingrained in my childhood memories (I used to pretend to be Lucy—I even made myself a vial necklace), I waited eagerly for the “Dawn Treader” to come out. To my happy surprise, it came out on December 8th in Colombia.

Like always, there are incongruencies between the book and the movie. Aside from the issue of the invented green smoke (the producers must have seen too much LOST), the movie is lacking in its interpretation of the Eustace the dragon episode. Read Eustace’s vivid description of being “un-dragoned” as he recounts the experience to Edmund.

But the lion told me I must undress first. . . .

I was just going to say that I couldn’t undress because I hadn’t any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that’s what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bath.

But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that’s all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I’ll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this under skin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bath.

Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good. . . .

“Then the lion said — but I don’t know if it spoke — You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know — if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”

“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass, only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on — and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again. . . .”
- - - - -

C.S. Lewis is a genius when it comes to metaphors; what an amazing analogy for the process of sanctification. Becoming the people God designed us to be is a feat that we cannot accomplish on our own. Countless times, I've decided I need to change something about myself. With hard work and self-discipline, I may be able to see an improvement...but it never lasts; there's always another dragon skin hiding underneath (Romans 7:21-24). But when I (with willingness and submission) allow God to work in me, real change--beginning at the heart level and working outwards--takes place. We have to "put off" "put to death" and "rid ourselves" of wrong thinking and behavior (Colossians 3, Ephesians 4), but God is the only one who can make us righteous (Philippians 2: 12-13).

The State of Affairs

I don't know how many of you have seen the news lately, but Colombia is in the middle of a huge crisis. Heavy rains have plagued the country for months,and currently 28 of the 32 departments are in a state of emergency. Rivers have overflowed their banks, and thousands of people are left with nothing.

Here in Atlantico, the department where I live, several villages have "disappeared", covered almost completely by water.

This is a pueblo named Campo de la Cruz.




Bello, a town near Medellin, experienced a landslide a couple of weeks ago that covered dozens of homes.


To add insult to injury, these stagnant waters have become breeding grounds for all kinds of diseases and water-borne illnesses. Rural Colombians are losing their livelihoods of cattle and crops as well.

Events like this tempt us to despair; natural disasters are relentless, and we as humans have no control. We can ease the symptoms of pain, and even that is daunting when we see the numbers of people affected.

Please join me, and thousands of people in Colombia and around the world, in praying for relief from this weather and help for its victims. And if you are able to contribute financially, there are many organizations working faithfully to help those suffering in Colombia.

Vision Mundial Colombia http://www.visionmundial.org.co/eContent/home.asp

Here and There

Though I feel like I’ve been in a time warp of perpetual summer, it’s somehow the middle of December. Christmas is in a week. That just doesn’t seem right, since I went to the beach this week. And I’m sweating under a fan right now. But anyway, December is in full swing.

The highlight of the month has definitely been a visit from my parents. We packed a lot into the eight days they were here, spending a few days each in Barranquilla, Santa Marta, and Cartagena.
Here’s my top 5 list from their week here:
• Showing off the many beautiful places Colombia has to offer.
• Introducing them to my friends.
• Being able to have meaningful conversations with zero language or culture barriers.
• Relaxing on the tranquil beach in Taganga.
• Exploring the enchanting streets of Cartagena.



Now that Mom and Dad are back home, I’m gearing up for my next adventure. I’ll be in Bogotá for 10 days, spending Christmas with my cousin Emily. On December 31st, along with my friend Eileen, I head to Argentina! Somewhat of a spontaneous plan, the two of us will be attending Argentina’s national Campus Crusade for Christ conference, followed by a couple of weeks in Buenos Aires. I'm expectant and excited about this trip--God has worked so many things together to allow me to go!

So though this December and Christmas will be a little different--it's the first one in my life away from home--I'm sure it will be filled with new and unforgettable experiences. But most importantly, the reason for celebrating is the same:

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
Isaiah 9:6

El Camino

Sometimes, I feel like my mind doesn’t have a “play” button—only “fast forward.” When I ought to be delving into the present moment, I’m consumed by the thought, “But what’s next?”

Though I’m not even half-way through my time in Colombia, I’m easily preoccupied by questions regarding the future. Forgetting that God has faithfully led me into each consecutive stage of my life, I worry that I’ll miss out on his will for me.

On a recent hike, as I relied on a guide to show me the way to the destination—to tell me where to step, to hold my hand as I climbed up rocks, even to carry me across a rushing river—I was impacted by the thought of what a great Guide we have in Jesus. The book of Hebrews reveals Jesus as a better sacrifice and a better high priest—superior to his human counterparts. In the same way, he’s a better guide. I was impressed by our guide’s knowledge of the path, by his strength and seemingly endless energy. But he’s a human being, and his wisdom and strength are finite. God, on the other hand, created the paths, he created us, and he leads us perfectly on the paths he has laid out for each one of us.

So the challenge is to listen carefully to his guiding voice, to hold tightly to his firm hand, and to trustingly and confidently walk on this present path, leaving the future up to him.

This is what the LORD says—
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:
“I am the LORD your God,
who teaches you what is best for you,
who directs you in the way you should go.” (Isaiah 48:17)

Reflections from a novice language teacher

Here’s another “language” blog entry—and a long one at that. So I won’t hold it against you if you have zero interest in reading it. But I process through writing, and having just finished my first semester as an official English teacher, I have a lot to reflect on!

To start with, I’m posting a little “manifesto” that I wrote several months ago, shortly before embarking on this Colombia adventure:

The Weight of Teaching Language
One month away from beginning my first job as a teacher of English as a Foreign Language (EFL), I’m overwhelmed by the responsibility that lies ahead. As a recent college graduate, feeling unqualified for my first “real world” job is to be expected. However, I believe that language teachers possess an even greater burden than the typical pressures of a new job. So here's my personal attempt to put into words what I believe are the unique responsibilities and privileges of a foreign language teacher.

We all know that communication is the key to relationships. As I consider my own relationships with other English-speakers, I realize that no amount of shared interests, nods or smiles can account for their success. Nor would we have much of a relationship if our language was limited to introductions and requests for food or lodging. No, the depth my relationships can be accounted for by unhindered communication. Whether discussing the mundane, sharing inside jokes, or having a heart-to-heart conversation, my ability to use the full gamut of the English language makes it possible for me to enjoy meaningful relationships.

I believe that depth is possible even in cross-cultural friendships, but once again, language is key. Language can be the greatest includer, and the lack of it the greatest ostracizer, for our ability to communicate in the language of our host country is the definitive factor in the measure of our relationships.

So as I prepare for my move to Colombia, I’m faced with two quandaries. First, is my Spanish sufficient to break the invisible barrier that divides acquaintance and meaningful friendship? Second, how will I teach English in such a way to prepare my students for deep relationships?
..........................

Now, after having spent four months immersed in Colombia, I’m more convinced than ever how crucial communication is. As I’ve mentioned before, there are so many times I feel completely frustrated by my level of Spanish. Sometimes my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and I can’t suéltalo (get it out). Sometimes I make stupid mistakes I should have left behind in Spanish 101. Sometimes I know that word is in the recesses of my brain but I can’t access it. Those times are frustrating. But there are other times when something clicks and I can converse without struggling. There have been little victories like being told my Spanish is noticeably better than when I first arrived, or when I make the conscious effort to adopt the Colombian intonation and inflection [and you know what’s interesting? Just swapping English muletillas (fillers) like “uhhhh” “um” for Spanish ones like “eehhh” “o sea” make a big difference in how “gringo” one sounds!].

Other victories are when I see noticeable improvement in my students’ English: when they use idioms I taught them, when they self-correct their mistakes…or most flattering of all, when they use some of my activities to teach their own classes!

Two factors help me avoid discouragement regarding language learning. One is that I’ve come to the conclusion that it is not a linear process. Yes, there’s a natural order (linguist Stephen Krashen writes on this), but a student’s progress is full of little ups and downs; two steps forward, one step back. I’ve seen that in my experience and in my students’. So there’s no reason to give up hope when it’s hard to see progress, or even with apparent regression. The other factor is that success in second language acquisition does not rest on perfection. Of course we should set our standards high and never be complacent, but on the other side is the risk of arrogant perfectionism. The goal is communication and connection—using the gift of language to break through cultural barriers.

Looking back on my first semester of teaching, I’m truly grateful! Teaching at a public Colombian university has been an amazing experience with its unique set of victories and challenges. Looking forward to the next semester…but first: vacation!

Pictures are worth a thousand words...

…right?

Because I’m lacking the ganas or chef (Spanish and Romanian work better than English here!) to write blogs, but I’m determined not to abandon the effort! So here’s a little summary in pictures of recent happenings:

In mid-October, I finally made it to Santa Marta, a beautiful area of the Caribbean coast. It's the oldest settlement in Colombia as well as a little taste of paradise! I went with Maureen (my co-Fulbrighter) and some of her friends. It was adventure that included spending the night in a hammock on the beach, eating freshly caught fish, and snorkeling.





At the end of October, I joined the leaders of VPU (Vida Para la Universidad, the Colombia chapter of Campus Crusade) on a retreat in Armenia (in the beautiful "Eje Cafetero", or coffee-growing region). It was a wonderful weekend: refreshing, challenging, inspiring, and a great time to connect with the other leaders. Oh, experiencing fall-ish weather was a nice break, too.


(Andrey, Jean Carlos, Pochi, and Melissa--excited to ride a plane for the first time!)


(The landscape from our conference center)



(We had a little midnight adventure in Cali on the way back!)


(My church hosted another medical brigade...)



(...I translated--and lent a hand with wound cleaning...)



(...but the best part is that several of my English students volunteered to translate!)

Well, there's a few of the most blog-worthy pictures for ya!

Junior…¡Tu Papá!

This weekend I completed two more items on my Barranquilla bucket list: going to the zoo and attending a Junior game (Junior is B/quilla’s soccer team). For the past couple months, Granfield (my fellow English professor and “tutor,” or mentor, that UA assigned to me) has been telling me that he wanted to take me to a Junior game, and the opportunity finally came. Since I don’t own a jersey, I wore a red t-shirt to show my support. Granfield and his wife and son did the same. Big mistake. Turns out, at home games Junior fans (Junioristas) wear either the striped jersey or a white t-shirt. Especially when the opposing team is América, the rival from Cali, whose color is red. Junior games are infamous for getting rowdy, meaning you probably don’t want to be mistaken for a fan of the rival team. Fortunately (I guess), Junior was just eliminated from the tournament, which means there wasn’t much of a turnout at the stadium. And América won, 2-0. So although the game might have been lacking the normal hype and hysteria, the bright side is that there wasn’t utter mayhem. Well, actually a fight began to brew when América scored its second point, and a group of América hinchas (fans) behind us cheered, provoking the Junioristas. At this point Granfield grabbed me by the arm and pulled me a safe distance away. The police took their time sauntering over to break it up and kick the América fans out of the stadium. We decided to split about 10 minutes before the end of the game so as not to be the target of the Junioristas disappointment. And sure enough, on the way out, we got asked, “Hey, are you América fans?!” Lesson learned: wear a Junior jersey to the next game!







(I think he wins the prize for most passionate fan. Check out the shark (the mascot) attached to his hat!)



(I believe this qualifies as corroncho--Colombian redneck)

When a dictionary is not enough...

In comparing languages, there are countless examples of instances when two groups of people have different words for the same concept. English: word; Spanish: palabra. English: to travel; Spanish: viajar. The list is infinite. But what intrigues me is that two cultures can have distinct concepts for the same thing (or rather, for the same word, though translated correctly). Here are a few examples I’ve picked up on here in Barranquilla.

1. “on time”: In the U.S. being on time means you arrive no later than 9:00 for a 9:00 appointment. Though running late is, unfortunately, becoming the norm, we still consider anything after the set time to be “late.” Here, however, nobody arrives on the hour. Once I was invited to an event that started at 5:00. As I was walking there, I was sweating a little because I realized I would be 5 or 10 minutes late. When I arrived at 5:10, however, my friend told me, “Oh, Iris, you’re early!” And sure enough, things didn’t get started till 6:00, even though it was programmed for 5.

2. “a week/two weeks”: Here in Colombia (and in many Spanish-speaking countries), a week is referred to as ocho días (eight days) and two weeks as quince días (fifteen days). When I first heard someone say that something occurred eight days ago, I took them literally. But they really mean a week. Seven days. As I was leaving an appointment at the dermatologist one Monday, the doctor told me should like me to come again in ocho días. So I repeated that to the secretary, who signed me up for the following Monday. It’s interesting that when Spanish speakers learn English, they rarely pick up on this conceptual difference and use “eight days” interchangeably with “one week,” and the same thing with “fifteen days” and “two weeks.”

3. “blond”: Though English speakers admit that there is a wide range of blond (dirty blond, strawberry blond, etc.), rubio (or mono, as they say here in Colombia) has an even broader definition. To me, my hair is obviously brown. Not even light brown. I’d say it’s a solid medium brown. My driver’s license even says so. But here, I’m blond. Not only because my hair isn’t black, but because I have light skin and blue eyes.

4. “winter”: Here in Barranquilla, temperatures are in the 90s all year round with very little difference. Well, everyone says that in December, a cool breeze make it much more refreshing. But oddly enough, it’s not the “cool” December that is referred to as winter; it’s the hottest, wettest season. I can’t get over reading about the current invierno (winter) in Barranquilla as the scorching sun beats down on me!

Since I'm a nerd and I love fun facts about language and culture, I find this stuff fascinating! For those of you who agree, I’ll try to add to the list over the next few months :)

Life Is Good

I realize my blog posts are becoming fewer and farther between, and I suppose that´s because life has mostly settled into a routine and I´m lacking new and interesting things to recount.

I´ve been in Colombia just over two months now, which is hard to believe! On the one hand, so much has happened since my plane touched down on July 28th that it seems like that must have been at least six months ago: I´ve moved to a new country, become a college professor, (somewhat) learned my way around this chaotic city, met a ton of great people, and adapted to the weather, speech and customs of life on Colombia´s Caribbean coast (or at least I can say I´m off to a solid start). But on the other hand, these last two months make up 20% of my 10-month stint here. When I think of it that way, I´m saddened by how fast time is flying!

Overall, things are going great here. Of course, there are the little ups and downs of life, just as there are wherever you live. There are days when my lessons go better than expected and I feel like a successful teacher; other days, technology fails, I forget some important material, or for some other reason the lesson bombs. Some days I notice the progress in my Spanish and the language flows; other days I just can´t get out what I´m trying to say. Some days I successfully navigate life in Barranquilla, both culturally and regarding transportation. Other days I feel overwhelmed and long for the familiarity of my stomping grounds and culture. Some days I thoroughly enjoy time spent with my new friends here; however, there are plenty of times I dearly miss my family and friends spread all over the world: North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, Turkey, Italy, Indonesia, Korea, Romania.

But at the end of the day, I really can´t complain. I´m living the experience I´ve worked towards for years: living in Latin America, immersed in Spanish, teaching English. In addition to that, I have a God who walks with me through all these ups and downs, and I don´t say that lightly; He is faithful and he never fails. He provides for me daily in countless ways, and every good thing in my life is thanks to Him (James 1:17).

Contentment is a choice. Though I have many reasons to be content in the circumstances of my life here in Colombia, when I´m firmly convinced of God´s goodness and control, I can be content in all occasions (Philippians 4:12)

Brigada de Salud

Gripa, tos, fiebre, rasquiña, tapado, brote, pulgante, riñones…

These, among other words for body parts, symptoms and ailments, comprised my vocabulary this past Sunday and Monday. Why? Over the weekend, I served as an interpreter in a free medical brigade as I tagged along with a team from the US.

On Friday, a group of 14 Americans (from Colonial Heights Baptist Church in Mississippi) arrived in Barranquilla to spend a week serving the community through construction, evangelism and medical care. Bernardo (the pastor of my church here) and his wife Mildred host teams like this several times each year. They invited me to spend the weekend with them at the camp in Galapa (a municipality just outside Barranquilla) and to help with interpreting.

I can truthfully say that the weekend was one of my top three highlights of my first two months in Colombia. It was refreshing to get out of the city for a few days and to be in the company of fellow Americans. But more than that, what a fulfilling use of time. Especially amid my recent discouragement with language learning (see the previous entry), it was rewarding to be able to use my Spanish to serve others. God doesn’t require perfection; rather, it is availability and willingness that please Him. I’m realizing that I often cross the fine line between striving for excellence and proud perfectionism.

Also, the campaign displayed the body of Christ at work! Some used a hammer, others a stethoscope and others their mouth, but “each one should used whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms” (1 Peter 4:10).

In our makeshift clinics,


between two doctors we saw about 150 patients per day. The majority complained of gripa (translated as the flu, but really it’s the common cold), but we also saw scabies, skin fungus, acid reflux, arthritis, kidney infections, epilepsy, high blood pressure, yeast infections, malnourishment and parasites. And tons of pregnancies, often with girls as young as 15.

Serving in the brigade brought on mixed emotions. It was a joy to bring this free service to some of the poorest communities in Barranquilla. The people’s faces lit up when we handed them their prescriptions for free meds and vitamins. You could see the weight being lifted as they envisioned the coming relief from their pain.

But the joy was tainted by the reality of how short-lived their reprieve would be. We can give these young moms prenatal vitamins, but we can’t do anything about teenage pregnancy. We can give the kids a parasite pill, but we can’t replace their infested water with safe water. We can give the old ladies medication for their arthritis, but that too will soon run out.

That’s why this medical campaign would be incomplete without also bringing the truth of the gospel. Members of this Mississippi team also shared their own stories of hope with the Colombians they met. Though it may not have been the material desperation we see here, we all were once “sick” and in need of a remedy. Through Christ, we have hope, forgiveness, and a reason to live. In the past few days, dozens of people have received not only relief from physical pain, but have begun a relationship with God, the best Doctor of all.

At the risk of breaching the “too long of an entry” mark, I want to post the lyrics to “Instead of a Show” by Jon Foreman, the lead singer of Switchfoot:

I hate all your show and pretense
The hypocrisy of your praise
The hypocrisy of your festivals
I hate all your show
Away with your noisy worship
Away with your noisy hymns
I stomp on my ears when you're singing 'em
I hate all your show

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show

Your eyes are closed when you're praying
You sing right along with the band
You shine up your shoes for services
There's blood on your hands
You turned your back on the homeless
And the ones that don't fit in your plan
Quit playing religion games
There's blood on your hands

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
I hate all your show

Let's argue this out
If your sins are blood red
Let's argue this out
You'll be one of the clouds
Let's argue this out
Quit fooling around
Give love to the ones who can't love at all
Give hope to the ones who’ve got no hope at all
Stand up for the ones who can't stand at all
I hate all your show

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
I hate all your show

I love this song, and I saw it played out through this team. It wasn’t about “religion games,” but rather about giving “hope to the ones who’ve got no hope at all”. Faith without works is dead (James 2:20).

Learning?

I have a confession to make: Lately I’ve been feeling discouraged, disillusioned and jaded by this whole foreign-language thing. Yes, I majored in Spanish as a second language, and yes, I’m teaching English as a foreign language. But I’m discouraged on both fronts.

I have studied Spanish continuously since the age of 14. I took it all through college and aced all my classes. But now, Spanish is no longer a convenient accessory. I eat, sleep and breathe Spanish these days. And I’m surviving. But I wouldn’t say I’m thriving.

It’s extremely frustrating to have thoughts trapped in my head that I can’t verbalize. It’s not like back in the States I say everything that comes to mind—but the point is I could! Here, it’s like the people I meet are only meeting half of me…when I’m asked my opinion, my response is often incomplete. I don’t have a sense of humor in Spanish. I don’t have the capacity for casual banter—if I make the effort to talk, it’s usually for a specific purpose.

Adding to my language frustration is the concern that I’ve plateaued—stagnated—fossilized. Ideally, after a few months here I’ll be “fluent” (which, by the way, I feel is a useless word due to its subjectivity and ambiguity). But I fear that I will never achieve that level.

I recently came across these two quotes:

Learning is like rowing upstream: not to advance is to drop back. ~Chinese Proverb

Learning is not a spectator sport. - D. Blocher

Obviously, the idea is that the learner is responsible for learning. Passivity doesn’t get us anywhere. And I’m certainly tempted to be passive when it comes to communication. If I don’t know how to say it, I don’t bother—or I over-simplify. Instead, I should struggle through it. Look things up, ask questions, circumnavigate.

As I mentioned at the beginning, I’m disillusioned with language as a teacher as well. My students are great, and classes are going well. But as I long for fluency in Spanish, I desire fluency in English for them. And I’m realizing what a challenge it is to be an effective foreign language teacher.

More food for thought:

The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires - William Arthur Ward

The biggest enemy to learning is the talking teacher. - John Holt

I’ve had enough TESOL classes to know that ↓TTT (low teacher talk time) is the goal. But how in the world do I inspire my students to learn English?

And I’ll end the blog with that question, because I certainly don’t have the answer right now.

"I was a stranger and you welcomed me"

To give you a little idea of what Barranquilleros are like, I thought I’d share a few phrases that I hear almost on a daily basis:

“Bienvenida”: (Welcome): Colombians, especially Barranquilleros, are very receptive to foreigners. I can’t avoid getting stares and questions…I stand out just a little [someone explained to me the other day that I’m “blond” even though I have medium-brown hair. Here “blond” is the combination of light skin+blue eyes+ lightish hair]. Anyway, many people have gone out of their way to welcome me to their city and country. On Sunday I spent the afternoon in Soledad, a municipality right outside Barranquilla, visiting a friend who lives there. We ate a pastry in a little bakery, and before I left the young woman behind the counter handed me this:



[Welcome to Soledad! God bless you, and here’s a gigantic hug. From your breadstore, Trigo Pan. Soledad, Atlántico].

“Esta es tu casa”: (This is your home): A variation of “mi casa es su casa,” this offer has been made to me on numerous occasions. Mostly, I’d like to mention my host parents, “mis papás colombianas,” Omar and Gina. I am so blessed by them and the way they’ve taken me under their wing. From the day I arrived in Colombia, they assured me that I was welcome in their home whether temporarily as I looked for housing or long-term as a home-stay arrangement. They explained to me that they have two grown sons who live in the U.S. who have been “adopted” by many kind Americans, and they want to do the same for me, since my family is far away. I’m so thankful to have a comfortable living situation—not only a roof over my head, but an adoptive family for my time here!


Gina and Omar

“Cualquier cosa, a la orden”: (Whatever you need, I’m happy to help.): From the couple beside me on the airplane to families at church to my students, I’m frequently reassured that I have people to turn to. This is really comforting because, as the new girl in town, I’m often clueless. When people say this, I can really sense their genuine willingness to help; it’s not just a meaningless “lemme know if ya need anything.” A quick example is the man on the bus who can tell I don’t know where to get off and asks me where I’m going, then signals the driver to stop so I can get off.

“Mi reina, mi princesa, mi vida, mi corazón, nena, mija”: (my queen, my princess, my life, my heart, honey, my daughter): These are just a few of the pet names that are so common here. I think it’s adorable.

“Te invito”: (I invite you): This is what Colombians say to when they’re picking up the bill. Here, it’s rare to split the bill when you go out (going Dutch, or “a lo Americano” as they say here). Instead, one person pays for everyone—it’s just assumed that things will more or less even out over time. It’s cool that people don’t stress about being equal down to the penny.

“Te acompaño”: (I’ll come with you.): Yet another way that I feel cared for as the foreigner in Barranquilla; people offer to go with me so that I won’t get lost, overcharged by taxi drivers, etc. I really feel fine about getting around by myself, because I can always ask directions or take a taxi as a last resort, but I’m thankful for people who go out of the way to get me where I’m going.

On an unrelated note, here are a couple of other recent pictures:




[I taught my friend Eileen, who, along with her cousin, owns a chocolate/dessert business, how to make an All-American Apple Pie. They were invited later that day to demonstrate the process on a local TV show!]


[Eating lunch with a few of my wonderful students from my English 3 class]


[My “souvenir” from riding a mototaxi. It’s a well-known fact (to everyone but me, that is) that you get down on the left side because the muffler is on the right…]

The Bus Blog

The buses of Barranquilla have caught my attention since the day I arrived. I stared out the taxi window on my way from the airport, amused by the wild colors and blinking lights. I was afraid I would never understand how they work. A month later, I have by no means mastered the bus "system," but I'm slowly but surely trying new routes and learning my way around.

I've been wanting to photo-document these crazy buses for weeks, but whipping out my camera on the street or on the bus would not be the smartest idea. The other day I was determined, though, so I sat on some stairs near my apartment and attempted to, as subtly as possible, snap pictures of all the buses that went by. Here's the result:



















The inside of the buses are the best part, though. Each bus has its own theme, whether Jesus, Junior (the local soccer team), or the driver's significant other. Many have fringed curtains adorning the windows or a gear shift cover that looks something like a shag carpet with a face. Sometimes the decor reminds me of a dilapidated carnival, or the scene from "The Five People You Meet in Heaven"---the chrome has lost its shine and the red fabric looks a little dingy.

Since I'm probably not going to risk taking pictures on the bus, I'll have to leave it up to your imagination. Or you'll have to come visit...

There's an internal conflict going on.

No, I’m not talking about the Colombian government vs. the FARC.

The conflict I’m referring to is the war between my sinful human nature and the new life I have in Christ:

“For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:18-19)

Sometimes the desires of the flesh are subtle. Is it wrong that I long for comfort and familiarity, to feel “settled” here in Colombia, to find contentment in a routine of teaching at the university, attending a church, hanging out with friends, serving in the community? Is it sin to desire to travel, learn to salsa dance, and enjoy this cross-cultural experience to the fullest?

I don’t think so.

God has given me this opportunity to live abroad for a year, and I’m sure it brings him joy to see me delight in the richness of a culture he created. I’m slowly adjusting to the routine of life in Barranquilla, and I plan to see, hear, and taste as much of Colombia as I can over the year.

However, spirit wages against flesh as I cling for a sense of stability when everything is new and unfamiliar to me, when I’m stretched far beyond my comfort zone every day.

Do I find strength in myself, in my ability to cope and adapt? Do I find comfort in routine and familiarity? Do I find fulfillment in new experiences?

Or do I depend on God for strength, comfort and fulfillment?

Some verses I’ve been reading recently encourage me to do so:
“I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.” (Psalm 18:1-2)

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life” (Psalm 119:50)

“You are my portion, O Lord.” (Psalm 119: 57)

“I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you.” (Psalm 63: 4-5)

Cross-cultural experiences are great, and I’m enjoying my time here in many ways. But I’m realizing how crucial it is to be aware of this struggle going on, because the only real, lasting fulfillment I will find is in knowing Christ.

Just another day at UniAtlántico...

[Wednesday August 18th]

6:00 Catch the bus to campus

6:30-9:30: Spanish Phonetics and Phonology: I foolishly thought this would be an easy class since I’ve studied Linguistics…today I realized what a challenge it will be, but I’m ready to take it on!

10:30-12:30: Elementary English class: The most challenging aspect of teaching this course is the great range of the students’ abilities. A handful speak only a few words and hardly dare to whisper an answer in class; others speak confidently and with relative fluency. Today we did an extended partner activity which enabled me to walk around and work with each pair for a few minutes. I’m looking for ways to meet the needs of each student and give enough attention to those who are further behind.

*Our class was disrupted by the sound of loud chanting coming from the plaza below the classroom. I stepped outside to see students marching, chanting and carrying a banner. A professor informed me that it was no big deal, just students expressing their opinion about the upcoming vote for a new rector.

12:30-2:30: As I headed for the cafeteria, an infamous Barranquilla downpour began. I spent my two-hour break semi-shielded from the rain (the cafeteria is basically a glorified gazebo), chatting with students. I ran into Luis (a new friend through VPU, a student group associated with Campus Crusade) and we had an interesting discussion about religion with the guy sitting next to us. That stretched my Spanish communication skills for sure.

2:30-4:30: Advanced English class: Great conversations including a discussion about “respectable” vs. “stigmatized” occupations, and a fun lesson on idioms.

At 5:30 I arrived home, changed clothes, attended the performance of a friend’s acapella group, returned home, chatted on Skype with my community group (yay!), graded assignments, planned lessons, and finally crashed!

Fritos and Frutas

In Barranquilla, you never run the risk of going hungry. Restaurants and snack stands are never more than ten feet away. You’re likely to see a restaurant on every corner advertising the daily corriente, a filling meal of soup, meat, rice, plantains, salad and a drink that goes for about $2.50.

Also readily available is a wide selection of fritos, not as in The Frito Bandito, but a variety of fried victuals including empanadas, arepas, and deditos. Arepas are an essential part of the Colombian diet, and they come in many varieties. Here on the coast, the preferred arepa has egg inside.



My favorite item on the Colombian menu, however, is the jugo—juice. Jugos are a blend of fresh tropical fruta, water or milk, and a generous dose of sugar. One of my goals for my year here is to sample as many types of jugo as possible. Here’s my list so far:

• Lulo (a fruit native only to Colombia—I don’t know if it has an English name)
• Mango
• Fresa (strawberry)
• Mora (blackberry)
• Feijoa (I don’t know the English term for this one either)
• Maracuyá (passionfruit)
• Piña (pineapple)
• Papaya
• Guanabana (don’t know the translation)
• Tomate de árbol (translated as tree tomato, but it tastes nothing like tomato)
• Guayaba (guava)
• Tamarindo (tamarind)
• Maíz (corn)



Not too shabby for just two weeks into my trip. But that’s not even scratching the surface…

Immersion

Almost two weeks after arriving in Colombia, I’ve had my first few days of total immersion. This is what I wanted: To be surrounded by Spanish and by Latin American culture. Now I’ve got it, and it’s both exciting and draining.

As much as I love being around other languages and cultures, I’m finding that adjusting to life abroad is harder than I expected. Unlike other times I’ve traveled, I’m truly “alone” in this: the only gringa in my home, university, and community thus far [with the exception of Maureen, the other Fulbrighter in Barranquilla who is assigned to a different university]. It’s exciting to hear and speak Spanish all day…but I’m finding that I also feel isolated. Though I can communicate well in Spanish, most of my conversations are neither the superficial chatter of daily life (think about how much of nothing we talk about with the person sitting beside us, in line, etc.) nor the deeper, “real” issues. Beyond spoken language, I wonder how many non-verbal faux pas I commit each day. But even though I can’t picture it now, I know the day will come soon enough when I can communicate more easily, get around the city, a have somewhat of a routine.

Soon after arriving home from Bogotá last Friday, I met up with a friend (of a friend) who I have been communicating with online as I’ve been preparing to come to Barranquilla. Her name is Eileen, and she’s one of the student leaders of Campus Crusade for Christ at UA (my university). She invited me to spend the night at her house on Friday night and to join her mom and friends on a trip to Cartagena on Saturday and Sunday. Let’s just say that this past weekend was a dive right into the heart of Colombian culture. After meeting at the mall, Eileen, her sister, friend and I took the bus to her house, which turned out to be about 45 minutes outside of the city. Flying down the highway in a crowded bus, I took in the scene around me: a little old man with a wad of bills in his hand shouts “Raise your hand if you haven’t paid yet!” (talk about using the honor system).The interior of the bus is decked out in gaudy, fringed red curtains, blinking lights, decals of Jesus and a nude silhouette. Vallenato music pours out of the radio. When the money-taker calls out “Palmarito!” our group gets off the bus and crosses the pitch-dark road to Eileen’s house. A five-minute walk from the beach, the little house where Eileen and her mom live consists of one large room with a corner dedicated to the kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with two big hammocks. Eileen had told me that her house has been like a hostal lately, with many friends staying there. I joined the group, making 10 of us stretched out on beds and mattresses in the one room. That night we had dinner at about 10:30, played UNO, and went to bed [typical of Colombian hospitality, I was given the best bed].

On Saturday morning, Ginette (Eileen’s mom), Christian (an Ecuadorian friend staying with them) and I caught a bus to Cartagena. An hour later, we arrived at the apartment of Ginette’s cousin, who lives in the perfect location: across the street from the beach and a few blocks from the historic walled city. On Saturday we saw the key tourist sites: the walled city dating back to the colonial period, San Felipe fortress, the Inquisition Museum, the house of Rafael Nuñez (a Colombian president during the 19th century). In the late afternoon we went for a swim in the Caribbean and watched the sun set (it’s dark by 6:30 here—we’re near the equator). After dinner we ventured out again. The old city was lit up, and horse carriages filled the streets. On Sunday, after walking through Manga (another historic neighborhood) and strolling on the beach, we caught a bus back to Barranquilla.

This week I’ve gotten thrown right into life at a Colombian public university. On Monday morning I came to campus to figure out my responsibilities as an ETA. I met with the registrar to create my schedule and observed a class taught by my tutor (mentor), Henry Granfield (he’s Colombian…with a name like that, I was expecting a Brit). Turns out I’m not really going to be an ETA (English Teaching Assistant) but rather a full-fledged profesora, teaching university-level courses on my own! In addition to teaching two courses (one is 4 hours a week, the other is 6 hours per week), I’m offering two English Clubs each week in order to give students (from any major) an opportunity to practice communication informally. I’m also taking a course on Spanish Phonetics & Phonology. It meets Wednesday mornings from 6:30-9:30. I’m writing this blog as I sit here at 8:35 and the professor hasn’t arrived yet…

Yesterday I taught my first class: a language and culture class for 8th semester English majors (it takes 10 semesters to complete a degree here). I really enjoyed the class yesterday. There were ten students (I’m sure there will be more over time, but things start gradually here). As I didn’t have the textbook yet (or even know what it was…neither did the students!) we did some introductory activities. During my final semester at Lee, I took a course called Capstone that all foreign language majors take. One of the books we read is called The Gift of the Stranger and it explores the idea of using a foreign language to serve and bless other people, whether we are the “stranger” abroad or are in our home country with “strangers” among us. I was thrilled to be able to incorporate this topic that was very influential for me last year in my advanced class yesterday. After having students list on the board all the reasons they could think of for studying a language (to improve their resume, to network, to talk to people from another country, to study abroad, etc.) I had them decide and make note of who benefited from each of those reasons. We discovered that most of our motivations for studying a language are self-centered, whether it’s to advance a career or be more well-rounded. As I shared with the students, it isn’t wrong to desire those results of speaking another language, but there is another side of the coin: speaking a foreign language is a great tool for serving and blessing other people. I had them think about this quote by Calvin Seerfield, describing the message we can convey by learning a foreign language, “I want to meet you, to connect and communicate with you; I want to hear your voice; I want to know what it is like to be you in your culture…To learn a different language is an act of love.” It seemed to be an eye-opener for them to view language from this perspective. For homework last night I had them write a response to what we talked about, and I’m looking forward to reading their thoughts.

Thanks for bearing with me with this long blog. It’s been a full few days, but I’m hoping that now that I’m done with orientation and beginning my job here at Uniatlántico, I’ll begin to feel a little more settled and get into the “groove.”

Adjusting...

Living in a culture that is not my own necessitates making all sorts of adjustments. Some are fairly easy: remembering to not flush the toilet paper, keeping track of zeros as I learn to think in pesos rather than dollars…Others fall in the middle of the spectrum: eating chicken hearts and gizzards, knowing whether I’m getting ripped off by taxi drivers…And some are just plain tough. The biggest choque (clash) occurs when a time-oriented, disciplined, schedule-loving American like myself decides to live in Carribbean Latin America. Here, “laid-back” takes on a whole new meaning. Arriving at 9:30 (at the earliest) for a 9:00 appointment is the norm. Cooking and serving a meal can easily be a two-hour process. And in response to my question, “So, did classes start this week?” the answer was “more or less.” [Case in point: the classes I’m teaching are beginning over a week after the start of the semester]. In addition to the slower pace of life, plans can be thrown out the window without a moment’s notice if, say, the rain turns the streets into arroyos (rivers) or workers decide to go on strike. But the costeño pace, although frustrating to me at times, makes for a friendly, lively, helpful group of people. A meal with a friend isn’t crammed into a 45-minute space in one’s schedule; relationships take priority over punctuality. It’s going to take me awhile to adapt to this facet of the culture, to be tranquila rather than stress out. I’ll begin with the fact that I just today received my class schedule, and tomorrow I have to teach my first class. Off to start planning…

Getting Oriented

I’m back “home” in Barranquilla after spending six days in Bogotá for orientation with the rest of the Colombia Fulbrighters. It was a great week: we were spoiled with a swanky hotel and three free meals a day; our meeting days were jam-packed but we also had some chances to explore Bogotá; and the highlight was spending time with the other Fulbrighters and sharing the excitement of our upcoming year.

Whereas our orientation in D.C. primarily focused on English teaching methods, this week’s seminars were geared to the context of living in Colombia. An American Embassy representative gave us a lecture on safety protocols to follow in a country where armed conflict is occurring. The Minister of Education of Colombia enlightened us on the education system and its bilingual program [apparently by the time most Colombian students graduate from high school, their English conversation skills are limited to the verb “to be.” We’ve got our jobs cut out for us]. An ex-Fulbrighter gave a talk on culture shock and adapting to Colombian customs. We heard a presentation on the demographics, food, music and festivals of the various regions of Colombia [I want to visit ALL of them!]. The Fulbright staff filled us in on the process to receive a visa and Colombian ID card, etc. etc. The days were long but we gained a lot of valuable information.

On Thursday we were given a tour of the city, which included a visit to the Gold Museum, a walking tour of the historic center and a cable-car ride up to Monserrate chapel, where we could look out on the huge capital city.

I’ll admit that when upon my first glimpses of Barranquilla, I kind of wished I could have been placed there. It’s bigger and more interesting, greener and more open, cooler, and the people speak much clearer Spanish. But over the last few days as I’ve heard and read more about Barranquilla and talked with Maureen, the other Fulbright ETA placed there, I’m really excited to be here. Everyone raves about how fun and friendly the people are and how vibrant the culture is. It’s in a great location, a short ride from Cartagena and Santa Marta. Besides, I trust that God placed me in Barranquilla for a reason, and I’m looking forward to seeing the opportunities he will provide for me here.

This Monday will be my first day at la Universidad del Atlántico—I’ll be meeting the English faculty and discussing my role. Stay tuned…

And here are a few pictures from Bogotá:

The view of Bogota from above


The cathedral in La Candelaria, Bogota's historic center


A few of us ETAs at a welcome event

Barranquilla, Baby!

Oh my gosh, I’m in Colombia! was the thought that literally woke me up this morning. It’s always exciting to travel to a new country, but it keeps blowing my mind that I’ll be living here for a year. There’s so much to learn and take in that it’s overwhelming, but I’ve got quite a bit of time to experience my new city.

The 30 hours I’ve been here have been pretty packed. Here’s a bit about my experience so far.

-Barranquilla: To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by this city. It’s hard to explain, but it’s different from any other city I’ve been in. Compared to Bucharest, Santiago, or even monstrous Mexico City, Barranquilla is hard to grasp. Instead of neat grids or major avenues, it’s a crazy network of streets. The public buses intimidate me: they all have colorful airbrush paint jobs which I guess are their distinguishing feature. They’re in questionable condition and I saw one yesterday that, I kid you not, had strobe lights inside.

-My home: I had the easiest arrival I could ask for. I was met at the airport by the family of my Colombian professor (Alexander). They dropped me off at the apartment of my host family, Gina and Omar, where Alexander and two guys from Lee (both named Michael) were there to greet me. Gina and Omar have really made me feel at home here. They have a nice little apartment with air conditioning (just in the bedrooms at night) and cold showers to relieve the Barranquilla heat.

-The food: Let me just say I’ll need to find a gym here…Colombian food is tasty but dangerous: everything is fried and carbohydrates make up 99.99999999% of the diet. They also have some delicious fruit. So far I’ve tried the lulo (which grows only in Colombia) and the granadilla (SO good!).

-The people: The Caribbean coast of Colombia is renowned for its friendly people. I experienced their hospitality before I even landed: on my flight to Barranquilla I sat next to a couple from here who gave me their number and told me to call if I needed anything while I’m here. Even the airport personnel were patient and helpful, and that’s a phenomenon in itself. As the new girl in town, I’m thankful to be in a place full of friendly, welcoming people!

The language: I had fair warning that “costeño” (coastal) Spanish is harder to understand. So far I’ve had to ask people to repeat themselves more often than not. The intonation is different, and they drop (if you want to get technical, aspirate) the “s” in many words [nosotros becomes nohotros], etc. I’m thankful I speak enough Spanish to get along fine, but I’m also humbled by how far I have to go. I agreed to speak for a few minutes in a chapel service today (yeah, someone talked me into this about an hour after I landed…I must have been too tired to protest). Anyway the first group of middle schoolers giggled and smirked through my spiel…I found out later that “um” and other fillers (“muletillas” as they’re called here) are not a linguistic universal  I guess my nervous “ums” struck the middle schoolers as hilarious.

It’s been a busy, but great, first day. I spent the morning at the school where the Michaels are volunteering this summer (the school is a partnership of Alexander’s church. Gina, my host mom, is an administrator there). Afterwards the two of them, Alexander and I ate lunch at a local restaurant, went to the bank to change money, visited Universidad del Atlántico (where I’ll be teaching)*, killed time at Juan Valdez (the Colombian version of Starbucks), walked and had dinner at the mall. I’m looking forward to my head and pillow meeting in a few minutes so that I can be rested for another full day tomorrow!

*Visiting UA was an interesting experience. I wanted to meet the faculty I’ll be working with and find out some details about my role as an English Teaching Assistant. Tracking down the contact person I’ve been corresponding with was not so straightforward. After a scavenger hunt all over campus, we finally found the right office only to be told that I should just show up on August 9 (after I return from orientation in Bogotá) and we’ll sit down with the other professors and figure it out. Alexander had warned me that Latin American universities have a very different definition of, um, organization. BUT I’m really glad I was able to visit the school, so that I’ll be able to find my way there on my own after Alexander leaves next week.

Romania

As I’m preparing to embark on a new adventure, it seems appropriate to resume blogging—not to replace face-to-face, e-mail, or phone communication, but as a way to provide updates for anyone interested.

As I look over my last few entries, I see that I haven’t mentioned that I got the news I had been waiting months for…I received the Fulbright Grant to teach English in Colombia for one year. I’ll be leaving at the end of July, and will spend the 2010-2011 schoolyear as an English Teaching Assistant at the Universidad del Atlántico in Barranquilla, Colombia. More to come on that soon.

I also had the pleasure of spending a couple of weeks in Romania. I had a great time staying with my friend, Christina, and her parents. I enjoyed being back in the familiar places I loved as a kid, in Bucharest as well as the mountains and the sea. I couldn’t access my blog to update while I was there, so I’m posting here an exerpt from my journal that I wrote on the way home:

June 10, 2010:
I’m on an airplane headed to Atlanta—strangely, it was 9 years ago to the day that we moved from Romania to America. Clear as day, I can remember journaling on that flight. Though I was slightly excited about living in America, my sadness grew as I watched the airplane on the screen leave a longer and longer red trail, signaling the increasing distance between me and the place where I’d grown up.

So much has changed since age 13, when I thought my heart would break with loneliness and homesicknss—and since age 15, when our visit to Romania sharpened the ache that had subsided in those two years of adjusting to life in the US. Now, at age 22, I’ve spent more of my years in America than I did in Romania. I’ve moved again (to college out-of-state) and developed a love for a language and region of the world distinct from Romania.

I didn’t know what to expect with this trip, but it was good for me in many ways. Even as a young kid I had a concept of culture; I knew that superstitions about drafts and cold concrete, or that you always give an odd number of flowers, or that you kiss on both cheeks were all part of being Romanian, and that we, as Americans, did things differently. But this time, I was able to see the places and people I grew up among through a different lens—more mature, thoughtful and with other experiences and cultures to compare it to. Some aspects of Romania were exactly as I remembered from childhood. Others were less familiar—I realized that even though I understood probably 90% of the words I was hearing, much of the sarcasm and humor was lost on me. As a kid living in Romania, I learned the language subconsciously and spoke it fluently. Now, as a foreign language major and aspiring English teacher , I was ultra-conscious of the language I heard, of the mistakes I made, of the similarities and differences between Romanian and Spanish, of declensions, diminutives, and reflexive verbs. I enjoyed being able to form a fresh impression of Romanian culture—to experience it for myself rather than shying away from unfamiliar people and food as I did when I was younger.

Not only did this trip help me better understand and appreciate Romania, but it is allowing me to turn the page on that chapter of life; providing closure, I guess. My childhood there greatly shaped who I am, but I no longer belong there. My family is in America, my friends are all over the world, and as far as I know, my future and purpose are elsewhere. I thoroughly enjoyed my two weeeks as a visitor, but the ache of homesickness, the longing to go back and the regret over forgetting the language are gone now. Romania will always be a huge part of me, but now I can turn my attention forward; I can be nostalgic without clinging to that past chapter.

Though the “ache” for Romania is disappearing, I know by now that life is full of transitions and changing relationships, and that’s hard. Romania, high school, college, summer programs, jobs—different stages, different relationships. I have deep bonds with family and friends all over the country and world…and here I go preparing to start over once again, this time in Colombia. Each new chapter, every adventure, is tinged with the sadness of separation from people I know and love—people who know me and love me. But my hope lies in two facts. For one thing, I’ve seen God’s faithfulness and provision time and again as he’s brought people into my life when and where I need those relationships. I know he’ll do it again in Colombia and beyond. But I know that my deep longing for permanence, constancy and enduring relationships cannot be fulfilled in this lifetime. That’s why I’m thankful to have a “hope that does not disappoint”—being a child of God. I have the comfort of knowing my Heavenly Father here and now, but I also have an inheritance of eternal life in heaven. With that truth in mind, the ache of change and the fear of an unknown future fade away. God, help me keep this truth in mind…

My Portion

Having just listened to Shane and Shane's song "My Portion," I thought I'd post a journal entry from a few months ago that refers to the same Psalm:

"For a long time, Psalm 73:25-26 has been one of my favorite verses:
'Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.'

As I read this whole psalm this morning, I understood more of it than I had before.

The author recounts a time when he lost hope in God. Seeing that evil people often experience ease and prosperity, he feels that his obedience to God is pointless:

'Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure; in vain have I washed my hands in innocence. All day long I have been plagued; I have been punished every morning.' (v. 13-14)

It really is disheartening that godly people so often suffer, and evil people are often spared. It makes the case for living however we want so that we can at least experience short-term gratification.

The author's mindset changed, though, when he 'entered the sanctuary of God; then [he] understood their final destiny' (v. 17).

The point is that walking with God--whatever the circumstances are--is worthwhile because there is much more to our lives than just this earth. Evil people will meet their destruction, and their suffering will be permanent. On the other hand, those who follow God experience a joy deeper and longer-lasting than any earthly prosperity:

'Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory' (v. 23-24).

It's at this point that the author realizes the foolishness of his doubt ('My feet had almost slipped...I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you.')

The fact is, by nature we are like senseless animals compared to God. The difference between our intelligence and wisdom and God's is immeasurable.

It's all by God's grace that we even have the capacity to understand his ways.

I am so grateful for the truth this passage highlights. Christians may seem--and feel--like we're missing out on the good things in life, and that we reap suffering for the good we do. But the truth is that because life is eternal, believers are rich. We have God, the ultimate treasure (strength, portion) both now and for eternity." (January 7, 2010)

Lessons from the YMCA

A few things I’ve learned from working with kids:

-Advertising works:
-Yogurt is just so much cooler in a tube than in a cup.
-Regular Cheez-its getting boring? Reduce the size and call them “Grips”.
-Fruit snacks must come in 100 different character shapes.
-Ritz crackers and little discs of cheese and ham are a great meal, but only if you call them “Lunchables.” Since no kid likes crust, they make “Uncrustables,” little round packaged PB&J sandwiches with no crust. I’m curious to see what other “-ables” they’ll be coming out with.

-Kids’ emotions are so exaggerated: If something is funny, kids laugh hysterically; if they get hurt, they need to go to the emergency room (but somehow, a band-aid makes it all better); if they’re happy, they bounce around. Isn’t it funny how as you grow up, you subconsciously learn to neutralize your emotions? What if we all responded like kids?!

-It’s important to have realistic expectations. It’s OK that my kindergartners have to go to the bathroom every 10 minutes. It’s normal that they can’t sit still for more than 30.

-When I’m tempted to lose my patience, I think about how much patience God has with me. I mess up everyday, but he patiently and lovingly forgives me and sets me back on the right path.

-Similarly, I’m learning to have “new mercy every morning” (Lamentations 3:23). Every once in a while, I leave work feeling completely defeated. When the kids are just plain awful and nothing goes as planned, when I have to take a group of kids to the bathroom every 5 minutes or clean up 20 spills during lunch, I feel like giving up. But thankfully, each day provides the opportunity to start fresh with my kids, a chance to rely on God for patience and unconditional love instead of depending on my own strength. I’m glad God has new mercy for me today rather than holding a grudge based on the way I failed him yesterday.

January 2010: A new year, a birthday, a job

During the month of January, the dust has settled from graduation and Christmas and the strangeness of not returning to Lee for another spring semester has begun to set in. Alongside the nostalgia and longing to be with friends, though, is the excitement of new things:

First of all, I turned 22 this month. I had the privilege of spending the few days around my birthday with Katelyn, a summer project friend from California. During her time here we reconnected with several other friends from SP who live in the Triangle.

I also got a new(ish) job this month. My boss from the YMCA where I worked in high school graciously re-hired me to work in Tracking Out programs. I’m working almost full-time, and I’m responsible for the youngest group of kids: kindergartners and first graders. I’m really thankful to have this job, especially since it was looking like substitute teaching was my only prospect. There have definitely been some challenging days—taking care of 28 five- and six-year olds is never easy—but in many ways it’s an ideal situation for me this spring.

Just yesterday I got the news that I’ve been waiting for for months: I was nominated for the Fulbright grant to Colombia…which means that I’m still in the running but won’t know the final decision for several more months. I’m really excited that I’m even being considered for the award—that in itself is an honor—but in a way it’s anticlimactic because I still can’t get my hopes up or make definite plans to be in Colombia next year.

Well, for anyone who happens to be following my blog, that’s pretty much all the news for now!