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)
"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.
-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!
Post-graduation Reflections
I thought now would be a good time to update my blog because I’ve certainly been doing a lot of “looking forward.” Actually, a lot of “looking back,” too.
Graduating from college is a strange feeling. My whole life I’ve had some idea of what to expect the next month, semester or year. I remember how tumultuous my senior year of high school seemed as I filled out applications and agonized over where I should go to college. But at least I knew I’d be going to college, and that I’d adjust to that new stage of life sooner or later. But turning over my Lee University tassel ushered in a phase of infinitely greater uncertainty. My future is wide open and I have no idea what the next few months and year hold for me.
As I’m processing the fact that I won’t be returning to Lee, I’ve spent time reading through my journals that I wrote in college. I’ve really enjoyed remembering in detail the many ups and downs I experienced, and my gratitude grew for the countless ways God provided for me and helped me grow—as a Christian, as a daughter, as a roommate, as a friend, and as a leader.
Though it’s beneficial to look back on my college years and reflect on God’s goodness, it’s easy to get stuck longing for the friendships and familiarity of college. I’ve always been good at looking forward and making plans, but lately I’ve been consumed by all of the uncertainties the future holds. I’m discovering how hard it is to live in the present. To be honest, I really don’t know what to do with myself. Living at home is entirely different from visiting home on breaks. I’ve enjoyed having time to relax and see friends and family, but I can’t stay in vacation mode if I’m going to live here for a few months. Moving anywhere is difficult, and it takes time to find a job, to get involved in a church, to build relationships, and to find ways to serve. I had to do that three and a half years ago when I moved to Cleveland, but Lee University made all of that pretty easy for me. This time, not only do I not have an automatic, ready-made community, but the question of “What’s next?” is always on the horizon, influencing my ability to put down roots here. Even if I stay in the Triangle area after this semester, this is a transitional period—I’m living at home and substitute teaching. Next fall I could be in a different city, state, or even country—so it’s hard to fully invest in people and activities when I may have to do it all over again soon. I feel paralyzed by my lack of clarity.
Though I don’t know how long I’ll be here or what to do with myself while I’m here, what I long for is to gain from this time whatever God has in store. I don’t want to waste this period because I’m consumed by questions or worries. Maybe this loneliness and uncertainty will prompt a period of intense growth like the year after we moved from Romania. If so, I welcome it with open arms. Maybe it will be a time to learn to walk by faith and not by sight, trusting in God’s planning instead of my own. I don’t know.
One thing I do know is God’s sovereignty is the only thing I can stake my life on.
“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to an all-knowing God”
(Martin Luther)
Graduating from college is a strange feeling. My whole life I’ve had some idea of what to expect the next month, semester or year. I remember how tumultuous my senior year of high school seemed as I filled out applications and agonized over where I should go to college. But at least I knew I’d be going to college, and that I’d adjust to that new stage of life sooner or later. But turning over my Lee University tassel ushered in a phase of infinitely greater uncertainty. My future is wide open and I have no idea what the next few months and year hold for me.
As I’m processing the fact that I won’t be returning to Lee, I’ve spent time reading through my journals that I wrote in college. I’ve really enjoyed remembering in detail the many ups and downs I experienced, and my gratitude grew for the countless ways God provided for me and helped me grow—as a Christian, as a daughter, as a roommate, as a friend, and as a leader.
Though it’s beneficial to look back on my college years and reflect on God’s goodness, it’s easy to get stuck longing for the friendships and familiarity of college. I’ve always been good at looking forward and making plans, but lately I’ve been consumed by all of the uncertainties the future holds. I’m discovering how hard it is to live in the present. To be honest, I really don’t know what to do with myself. Living at home is entirely different from visiting home on breaks. I’ve enjoyed having time to relax and see friends and family, but I can’t stay in vacation mode if I’m going to live here for a few months. Moving anywhere is difficult, and it takes time to find a job, to get involved in a church, to build relationships, and to find ways to serve. I had to do that three and a half years ago when I moved to Cleveland, but Lee University made all of that pretty easy for me. This time, not only do I not have an automatic, ready-made community, but the question of “What’s next?” is always on the horizon, influencing my ability to put down roots here. Even if I stay in the Triangle area after this semester, this is a transitional period—I’m living at home and substitute teaching. Next fall I could be in a different city, state, or even country—so it’s hard to fully invest in people and activities when I may have to do it all over again soon. I feel paralyzed by my lack of clarity.
Though I don’t know how long I’ll be here or what to do with myself while I’m here, what I long for is to gain from this time whatever God has in store. I don’t want to waste this period because I’m consumed by questions or worries. Maybe this loneliness and uncertainty will prompt a period of intense growth like the year after we moved from Romania. If so, I welcome it with open arms. Maybe it will be a time to learn to walk by faith and not by sight, trusting in God’s planning instead of my own. I don’t know.
One thing I do know is God’s sovereignty is the only thing I can stake my life on.
“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to an all-knowing God”
(Martin Luther)
A picture summary
A view of Mexico City
Dad and I at UNAM
Making friendship bracelets with Karla
My host family and I
Tortillas, the essence of Mexico
Teaching the intermediate class
Me+my classmates+Kelli, on of our tutors (not sure where Richard is)
Teotihuacan
The Close of a Chapter...
This time tomorrow I’ll be on a plane to North Carolina. I’m soooooo ready.
On Friday I successfully finished CELTA, and what a relief that was! I’ve never felt such a sense of accomplishment and success after completing a course. And what I gained from it is so worth all of the stress!
The last few days I’ve been wrapping up my time here, hitting the last couple sights and saying my good-byes. On Saturday I went to Teotihuacan with three classmates. About an hour north of Mexico City, Teotihuacan is a pre-Aztec civilization, famous for its two gigantic pyramids, the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. It really was an incredible sight—the vastness of the pyramids, the striking view of the Avenue of the Dead leading up to them, and just the thought of the centuries this complex has been here.
On Saturday evening I went home, said good-bye to my host family, and took a taxi to the Sassers’ house for my last few nights. They left to go to the States yesterday so I’ve got a couple of days here by myself.
Yesterday after church Tim and I did some souvenir shopping at a huge artesanía market. Afterwards we headed back to the neighborhood of our school (we just can’t stay away, apparently), attended a Catholic mass on a whim, then had dinner at Daša’s (one of our classmate’s) apartments.
Today I had the morning to myself—quiet time on the roof, a quick trip to the grocery store, then lunch. In the afternoon I met up with Jaaziel—we had some delicious crepes in Condesa (once again, the neighborhood where I went to class). We randomly ran into Tim and Leti (a student from the English class we taught) in a park there. From there the three of us met up with Abby (a classmate—who by the way already got hired by International House and started teaching English today!) for coffee and to say goodbye. Then I got caught in a lovely downpour with no umbrella, once again chose the wrong exit from the metro and had to walk around a million street vendors and through mucky puddles before finding the right bus to get me home. Now here I am—my stuff is packed and I’m ready to get on that plane tomorrow!
I’m so glad I’ve had this experience of living in Mexico City for 5 weeks. Each week was different, with its own highs and lows, but I can look back on this summer and see God’s faithfulness and wisdom:
Week 1: A great time with my dad and the chance to see Karla (my World Vision girl) for the second time.
Week 2: A rough week as I had so many new experiences to deal with “alone”—but a poignant reminder that God is my strength and portion; weakness and vulnerability led me to depend on him.
Week 3: A great week of making more friends, loving my classes, and having an in-depth God conversation with a classmate.
Week 4: The third and most difficult week of class, got robbed on the metrobus, began feeling ready to come home. But another opportunity to trust in the Lord and not in stuff and to thank him for all that I have.
Week 5: Wrapping things up at school and thinking a lot about post-graduation options; gaining experience and qualification in TESOL and finding out more about employability has given me a lot to process. We’ll see what God has in store for after the fast-approaching end of college.
If you’ve been keeping up with my blog this summer, I appreciate it! I’m so excited about seeing all of you soon!
On Friday I successfully finished CELTA, and what a relief that was! I’ve never felt such a sense of accomplishment and success after completing a course. And what I gained from it is so worth all of the stress!
The last few days I’ve been wrapping up my time here, hitting the last couple sights and saying my good-byes. On Saturday I went to Teotihuacan with three classmates. About an hour north of Mexico City, Teotihuacan is a pre-Aztec civilization, famous for its two gigantic pyramids, the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. It really was an incredible sight—the vastness of the pyramids, the striking view of the Avenue of the Dead leading up to them, and just the thought of the centuries this complex has been here.
On Saturday evening I went home, said good-bye to my host family, and took a taxi to the Sassers’ house for my last few nights. They left to go to the States yesterday so I’ve got a couple of days here by myself.
Yesterday after church Tim and I did some souvenir shopping at a huge artesanía market. Afterwards we headed back to the neighborhood of our school (we just can’t stay away, apparently), attended a Catholic mass on a whim, then had dinner at Daša’s (one of our classmate’s) apartments.
Today I had the morning to myself—quiet time on the roof, a quick trip to the grocery store, then lunch. In the afternoon I met up with Jaaziel—we had some delicious crepes in Condesa (once again, the neighborhood where I went to class). We randomly ran into Tim and Leti (a student from the English class we taught) in a park there. From there the three of us met up with Abby (a classmate—who by the way already got hired by International House and started teaching English today!) for coffee and to say goodbye. Then I got caught in a lovely downpour with no umbrella, once again chose the wrong exit from the metro and had to walk around a million street vendors and through mucky puddles before finding the right bus to get me home. Now here I am—my stuff is packed and I’m ready to get on that plane tomorrow!
I’m so glad I’ve had this experience of living in Mexico City for 5 weeks. Each week was different, with its own highs and lows, but I can look back on this summer and see God’s faithfulness and wisdom:
Week 1: A great time with my dad and the chance to see Karla (my World Vision girl) for the second time.
Week 2: A rough week as I had so many new experiences to deal with “alone”—but a poignant reminder that God is my strength and portion; weakness and vulnerability led me to depend on him.
Week 3: A great week of making more friends, loving my classes, and having an in-depth God conversation with a classmate.
Week 4: The third and most difficult week of class, got robbed on the metrobus, began feeling ready to come home. But another opportunity to trust in the Lord and not in stuff and to thank him for all that I have.
Week 5: Wrapping things up at school and thinking a lot about post-graduation options; gaining experience and qualification in TESOL and finding out more about employability has given me a lot to process. We’ll see what God has in store for after the fast-approaching end of college.
If you’ve been keeping up with my blog this summer, I appreciate it! I’m so excited about seeing all of you soon!
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