Life has been hard lately. As much as I hate that outside circumstances dictate how I live my life, they do. And the semester is winding to an end, and I have been running so hard for so long, and I am exhausted. And to top it all off, God has been showing me lately areas of my life that don't reflect his glory. And then Satan has been talking that truth, and twisting it into some inrecognizable thing that leaves me throwing up on the side of Mt Zion (the road... not the place) because I am crying so hard.
Today I got written up at my work for answering the phone while I had customers... Excellent end to an awesome morning.
I just don't really feel up for much of anything, least of all loving students, or being intentional, or doing homework. I just want to hide in a cave. Like literaly. Like Judges 6.
But here comes the angel of the Lord, and he's saying crazy stuff like "The Lord is with you" and calling me a mighty warrior. Cause, clearly, when the Lord looks down and sees someone hiding in caves and threshing wheat just to hide it from the enemy (and throwing up on the side of the road), he sees a mighty warrior.
And me and Gideon and just like, "Pardon me, my Lord, but... I'm just not good enough."
And he's like, "But I'm sending you to save lost Israel"
And we're like, "Pardon me, my Lord, but how?"
And he's like, "I will be with you"
Matthew 28:20
Acts 18:10
John 14:18
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
The concrete is cool, and the air smells green, and the trees are dark, beautiful, and even in the harsh headlights, there are reflections of God's glory, as the head lights stream through the branches and the negative shines on the brick of the houses. And the crickets and frogs, and I see a speck of light, and it's a lightning bug, and I am amazed, because I went to sleep smiling when a boy gave me pink-dyed carnations, and you made this all. (Like mud pies and holidays at the sea... I am far too easily pleased). All the wisteria that I love, pretty purple on dark green, and the bougenvilla on the porch, and the sweet williams, and the strawberries, and their little white flowers, and poppies, the heavy blooms, too much for their stems, and the opened flowers, fragile and bright. And every star. I count forty seven, but it's overcast, there are things in my way. And this is what it means to be still before the lord, to smell, and wrap in my cover, listening to the music, crickets that sound like birds, cheeping quietly. And I can't help but stand up and dance. spinning, spinning, down the hill, out of control. And when I come back inside I see a little dog, and I am overwhelmed by your sense of fun, in this pesky little runt, and how much you love me, and the silky spot on his throat and little gray whiskers under his chin, and the way he licks away tears--things you made. And when I get to my room, divine romance is playing on my laptop. And I dance again.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
My name. They cry out my name.
Crucify him, they call. Crucify
Me. And I am blood
Stained, deep red upon my hands.
Bloody bloody hands.
A murderer.
Dark and dirt and sweat and hurt
Black black
This is what I have been
This cell, it holds me in.
I feel it now. Cold
Metal in my palm.
Taste blood upon my tongue.
Soldiers come.
They lead me down
A hall. Dark and long.
I feel this death upon my shoulders
They come, shouts of crowd
Follow on their heels.
They lead me out,
To the light and loud.
Though that crowd;
My name, they call. Crucify him.
Not I but him, they hang
Upon that cross.
Not mine but his,
Hands they pierce.
My sin, God’s wrath, upon the
Son.
He took my place.
Praise the worthy lamb of God.
Praise his name. He took
My cross.
Crucify him, they call. Crucify
Me. And I am blood
Stained, deep red upon my hands.
Bloody bloody hands.
A murderer.
Dark and dirt and sweat and hurt
Black black
This is what I have been
This cell, it holds me in.
I feel it now. Cold
Metal in my palm.
Taste blood upon my tongue.
Soldiers come.
They lead me down
A hall. Dark and long.
I feel this death upon my shoulders
They come, shouts of crowd
Follow on their heels.
They lead me out,
To the light and loud.
Though that crowd;
My name, they call. Crucify him.
Not I but him, they hang
Upon that cross.
Not mine but his,
Hands they pierce.
My sin, God’s wrath, upon the
Son.
He took my place.
Praise the worthy lamb of God.
Praise his name. He took
My cross.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Dust
So I just happened to watch this video while I was scanning Kathryn's blogger profile for good blogs to read and one line really jumped out to me:
"My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth you saw my unformed body"
Now I had to think for a minute, because what the heck(k) could "depths of the earth" mean there?
I don't know if you've ever seen that Shirley Temple movie, I don't even remember which one it is, but she's like hanging out in heaven with all the kids who haven't been born yet. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that it's not truth, because, one, it's creepy, and two, it's not biblical.
But anyways, all those verses that surround it make sense and have a setting, even if the love they demonstrate is mind blowing. I could let Kelley guest write an entire blog post about how excited she got when she meditateted on the word "knit", as in "I knit you together in you mother's womb".
But this depths of the earth nonsense, what does that mean? And then I remembered that scripture is constantly reminding us that we come from dust. Example? One of my favourite psalms, 103, where it says, " As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust." So I took the scripture literaly. When you and I were a bunch of minerals spewing out of a volcano, when we were a tree decaying in a forrest, when we were the nitrogen something fixed, before we were even a cell in our mother's body, God knew us. God saw far more than the sum of our parts. He could not wait to behold us, send his son for us, send his spirit to us, so that we--made of dust--could have fellowship with mighty, everlasting God.
"My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth you saw my unformed body"
Now I had to think for a minute, because what the heck(k) could "depths of the earth" mean there?
I don't know if you've ever seen that Shirley Temple movie, I don't even remember which one it is, but she's like hanging out in heaven with all the kids who haven't been born yet. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that it's not truth, because, one, it's creepy, and two, it's not biblical.
But anyways, all those verses that surround it make sense and have a setting, even if the love they demonstrate is mind blowing. I could let Kelley guest write an entire blog post about how excited she got when she meditateted on the word "knit", as in "I knit you together in you mother's womb".
But this depths of the earth nonsense, what does that mean? And then I remembered that scripture is constantly reminding us that we come from dust. Example? One of my favourite psalms, 103, where it says, " As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust." So I took the scripture literaly. When you and I were a bunch of minerals spewing out of a volcano, when we were a tree decaying in a forrest, when we were the nitrogen something fixed, before we were even a cell in our mother's body, God knew us. God saw far more than the sum of our parts. He could not wait to behold us, send his son for us, send his spirit to us, so that we--made of dust--could have fellowship with mighty, everlasting God.
Monday, August 1, 2011
More pictures
These are just some random pictures that I love that didn't make it onto my mega post.
Our favourite resturant, Deli Jasmine.
These are the stray dogs I talked about
A very beautiful sunset, as seen from our balcony.
I love this picture. They were watching the other kids dance. El Barranco was very traditional; it was the only place where some of the boys wore traje too, with their little skirts, over their colourful pants.
This is me and Jasmine, from Tierra Linda, while she waited to be checked out by Amy.
I don't know why I love this picture. It was as the kids were walking home from Tierra Linda. Hannah gave her an oreo.
These are the stray dogs I talked about
A very beautiful sunset, as seen from our balcony.
I love this picture. They were watching the other kids dance. El Barranco was very traditional; it was the only place where some of the boys wore traje too, with their little skirts, over their colourful pants.
This is me and Jasmine, from Tierra Linda, while she waited to be checked out by Amy.
I don't know why I love this picture. It was as the kids were walking home from Tierra Linda. Hannah gave her an oreo.Part Two
Warning: This is part two of my last post. You'll be confused if you don't read that one first.
His brother vv
Wednesday we visited Tierra Linda, and I fell in love. I mostly helped Amy, a nurse practicioner, with her little corner clinic. My buddy Oscar sat next to us the whole time. It wasn't even his turn to see Amy until like fifth till last. Jasmine sat in my lap, and held my hand, and I wanted to take her home. Jessica was so smart and such a little mother. She was great.
Here is a map I was looking at this morning, when I decided to finally do this post. If anyone is really interested, they can follow along with me and my travels. It's so weird, because this map is already familiar to me, I know it by heart like I do the farm, and so it's weird to think that you don't know it too. That delta is so clearly pana, with it's big gravely stream, and I've seen the place where the two mountains close in, almost touching across the water, from landscape view, and not just google-maps. I bought a painting at that balloon, and little kids chased our pick up at that one (San Pedro and Santa Catarina, respectively, if you're interested).
^Jasmine
^ Oscar
I plan on writing a seperate post about Olga. So, it will suffice to say, after lunch we visited Rosalyn friend Jody's sponsored student's house. Afterwards, there was a going away party for us and a big group, and Joe and Amy, and a temporary staff member Christina, slash triple birthday party for some random students/staffers. Here is the Mayan Families staff. Little Aleeya is on the far right.
Saturday morning we went out on a boat with all of our favourite voulenteers and visited two little lakeside villages. San Pedro was very artsy, with walk in textile shops, and lots of art galleries. Santa Cruz was quiet, with all the adults hidden away at business hours, and just about nothing for tourists. There was a beautiful little walk way back down to the lake from the city. I got too many beautiful pictures from Santa Cruz to put them all on here, but here are a few highlights.
Here are many of the friends we made on the trip. Laiken, my aunt, and Rita, an high school english teacher, the next row is Rosalyn, my dad's step-mom, and Ana, turned around. Ana's mom in the one in a grey shirt, this was their third trip to voulenteer with Mayan Families, and they were very sweet. Ana wants to be a doctor too. The last row is Joe and Amy, my very favourite people. Joe was easy-going, and quick to laugh. He teaches high school english, too, and teaches english to migrant workers during the summer. Amy is a nurse practicioner, and very much a mom. I absolutely studied the way she treated the students she examined, calling the girls princesses, and shaking all of their hands. Not pictured are Tan Mei (aka Tye Dye) who is a kindergarten teacher from Canada, and Patro (aka Pato, if you speak spanish, you know why that's funny) who is a wanderer/Rice university mathematician from Mexico and Soleil, a high schooler visiting Sharon's family from California, who looks just like Claire Danes.
After the boat, we said good bye to Sharon and Aleeya at the office, then rode back to Guatemala City. We stayed in a pretty but normal hotel, ate room service, and flew home in the morning. I thought it was ironic, I didn't get sick once while we were there, but as soon as I got to Atlanta, I felt like crap.
It's funny, but I can imagine myself moving there alot easier than moving to some other part of the states. I can't see myself living in Pana, with everyone out to sell a souvenieer to a tourist. But I can completely imagine myself living in Tierra Linda, or sleepy little Santa Cruz, loving on the kids who play basketball in front of the church after school.
After lunch we went to San Antonio to their after-school program to drop off food. We were only there a few minutes, but the view of the lake was breath taking. Pictures don't do it justice.
That night, before we went to dinner, Rosalyn gave me a card. I thought it was from her. I ended up reading it as we walked to the resturant. It was from my parents. It had a Joel Osteen quote on the front--obviously picked out by my dad, who I get in fights with about Joel all the time--but it had Matthew 6:21 inside, where your treasure is, there your heart will also be, and a note from my mom, telling me she hoped I realized all my dreams. It was a really cool moment; almost like my parents saying, even though we don't completely understand what you want to do with you life, we love you and we support you, even if it's a little dangerous, or you won't be able to come home on the weekends, or you won't have much money, and that we love you, even when you're way over there.
Tuesday was San Antonio, at a little pre-school in a compound built by a Methodist minister. I brought side walk chalk, which was alot of fun, and gained a little shadow, Christain. We got to tour the little clinic, and it was unbelieveably exciting for me to see their pharmacy, with neat rows of anti-biotics next to over the counter pain killers, and kids' chewable vitamins. Everything was clean and bright. Afterwards, we spent the afternoon at the office, where my shadow showed up with his little brother, and I met Blanca, a wonderful 10 year old who I got to see around a few times throught the week.
My shadow ^^ vv
Here is a map I was looking at this morning, when I decided to finally do this post. If anyone is really interested, they can follow along with me and my travels. It's so weird, because this map is already familiar to me, I know it by heart like I do the farm, and so it's weird to think that you don't know it too. That delta is so clearly pana, with it's big gravely stream, and I've seen the place where the two mountains close in, almost touching across the water, from landscape view, and not just google-maps. I bought a painting at that balloon, and little kids chased our pick up at that one (San Pedro and Santa Catarina, respectively, if you're interested).
^Jessica (how bout them Norse?)
Tierra Linda had my favourite kids, but, heartbreakingly, it also had alot of sick kids. The majority of the students had internal parasites, with bloated little bellies and skinny arms and legs. And half of them had their shoes on the wrong feet, and I would take them off and fix them after we weiged them, putting their dirty sockless feet into the right shoe.
That afternoon, I helped Amy out at Mayan Families by sorting huge garbage bags full of medicines while she ran a table-top clinic and helped whoever was around to be helped. It was very cool.
Thursday morning we went to Tierra Linda again, this time to pass out clothes. Jessica's little sister, who had been terrified and sobbing the day before, finally smiled. Here she is, holding her old shoes. She wasn't happy to take them off, since they were sparkly and pink. Here she is:
As we drove away, I saw Oscar running out of his house. He had already changed into his new shirt. So cute.
After, we went to El Barranco, where they did traditional dances for us. If you look on facebook and see stuffed armadillos, that's why. I got bored watching and went inside to color with kiddos instead. They all kept coming to where I was sitting, proudly showing me their pictures, until I told them how beautiful they were. Afterwards, they passed out clothes to everyone while we ate lunch. Finally, we just hung out. I had a frisbee in my back pack, so I taught them how to throw it, and we played toss. Then we ended up teachign them how to play duck duck monkey--I couldn't remember how to
say goose :)
Friday, we headed back up to San Andres to meet sponsor students. Rosalyn's student's name is Rosa, and that is where hippo finally found a home. Her mom told us that she loves to go to school, and if she's sick, she'll say I'm better I'm better, hoping to be allowed to go. While we were waiting through Amy and Joe's visit, we passed out our remaining stuffed animals.
I plan on writing a seperate post about Olga. So, it will suffice to say, after lunch we visited Rosalyn friend Jody's sponsored student's house. Afterwards, there was a going away party for us and a big group, and Joe and Amy, and a temporary staff member Christina, slash triple birthday party for some random students/staffers. Here is the Mayan Families staff. Little Aleeya is on the far right.
Saturday morning we went out on a boat with all of our favourite voulenteers and visited two little lakeside villages. San Pedro was very artsy, with walk in textile shops, and lots of art galleries. Santa Cruz was quiet, with all the adults hidden away at business hours, and just about nothing for tourists. There was a beautiful little walk way back down to the lake from the city. I got too many beautiful pictures from Santa Cruz to put them all on here, but here are a few highlights.
^San Pedro
^Santa Cruz
Here are many of the friends we made on the trip. Laiken, my aunt, and Rita, an high school english teacher, the next row is Rosalyn, my dad's step-mom, and Ana, turned around. Ana's mom in the one in a grey shirt, this was their third trip to voulenteer with Mayan Families, and they were very sweet. Ana wants to be a doctor too. The last row is Joe and Amy, my very favourite people. Joe was easy-going, and quick to laugh. He teaches high school english, too, and teaches english to migrant workers during the summer. Amy is a nurse practicioner, and very much a mom. I absolutely studied the way she treated the students she examined, calling the girls princesses, and shaking all of their hands. Not pictured are Tan Mei (aka Tye Dye) who is a kindergarten teacher from Canada, and Patro (aka Pato, if you speak spanish, you know why that's funny) who is a wanderer/Rice university mathematician from Mexico and Soleil, a high schooler visiting Sharon's family from California, who looks just like Claire Danes.
After the boat, we said good bye to Sharon and Aleeya at the office, then rode back to Guatemala City. We stayed in a pretty but normal hotel, ate room service, and flew home in the morning. I thought it was ironic, I didn't get sick once while we were there, but as soon as I got to Atlanta, I felt like crap.
The place where the rainbow gets its color
I've been asked how my trip was about a thousand times, and I just don't know how to answer because, more than any other adjective, Guatemala was just alot. I honestly don't expect everyone to read all of this. It's mostly just an opportunity to get most of my thoughts out. And also, because I hate the idea of putting my pictures on facebook, where the faces and villages don't have names or stories.
I started my trip by going to a place that I knew by heart but hadn't seen in 6 years, hadn't seen since the last night that it belonged to my Papal, the night before he died, and now it belonged to the woman who I had unquestionably loved as a little girl, until I knew that she was kind of a home wrecker to a woman with 8 kids, and hadn't really wanted us in her and Kenneth's world. We picked them up--my almost-grandma and orphan-aunt--up from that little log cabin, and if I thought I remembered the drive there, and the limestone walls, and the gravel-drive-hill, I knew the smell in the house even better, and big leather furniture was the same, and the book case with decoy ducks, and the fishing lures by the window, all exactly as I remembered, even if a third of my lifetime had passed between visits. It felt empty without him.
The day of travel wore on in that bizarre way days do when you don't sleep. I started at home at about 1 am, ate Burger King for lunch in the back of a van in a capitol on mountain tops without sky scrapers at about noon, and had dinner at an Italian restaurant, of all places, in Panajachel, Solela, Guatemala at 8. Our little apartment-hotel was homey and comfortable, with spanish-speaking-artist-covered-walls and beautiful carpentry and three twin beds. The city itself was touristy, with normal international restaurants--mexican, or italian, or oriental, and street vendors who set up their little stalls every morning. There were sleepy stray dogs that hid under overhangs on rainy days, and wandered into restaurants (public places--corner drug stores, and little shops, and restaurants--didn't have doors, just garage doors that were slid shut at night, and the strays just waltzed right in).
^^ Milagro del Lago (miracle of the lake) nick-named Casa Alegre (happy house), aka our hotel
vv view from our balcony, I'm not sure how to rotate them
We had wandered down to Mayan Families' offices before dinner. There was a little ranch turned office, desks and more desks crammed into every of 5 small rooms. To the right of the office was a little building, small storage rooms on each side, but open and roofed in the middle with a ton of plastic chairs and fold up tables, where people congregated daily for different odd tasks--volunteers sorting clothing donations, or women wearing traditional traje, their kiddos strapped to their backs, coming by to pick up medicine, or sponsor students writing letters to their sponsors. Even more kiddos, and several adopted dogs, ran around the yard, where there was playground equipment, bicycles, hula-hoops, and a beautiful but diseased old eucalyptus tree. We met Aleeya--the director Sharon's daughter--there that first day, and made fast friends with the lovable little girl with convoluted grammar from speaking two languages.
Friday we started volunteering. We helped the pana pre-schoolers walk from their classroom to a telethon they were dancing in to raise money for disabled kids. The people talking on stage spoke in rapid-fire, loud spanish, and it made me tired to try to listen, so I didn't. Instead I let the little girl in front of me play with my camera. If you look at my pictures of facebook, you'll be able to see which pictures these ones are :)
That afternoon we met many of the people there on a mission trip, and my loneliness sparked a little, because they all knew each other well, and laughed and joked. We ended up going out to lunch with them, and then being invited to their good-bye dinner at Sharon's beautiful cobble-stone house.
Saturday we spent at a nature preserve, were we met the coolest tree in the entire universe, and walked adventurously across rope bridges by huge waterfalls, like Indiana Jones, and finally zip lined.
Sunday we went to Chichi for their famous marked, but it was crowded, and over priced, and we left quickly and spent a lazy evening at out hotel.
Me and Rosalyn went out to eat with out Laiken that night and she told me all her fears for Laiken, and about how badly she wanted friends, and how she was just so forceful she scared boys away, and about how thankful she was that I had accepted her daughter, and her constant petting, and snapping of awful pictures, and awkward boy questions (When she asked me who I was texting in Atlanta, I unfortunately told her the truth--Alex--and so I spent the rest of the week hedging questions like "When you get married to your little friend, will I be invited?" and "What kind of present are you going to bring your little friend home?")
The truth of the matter was, I myself wanted to run away from her the first time she pulled my hair down from a pony tail without asking and started braiding it, and very quickly into the trip I just wanted to shut myself up in a room and do no more volunteering, and no more loving Laiken, and just no more selfless in general.
And being away from community was hard. It was hard when I was only gone for a weekend in January, and it was even harder when I wasn't with a single person who has seen the day-to-day me. When people would ask me what I do at home and I would say I volunteered with special needs kids, and I would hear Rosalyn telling other people how great I was, how selfless, and it was so easy to make myself this perfect person, with no one there to call me out for being unreal, to point out my flaws, and no one there to remind me that the only reason I am the way I am, and I do what I do, is because of Christ, and what he has done for me. And it was just so easy to get along with out Christ there, which was surprising to me. It is not possible for me to get through a single club without completely relying on the spirit, but in Pana, I could wake up in the morning, and play with kiddos, and help at the office, all without acknowledging God at all. And without anyone there to call me out, that is what I ended up doing for days on end. But it was so lonely, and so fake, and I hated it, but I was just to lazy or too stubborn, or too something to fix it by just calling on Christ.
I don't know if you even feel like this, but I just feel like God is pressing in. If you've ever read Blue Like Jazz, it's kind of like what happens to Penny. My mind almost sees my brokenness on this whole new level, and I feel kind of lonely and trapped, and just awful, and I know that God would fix it, but I don't know how to make my heart go there. I have felt like this since leader weekend, where God pressed James 4 on my heart, the same scripture that Eric read Friday, even though I was reading through Hebrews at the time
1 What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? 2 You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God. 3 When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.
4 You adulterous people,[a] don’t you know that friendship with the world means enmity against God? Therefore, anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God. 5 Or do you think Scripture says without reason that he jealously longs for the spirit he has caused to dwell in us[b]? 6 But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says:
“God opposes the proud
but shows favor to the humble.”[c]
7 Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. 8 Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. 9 Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. 10 Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.
And that's the answer: come near to God and he will come near to you... grieve mourn and wail. But I don't know how to do that with a sincere heart. I don't know how. And all these feelings were particularly poignant while I was lonely and without my mommy.
But anyway, there were good parts too. On Monday, my 19th birthday, we set out for our first real day of volunteering. We went to San Jorge, a little town away from the lake, in the back of a pick up. We visited the pre-school there. We read to kiddos, and drew with them, and played a group guessing game where we sang a song like this "Chucco chucco y su hueso, lo robaron y donde robaron, puesto!" which means, basically, puppy dog, puppy dog, and your bone, we stole it, and where did we put it. At the end of the day the teacher had the class give me a birthday hug; thirty little pre-schoolers got in line and game me a hug, about five at a time. one little girl kissed my cheek. Unfortunately I wasn't able to take pictures of the hug, but here are some other ones.
I started my trip by going to a place that I knew by heart but hadn't seen in 6 years, hadn't seen since the last night that it belonged to my Papal, the night before he died, and now it belonged to the woman who I had unquestionably loved as a little girl, until I knew that she was kind of a home wrecker to a woman with 8 kids, and hadn't really wanted us in her and Kenneth's world. We picked them up--my almost-grandma and orphan-aunt--up from that little log cabin, and if I thought I remembered the drive there, and the limestone walls, and the gravel-drive-hill, I knew the smell in the house even better, and big leather furniture was the same, and the book case with decoy ducks, and the fishing lures by the window, all exactly as I remembered, even if a third of my lifetime had passed between visits. It felt empty without him.
The day of travel wore on in that bizarre way days do when you don't sleep. I started at home at about 1 am, ate Burger King for lunch in the back of a van in a capitol on mountain tops without sky scrapers at about noon, and had dinner at an Italian restaurant, of all places, in Panajachel, Solela, Guatemala at 8. Our little apartment-hotel was homey and comfortable, with spanish-speaking-artist-covered-walls and beautiful carpentry and three twin beds. The city itself was touristy, with normal international restaurants--mexican, or italian, or oriental, and street vendors who set up their little stalls every morning. There were sleepy stray dogs that hid under overhangs on rainy days, and wandered into restaurants (public places--corner drug stores, and little shops, and restaurants--didn't have doors, just garage doors that were slid shut at night, and the strays just waltzed right in).
vv view from our balcony, I'm not sure how to rotate them
We had wandered down to Mayan Families' offices before dinner. There was a little ranch turned office, desks and more desks crammed into every of 5 small rooms. To the right of the office was a little building, small storage rooms on each side, but open and roofed in the middle with a ton of plastic chairs and fold up tables, where people congregated daily for different odd tasks--volunteers sorting clothing donations, or women wearing traditional traje, their kiddos strapped to their backs, coming by to pick up medicine, or sponsor students writing letters to their sponsors. Even more kiddos, and several adopted dogs, ran around the yard, where there was playground equipment, bicycles, hula-hoops, and a beautiful but diseased old eucalyptus tree. We met Aleeya--the director Sharon's daughter--there that first day, and made fast friends with the lovable little girl with convoluted grammar from speaking two languages.
That afternoon we met many of the people there on a mission trip, and my loneliness sparked a little, because they all knew each other well, and laughed and joked. We ended up going out to lunch with them, and then being invited to their good-bye dinner at Sharon's beautiful cobble-stone house.
Saturday we spent at a nature preserve, were we met the coolest tree in the entire universe, and walked adventurously across rope bridges by huge waterfalls, like Indiana Jones, and finally zip lined.
Me and Rosalyn went out to eat with out Laiken that night and she told me all her fears for Laiken, and about how badly she wanted friends, and how she was just so forceful she scared boys away, and about how thankful she was that I had accepted her daughter, and her constant petting, and snapping of awful pictures, and awkward boy questions (When she asked me who I was texting in Atlanta, I unfortunately told her the truth--Alex--and so I spent the rest of the week hedging questions like "When you get married to your little friend, will I be invited?" and "What kind of present are you going to bring your little friend home?")
The truth of the matter was, I myself wanted to run away from her the first time she pulled my hair down from a pony tail without asking and started braiding it, and very quickly into the trip I just wanted to shut myself up in a room and do no more volunteering, and no more loving Laiken, and just no more selfless in general.
And being away from community was hard. It was hard when I was only gone for a weekend in January, and it was even harder when I wasn't with a single person who has seen the day-to-day me. When people would ask me what I do at home and I would say I volunteered with special needs kids, and I would hear Rosalyn telling other people how great I was, how selfless, and it was so easy to make myself this perfect person, with no one there to call me out for being unreal, to point out my flaws, and no one there to remind me that the only reason I am the way I am, and I do what I do, is because of Christ, and what he has done for me. And it was just so easy to get along with out Christ there, which was surprising to me. It is not possible for me to get through a single club without completely relying on the spirit, but in Pana, I could wake up in the morning, and play with kiddos, and help at the office, all without acknowledging God at all. And without anyone there to call me out, that is what I ended up doing for days on end. But it was so lonely, and so fake, and I hated it, but I was just to lazy or too stubborn, or too something to fix it by just calling on Christ.
I don't know if you even feel like this, but I just feel like God is pressing in. If you've ever read Blue Like Jazz, it's kind of like what happens to Penny. My mind almost sees my brokenness on this whole new level, and I feel kind of lonely and trapped, and just awful, and I know that God would fix it, but I don't know how to make my heart go there. I have felt like this since leader weekend, where God pressed James 4 on my heart, the same scripture that Eric read Friday, even though I was reading through Hebrews at the time
1 What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? 2 You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God. 3 When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.
4 You adulterous people,[a] don’t you know that friendship with the world means enmity against God? Therefore, anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God. 5 Or do you think Scripture says without reason that he jealously longs for the spirit he has caused to dwell in us[b]? 6 But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says:
“God opposes the proud
but shows favor to the humble.”[c]
7 Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. 8 Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. 9 Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. 10 Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.
And that's the answer: come near to God and he will come near to you... grieve mourn and wail. But I don't know how to do that with a sincere heart. I don't know how. And all these feelings were particularly poignant while I was lonely and without my mommy.
But anyway, there were good parts too. On Monday, my 19th birthday, we set out for our first real day of volunteering. We went to San Jorge, a little town away from the lake, in the back of a pick up. We visited the pre-school there. We read to kiddos, and drew with them, and played a group guessing game where we sang a song like this "Chucco chucco y su hueso, lo robaron y donde robaron, puesto!" which means, basically, puppy dog, puppy dog, and your bone, we stole it, and where did we put it. At the end of the day the teacher had the class give me a birthday hug; thirty little pre-schoolers got in line and game me a hug, about five at a time. one little girl kissed my cheek. Unfortunately I wasn't able to take pictures of the hug, but here are some other ones.
After that we visted the elderly feeding program next door, but we were too many to help, so we ended up playing with some little kids on the street outside. I couldn't resist their giggles, as they ran up this side way and tried to see who could make it. So I joined in, and a ton of kids heard us making a ton of noise and joined in too. Here they are:
I'm ending this post here, in an akward spot, because blogspot is no longer cooperating. However I am by no means done.
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