Today was the opening game of the 2010 World Cup--between Mexico and South Africa. Naturally, being in Mexico, it was a game to watch. I came to school, took my test (that our professor rushed us through), and went to watch the game that they were showing on campus. There is nothing like taking in a soccer game in another country while that country´s team is playing. While it is not so much the case in the US, soccer is massively important to the majority of the world. It always excites me to see how people come together to watch the game, donning their country´s colors and cheering extravagantly. Today was no exception, and although the game resulted in a tie, I did have the joy of watching Mexicans celebrate whenever their team scored. Watching the game really made me miss playing. There is nothing like the adrenaline rush that comes when the ball is barrelling down the field in your direction.
It is amazing how soccer unites the world. Although it´s only a game, it stands for so much more to people in other countries. It´s a matter of national pride and solidarity. While I did enjoy the game today, I can´t help but cheer for my own home--Honduras. They play on June 16, and I am utterly thrilled that I will be there, wearing my jersey, to watch the game with all my catrachos.
Meanwhile, today has been a very good last day. I got hugs from both of my Maggies and yet another lecture from Daniel about how Leigh Ann and I are boring because we never go out. I hope to stay in touch with people that I´ve met during this experience. And, as is the case with Jamaica, I carry a piece of Mexico with me and hope to return some day. It truly is a beautiful country with lovely people.
And tomorrow, it is off to Honduras! I can´t even contain myself. I don´t think it has truly hit me yet that I am returning to my home after nearly a year of absence. Everything in terms of what will transpire when I get there, what God wants to teach me, etc. is a veiled mystery, but one that I welcome with open arms. I will leave Coco´s house tomorrow at 5 AM by taxi, and I will arrive at the Mexico City airport aound 7. My flight leaves at 9. I have a 48 minute (yikes!) layover in Guatemala where I will change carriers. Finally, I am supposed to arrive in Honduras by noon where Roy will pick me up from the airport. Who knows if all of this will actually go as planned? Yet, I know that God is in control of it all, so I will get there when I get there. Prayers for safe travels for me and Leigh Ann both are greatly appreciated.
Thanks for reading of my adventures and lessons thus far in the journey. Once I get to Honduras, it is likely that internet access will be much more limited, so I have no real concept of how often I´ll be able to update. But, I will do my best!
Viva México (but home to Honduras),
Sarah
Friday, June 11, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Soledad
Hello All,
Well, it has been a while since I last posted, so I should probably give you an update on some of our excursions. As a means of celebrating our last week and also for the purpose of trying food outside of our host house, Leigh Ann and I went on Tuesday to the centro to eat at La India Bonita, a very Mexican restaurant with a beautiful environment and phenomenal food. We decided to share some guacamole, and I can say without a doubt that it was the best I've ever had. They also brought us some delicious rolls that were baked with cream cheese inside. For dinner, Leigh Ann ate chile relleno which looked very good, and I had their typical dish that included all the Mexican signatures--steak, beans, rice, fried plantains, a chicken enchilada with mole, and a chicken enchilada verde. Everything was so delicious! I always have a hard time remembering what to order when it comes to drinks because nonalcoholic drinks are often unlisted, so when Leigh Ann ordered tea, I did as well. It came with ice, and I made a joking comment about whether or not the ice would be safe (after I'd already downed a glass, of course). Well, while I was fine and didn't get sick at all, the result for Leigh Ann wasn't quite as harmless. I suppose I have built up an iron stomach over the past couple years. Following our restaurant adventure, we walked around the centro so that Leigh Ann could buy some things and then took a taxi home.
Yesterday, Leigh Ann and I went to Tepoatzlan, a little town not too far from Cuernavaca that has a pyramid in the mountains. Apparently, the climb to the pyramid is a beast for the conquering, but we were quite tired and, thus, opted to stay in the little town exploring the market and eating odd flavors of nieves (more or less ice cream). We first toured a church and an ex-convent though. The ex-convent for Franciscan monks has to have been the most peaceful building I think I've ever encountered. It was free of furniture and the architecture played with light and sound in a beautiful way. Simplicity is an astounding beauty. After the church, we ventured with a group from Tennessee to the market. The group was full of lovely people, and I enjoyed getting to know them. We ate in the open-air market (covered by tarps hanging from ropes) called a tianguis which really reminded me of the giant market in Comayaguela, Honduras. There were all kinds of things for sale--fresh produce, meat, huge chicharrones (fried pork skins), typical food, flowers, spoons, dresses, etc. I love markets like those because it's a community of people, and you can find anything you could possibly want for quite a cheap price. Because we hadn't had lunch, I decided to eat with the group at a little stand in the market. José Luis, our adorable tour guide, had mentioned how rico he thought itacas were, so I tried one. It was essentially two thicker tortillas with cheese and cream between them. It was pretty good although simple. The director of the group wanted them to try quesadillas with flor de calabaza, squash flowers, because it's a pretty typical Mexican food. They tried it, and one of the boys didn't want half of his, so he offered to let me eat it. I did so gladly and found that I really liked it. The flower itself tasted a bit like okra. After this lunch, we wandered over to a ice cream shop that sells famous nieves of various crazy flavors. They had so many that included things like--corn, avocado, coconut with chile, horchata, rum, tequila, and all kinds of various fruits. I tried four flavors--rice, guanábana, coconut, and tamarindo. They were all very good. I have been told that tamarindo is an acquired taste, but I love anything tamarindo-flavored. Anyway, we were supposed to go to an ex-hacienda of Cortés, but the other group took too long climbing down the mountain, so we just went back to Cuernavaca. We didn't really mind because we were pretty exhausted.
Overall, it was a lovely experience. The mountains in Tepoatzlan are phenomenal. They tower overhead, jetting into the sky, and are carved cliffs adorned with greenery. Meanwhile, the town is, I suppose, what I would consider a hippie town. The people there are known for having odd beliefs about extra-terrestrials, cosmic energy, and the like. With its eccentricities, it was charming, and in its own odd way, reminded me of Shepherdstown.
Today was quite a good day as well. I enjoy my grammar class with my new friends, Maggie Uno and Maggie Dos--two delightful ladies who go to Gonzaga. Although I doubt they realize it, I appreciate their accepting nature very much, and I loyally adopt anyone with whom I can share an unbridled laugh (which includes them). They let me ramble about Honduras, and they may even decide to come visit me there once I get settled. I feel very blessed to have met them.
In my grammar class, we are reading El Principito, or The Little Prince. It is a very good book, and we use it as a means of sparking deep conversations--which naturally, I am drawn to more so than any superficial discussion. Our topic today struck a chord with me and lingered throughout the day as it came up in my second class as well--loneliness, solitude, and the ability to enjoy being alone. Our professor, Daniel, talked about the difficulties of being mentally alone--although surrounded by a crowd physically, feeling completely alone in one's spirit. He described this as the worst kind of loneliness there is. For me, however, while I know the trials of this kind of loneliness, and I won't dispute its implicated difficulty, I have found that the times that I have been the most internally lonely are the times when I undoubtedly grow the most. Naturally, there is a choice in this kind of solitude, just as there is when we're physically alone. We can either choose to face ourselves and God, or we can fill the silence--internal and external--with distractions. Daniel was also telling us the importance of taking some time to be alone and undistracted while traveling since he firmly believes that situations of travel are the times when we are likely to grow the most--because we're out of our comfort zones and have no one else to rely on but ourselves. Or, in my beliefs, God. Having experienced this firsthand, I know it to be true.
This theme of thought continued in my second class--my last day of literature--with a casual conversation in Spanish with my professor. We began by talking about traveling in general and moved on toward a discussion of being alone. Both of us share a need for time to get away and be alone, and we both consider ourselves to be pretty introverted although we aren't afraid of people or social situations. We discussed how society does not teach us to enjoy being alone--the subliminal messages are always geared toward someone else completing you. We both agreed that another person never has this ability, or responsibility, for that matter. For me, having grown up with female peers that constantly have to have boyfriends, I think it is sad that women tend to never allow themselves the time to develop their own identities without a man or to learn to be satisfied with being alone. I'm not men-bashing by any means, but too many women--or people in general--attach themselves to someone else just because they are afraid of being alone. The expectation, then, is that the other person can ease the internal loneliness, but that simply is not the case. Thus, we put too much pressure on the relationship and doom it to fail in some cases.
There is a great importance in learning not only to be alone--what to do with one's time, etc.--but also how to truly enjoy being alone. It's not easy because silence and being alone inevitably lead to a choice of distractions or a choice of dealing with pain that's easier when left buried. I have taken both routes in times of loneliness, and I can assure anyone that the path of allowing God to unearth deep roots of destruction in our character is infinitely better than avoiding His all-seeing gaze.
As a result of these conversations, I realized that I truly have learned how to enjoy being alone. I have spent so much of my life since I stopped living with my family being, more or less, alone. I lived in North Carolina for a summer with no friends--merely working and spending time with my great aunt while realizing the reality that I truly had no home. While it was one of those times that I chose the road of distraction rather than brokenness, it, too, was a journey on the road to contentment. I took summer classes at Shepherd and lived with roommates I didn't know and experienced one of the most difficult internal bouts of loneliness in my life, but I can also quickly list that time as one of the most pivotal for my personal growth. I traveled to Honduras last summer and lived without the familiarities of people that I knew well and came to thrill in the idea of me and God alone. It was that summer that I felt what it means to truly be in love with God--and to know the delicacy of His wooing love for me. I traveled to Jamaica without really knowing anyone in the group from Shepherd and, once finally alone and undistracted with God, realized my need to surrender my time and validation to God once again. I have lived for the past two years with a pretty constant sense of loneliness at Shepherd just from living as a wanderer not tied to a group or significant other. And now, I have been here in Mexico--so thoroughly content. I know that many people don't understand how I have enjoyed this time of rest. I'm sure to some it seems that I have been wasting time in a new place when I could have been experiencing new things, but there is a time and place for everything. And, in this time and this place, the road I felt led to travel was one without my normal tone of busyness. Unlike in past times, it is not that I am afraid to explore; it is only the desire to be obedient to God´s leading--which in this case was rest. Plus, I don´t believe that this is the last time I will be going to Mexico. I have enjoyed this sunny waiting room and feel deeply blessed by the privilege I've had in being here. I may not know all the intricate purposes of God's plans and details, but I love engaging in the mystery of His leading and the privilege of blindly following. And I am so grateful to now understand that I have reached a place where I can be just as content (and in some cases more so) with simply being alone with God as I can being surrounded by those that I love. I am happy in any place, really, and I have learned that no matter what happens in life, that if I am walking in God's will, I can trust that He is giving me His best. Thus, those situations that seem bad or difficult, suffering-inducing or tragic, are His best for my character and for His Kingdom, and in the end, it will all be worked for His good.
With this realization, I now also patiently wonder when the time draws near for completely learning how to be joined with someone else, the art of sharing. While we weren't extremely close before we came, I now feel as if Leigh Ann and I are family. We basically share everything, and this is a dynamic that deeply blesses me. It warms my heart that she feels comfortable using or having anything of mine and doesn't have to worry about asking. (It reminds me of what I believe God wants our relationship with Him to be. He's wants to share and lavish His best on us without reservations.) I am grateful that she has such an open, willing heart that she shares with me as well--life stories, possessions, food, and memories. I love that she can look at me at the dinner table, and I can know--without any words--that she wants half of my piece of bread. I love that she reminds me to put on sunscreen, and when she's done drinking from her water bottle, she automatically holds it out to me for a drink. While I don't necessarily know her opinion on the matter, I can't help but believe that God orchestrated our being here together and paved the way for our friendship because, for me, it has probably been the most precious part of this trip. And, I also believe it has been its own journey on my road to learning how to share all with someone else.
While I do believe that there is a deep value in learning how to be alone with God--content in His presence and in splendid awe of His depths--I also believe that once we have reached that place, there comes a time to learn to give up this lavish solitude to share that gift with someone else. This belief is echoed by the very nature of Jesus. He was already in a place of perfect unity with God. He enjoyed His presence and thrived in the joy of their solitude. But, He was also obedient when God sent Him forth to share that gift with others. Solitude with God was still His lifeblood when He was on earth as He often got away from others to pray and be alone with God, but He willingly went forth into utter despair and loneliness, away from the comfort and love of the Father, so that others could get real with God and experience His solitude and love. This is the road that I know I am called to walk very soon. I now believe that I understand what it was that I was waiting for before all of His promises could come to fruition--a true security and contentment in His solitude. And now, I welcome the opportunity to share--with unbridled abandon--with others.
With unspeakable love,
Sarah
Well, it has been a while since I last posted, so I should probably give you an update on some of our excursions. As a means of celebrating our last week and also for the purpose of trying food outside of our host house, Leigh Ann and I went on Tuesday to the centro to eat at La India Bonita, a very Mexican restaurant with a beautiful environment and phenomenal food. We decided to share some guacamole, and I can say without a doubt that it was the best I've ever had. They also brought us some delicious rolls that were baked with cream cheese inside. For dinner, Leigh Ann ate chile relleno which looked very good, and I had their typical dish that included all the Mexican signatures--steak, beans, rice, fried plantains, a chicken enchilada with mole, and a chicken enchilada verde. Everything was so delicious! I always have a hard time remembering what to order when it comes to drinks because nonalcoholic drinks are often unlisted, so when Leigh Ann ordered tea, I did as well. It came with ice, and I made a joking comment about whether or not the ice would be safe (after I'd already downed a glass, of course). Well, while I was fine and didn't get sick at all, the result for Leigh Ann wasn't quite as harmless. I suppose I have built up an iron stomach over the past couple years. Following our restaurant adventure, we walked around the centro so that Leigh Ann could buy some things and then took a taxi home.
Yesterday, Leigh Ann and I went to Tepoatzlan, a little town not too far from Cuernavaca that has a pyramid in the mountains. Apparently, the climb to the pyramid is a beast for the conquering, but we were quite tired and, thus, opted to stay in the little town exploring the market and eating odd flavors of nieves (more or less ice cream). We first toured a church and an ex-convent though. The ex-convent for Franciscan monks has to have been the most peaceful building I think I've ever encountered. It was free of furniture and the architecture played with light and sound in a beautiful way. Simplicity is an astounding beauty. After the church, we ventured with a group from Tennessee to the market. The group was full of lovely people, and I enjoyed getting to know them. We ate in the open-air market (covered by tarps hanging from ropes) called a tianguis which really reminded me of the giant market in Comayaguela, Honduras. There were all kinds of things for sale--fresh produce, meat, huge chicharrones (fried pork skins), typical food, flowers, spoons, dresses, etc. I love markets like those because it's a community of people, and you can find anything you could possibly want for quite a cheap price. Because we hadn't had lunch, I decided to eat with the group at a little stand in the market. José Luis, our adorable tour guide, had mentioned how rico he thought itacas were, so I tried one. It was essentially two thicker tortillas with cheese and cream between them. It was pretty good although simple. The director of the group wanted them to try quesadillas with flor de calabaza, squash flowers, because it's a pretty typical Mexican food. They tried it, and one of the boys didn't want half of his, so he offered to let me eat it. I did so gladly and found that I really liked it. The flower itself tasted a bit like okra. After this lunch, we wandered over to a ice cream shop that sells famous nieves of various crazy flavors. They had so many that included things like--corn, avocado, coconut with chile, horchata, rum, tequila, and all kinds of various fruits. I tried four flavors--rice, guanábana, coconut, and tamarindo. They were all very good. I have been told that tamarindo is an acquired taste, but I love anything tamarindo-flavored. Anyway, we were supposed to go to an ex-hacienda of Cortés, but the other group took too long climbing down the mountain, so we just went back to Cuernavaca. We didn't really mind because we were pretty exhausted.
Overall, it was a lovely experience. The mountains in Tepoatzlan are phenomenal. They tower overhead, jetting into the sky, and are carved cliffs adorned with greenery. Meanwhile, the town is, I suppose, what I would consider a hippie town. The people there are known for having odd beliefs about extra-terrestrials, cosmic energy, and the like. With its eccentricities, it was charming, and in its own odd way, reminded me of Shepherdstown.
Today was quite a good day as well. I enjoy my grammar class with my new friends, Maggie Uno and Maggie Dos--two delightful ladies who go to Gonzaga. Although I doubt they realize it, I appreciate their accepting nature very much, and I loyally adopt anyone with whom I can share an unbridled laugh (which includes them). They let me ramble about Honduras, and they may even decide to come visit me there once I get settled. I feel very blessed to have met them.
In my grammar class, we are reading El Principito, or The Little Prince. It is a very good book, and we use it as a means of sparking deep conversations--which naturally, I am drawn to more so than any superficial discussion. Our topic today struck a chord with me and lingered throughout the day as it came up in my second class as well--loneliness, solitude, and the ability to enjoy being alone. Our professor, Daniel, talked about the difficulties of being mentally alone--although surrounded by a crowd physically, feeling completely alone in one's spirit. He described this as the worst kind of loneliness there is. For me, however, while I know the trials of this kind of loneliness, and I won't dispute its implicated difficulty, I have found that the times that I have been the most internally lonely are the times when I undoubtedly grow the most. Naturally, there is a choice in this kind of solitude, just as there is when we're physically alone. We can either choose to face ourselves and God, or we can fill the silence--internal and external--with distractions. Daniel was also telling us the importance of taking some time to be alone and undistracted while traveling since he firmly believes that situations of travel are the times when we are likely to grow the most--because we're out of our comfort zones and have no one else to rely on but ourselves. Or, in my beliefs, God. Having experienced this firsthand, I know it to be true.
This theme of thought continued in my second class--my last day of literature--with a casual conversation in Spanish with my professor. We began by talking about traveling in general and moved on toward a discussion of being alone. Both of us share a need for time to get away and be alone, and we both consider ourselves to be pretty introverted although we aren't afraid of people or social situations. We discussed how society does not teach us to enjoy being alone--the subliminal messages are always geared toward someone else completing you. We both agreed that another person never has this ability, or responsibility, for that matter. For me, having grown up with female peers that constantly have to have boyfriends, I think it is sad that women tend to never allow themselves the time to develop their own identities without a man or to learn to be satisfied with being alone. I'm not men-bashing by any means, but too many women--or people in general--attach themselves to someone else just because they are afraid of being alone. The expectation, then, is that the other person can ease the internal loneliness, but that simply is not the case. Thus, we put too much pressure on the relationship and doom it to fail in some cases.
There is a great importance in learning not only to be alone--what to do with one's time, etc.--but also how to truly enjoy being alone. It's not easy because silence and being alone inevitably lead to a choice of distractions or a choice of dealing with pain that's easier when left buried. I have taken both routes in times of loneliness, and I can assure anyone that the path of allowing God to unearth deep roots of destruction in our character is infinitely better than avoiding His all-seeing gaze.
As a result of these conversations, I realized that I truly have learned how to enjoy being alone. I have spent so much of my life since I stopped living with my family being, more or less, alone. I lived in North Carolina for a summer with no friends--merely working and spending time with my great aunt while realizing the reality that I truly had no home. While it was one of those times that I chose the road of distraction rather than brokenness, it, too, was a journey on the road to contentment. I took summer classes at Shepherd and lived with roommates I didn't know and experienced one of the most difficult internal bouts of loneliness in my life, but I can also quickly list that time as one of the most pivotal for my personal growth. I traveled to Honduras last summer and lived without the familiarities of people that I knew well and came to thrill in the idea of me and God alone. It was that summer that I felt what it means to truly be in love with God--and to know the delicacy of His wooing love for me. I traveled to Jamaica without really knowing anyone in the group from Shepherd and, once finally alone and undistracted with God, realized my need to surrender my time and validation to God once again. I have lived for the past two years with a pretty constant sense of loneliness at Shepherd just from living as a wanderer not tied to a group or significant other. And now, I have been here in Mexico--so thoroughly content. I know that many people don't understand how I have enjoyed this time of rest. I'm sure to some it seems that I have been wasting time in a new place when I could have been experiencing new things, but there is a time and place for everything. And, in this time and this place, the road I felt led to travel was one without my normal tone of busyness. Unlike in past times, it is not that I am afraid to explore; it is only the desire to be obedient to God´s leading--which in this case was rest. Plus, I don´t believe that this is the last time I will be going to Mexico. I have enjoyed this sunny waiting room and feel deeply blessed by the privilege I've had in being here. I may not know all the intricate purposes of God's plans and details, but I love engaging in the mystery of His leading and the privilege of blindly following. And I am so grateful to now understand that I have reached a place where I can be just as content (and in some cases more so) with simply being alone with God as I can being surrounded by those that I love. I am happy in any place, really, and I have learned that no matter what happens in life, that if I am walking in God's will, I can trust that He is giving me His best. Thus, those situations that seem bad or difficult, suffering-inducing or tragic, are His best for my character and for His Kingdom, and in the end, it will all be worked for His good.
With this realization, I now also patiently wonder when the time draws near for completely learning how to be joined with someone else, the art of sharing. While we weren't extremely close before we came, I now feel as if Leigh Ann and I are family. We basically share everything, and this is a dynamic that deeply blesses me. It warms my heart that she feels comfortable using or having anything of mine and doesn't have to worry about asking. (It reminds me of what I believe God wants our relationship with Him to be. He's wants to share and lavish His best on us without reservations.) I am grateful that she has such an open, willing heart that she shares with me as well--life stories, possessions, food, and memories. I love that she can look at me at the dinner table, and I can know--without any words--that she wants half of my piece of bread. I love that she reminds me to put on sunscreen, and when she's done drinking from her water bottle, she automatically holds it out to me for a drink. While I don't necessarily know her opinion on the matter, I can't help but believe that God orchestrated our being here together and paved the way for our friendship because, for me, it has probably been the most precious part of this trip. And, I also believe it has been its own journey on my road to learning how to share all with someone else.
While I do believe that there is a deep value in learning how to be alone with God--content in His presence and in splendid awe of His depths--I also believe that once we have reached that place, there comes a time to learn to give up this lavish solitude to share that gift with someone else. This belief is echoed by the very nature of Jesus. He was already in a place of perfect unity with God. He enjoyed His presence and thrived in the joy of their solitude. But, He was also obedient when God sent Him forth to share that gift with others. Solitude with God was still His lifeblood when He was on earth as He often got away from others to pray and be alone with God, but He willingly went forth into utter despair and loneliness, away from the comfort and love of the Father, so that others could get real with God and experience His solitude and love. This is the road that I know I am called to walk very soon. I now believe that I understand what it was that I was waiting for before all of His promises could come to fruition--a true security and contentment in His solitude. And now, I welcome the opportunity to share--with unbridled abandon--with others.
With unspeakable love,
Sarah
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
It has been a very busy past couple of days. Yesterday, Leigh Ann and I went to Teotihuacan to see the Aztec pyramids. We saw and climbed the Pyramids of Quetzalcoatl and the Sun. Leigh Ann was rather afraid of heights (and thus of climbing the Pyramid of the Sun at its whopping 246 feet), but she did so with a general ease. I was so very proud of her. We saw quite a phenomenal view from the top. It was incredibly sunny, and although we both put on spf 50 sunscreen, we both got a little burnt. It was a good day although we were quite tired when we returned although we're less sore than we expected to be.
Meanwhile, it has been unbearably hot here, hitting 100 degrees F. on a regular basis, and we don't have air conditioning here. We come home from school and usually nap because the heat just zaps our energy. This is our last week of classes, and we're both excited to go to our respective homes soon--Leigh Ann back to the US and me, of course, to Honduras.
I am so excited I can hardly contain myself. I have been waiting to return to Honduras since the day I left--July 23 of last summer. When I left, I had no idea when or how I would return, and I had already made peace with the idea that God was not going to permit me to return this summer. How I am blessed that He is allowing me to return to my beloved home! I called Roy yesterday and was just reminded of all of the precious, simple things with which I can't wait to reacquaint myself. Washing my laundry in the pila. Daily rain pounding on the tin roof. Homemade coconut paletas. Motorbike rides through city streets. The smiles of orphan babies. Hugs from Kendi. I simply can't wait. I have such a difficulty going to sleep at night because I can't stop imagining what that moment will be like when I finally touch down in Tegus again, and I wake up every morning before dawn wide-awake with excitement.
I am, however, also trying to savor these last few days in Mexico. Mexico is a beautiful country, and I like the people. I would like to return someday. I have enjoyed my time at Uninter, and I do feel that it has helped my Spanish fluency although I rather worry about what will happen when I return to the US. (I don't want to lose all my progress!)
Today, I had the same class and the same grammar professor as before. I really like the class that consists of a few other girls from Gonzaga University, and I also enjoy the professor, a young guy who likes to pick on us girls. He keeps the class captivated by involving us personally, and I enjoy that. I also have the same literature class with a professor I've had since the first week. I love that class because we have lively discussions that actually carry meaning for me. Lastly, I still have Marielle for conversation class, and she has grown accustomed to my nerdiness of never really going anywhere and not being a dancer or drinker. While I like my professors and fellow students, I am pretty burnt out on school in general. Daniel, my grammar professor, was saying today that at the level of the class I am in, there is no real reason to teach grammar because we've basically learned all that there is to know. Our main problem now is internalizing what we've learned so that we can apply it in writing and in speaking. This is the hard part because you can't really teach that. You can only facilitate practice. With this in mind, I am thrilled that I will be going to Honduras after this. I have a difficulty with talking for the sake of talking. Even in classes at Shepherd, unless I feel as if I have something of importance to say, I don't talk in class. Thus, talking here isn't any different. I am terrible at small talk and don't often offer my opinions at the drop of a hat (if I have any at all). I am ready for my practice to carry some meaning. I want to have conversations with people that carry weight and importance for both parties and aren't merely an educational obligation.
Anyway, I suppose I have probably neglected to share a little bit about our everyday lives here, so here is a breakdown of our daily routine:
I get up around 6:30 in order to shower. Since we've been closing the drain cover, as Coco directed, we haven't had any more cockroaches or scorpions. No more cockroach dance in the shower with Fernando. We get ready for classes and go down to breakfast at 7:30. Without fail, we begin our breakfast by telling Coco hello and good morning and by eating fruit of some variety--mango, watermelon, bananas and kiwi, apples with yogurt, or papaya with lime and sugar. Then we have any variety of breakfast foods here--eggs and beans, bread with beans and cheese, pancakes, French toast, etc. For every meal, the baby television is on, and we laugh over ridiculous morning shows, unbelievable international dance competitions, and crazy telenovelas where the same girl almost gets raped by the same guy every time and the mother of the loca lady looks like a lion. There's one show called "Llena de Amor" or "Full of Love" about a fat girl who is played by an actress who is quite skinny in reality and who wears a fat suit to fit the part--except that they don't add any "fat" to her face which just looks silly.
Anyway, then, Coco takes us to class, meandering through terrible traffic. There must be 25 different ways to get to her house and to the school. We arrive at the school and have varying schedules. For me, there is 3 hours of grammar class, a 20 minute break, 2 hours of literature class, a 10 minute break, and one hour of conversation. Then Leigh Ann waits for me and our other housemates--Lisa, Jamila, and Brittney--and we wander out of the campus to wait for Coco to pick us up from school. We chatter about people in our classes--some that drive us crazy and some who we love to laugh with--or about our many mistakes in class that day. I'm always doing something clumsy or just ridiculous at which we enjoy laughing. When Coco comes, we return home to have lunch at 3.
Without fail, we have a soup (avocado, tortilla, carrot, vegetable, pumpkin flower, etc.), a main dish (chicken with mole, pork chops in orange sauce, enchiladas verdes, etc.) with rice or salad, and usually a dessert (manchego cheese with ate, arroz con leche, lime and coffee cookie ice cream cake, lime ice cream, etc.). We eat quite well in the afternoons. Sometimes, an adorable couple--friends of Coco--come to eat with us. Their names are Felix and Carmelita, and I absolutely love them. He is quiet and soft-spoken, but his face carries such a tender wisdom and compassion that I feel as if I could contently talk to Felix for hours. Meanwhile, Carmelita is an outgoing fireball. She is sassy and full of energy and has bright eyes full of life. In short, she is hilarious, and I can interact with her as if we were family. They both speak a little English, and Carmelita has no problems correcting our Spanish mistakes. Carmelita also has no problems calling us out on various embarrassing aspects of life, but that's another story for another time. What I love about them--aside from their sweet and accepting nature--is how very much in love they still are after more than 30 years of marriage. It blesses me greatly to know that they do everything together without tiring of one another, and when Felix looks at Carmelita, I can still see that he adores her (even when he thinks she's being outlandish). As cursi (Spanish for cheesy) as it may sound, that kind of enduring sharing of life between two people is absolutely beautiful to me, and I find myself desiring the same one day.
After lunch, Leigh Ann and I retreat to our room where we talk about the day or things in the US or whatever, usually laughing often. I so love Leigh Ann and how we've managed to become good friends as a result of this experience. I love that we're comfortable enough with each other to be real and pick on each other and call each other out for our nonsense. I will miss having her around whenever I go to Honduras. In addition to talking, we often nap to escape the heat although we pretty much perpetually feel gross. We do homework and get online, and I often read. Right now, I'm still reading that Mother Theresa book along with The Soloist which is very good thus far. Last week, I finished Persuasion which was an odd pick for me, but one that had parts I enjoyed nonetheless. We play with Monina, the poodle. Sometimes, we venture to the Superama, but most of our time is just spent en casa which I don't really mind.
To end the day, we descend downstairs to eat cena at 9--a light dinner. This can consist of anything from pancakes to sandwiches to hotdogs with cheese to nachos to pozole. We also usually have licuados or smoothies at this time--chocolate milk, strawberry milk, mamey and milk, etc. Licuados are my favorite although I enjoy most of the food here. We visit with Coco and the other girls for a while and then once again climb the stairs to do homework, call our families with Skype, or just talk until we fall asleep. As of now, it is raining--a welcome sound for me as it at least makes the mornings cooler--and I am thankful to be here. Once again, I'm overwhelmed by the depth of God's love that He would permit me to be in such a beautiful place, and I grin with anticipation for the marvelous things to come that exist up His sleeve and out of my sight. God's surprises are always the best.
With Love,
Sarah
Meanwhile, it has been unbearably hot here, hitting 100 degrees F. on a regular basis, and we don't have air conditioning here. We come home from school and usually nap because the heat just zaps our energy. This is our last week of classes, and we're both excited to go to our respective homes soon--Leigh Ann back to the US and me, of course, to Honduras.
I am so excited I can hardly contain myself. I have been waiting to return to Honduras since the day I left--July 23 of last summer. When I left, I had no idea when or how I would return, and I had already made peace with the idea that God was not going to permit me to return this summer. How I am blessed that He is allowing me to return to my beloved home! I called Roy yesterday and was just reminded of all of the precious, simple things with which I can't wait to reacquaint myself. Washing my laundry in the pila. Daily rain pounding on the tin roof. Homemade coconut paletas. Motorbike rides through city streets. The smiles of orphan babies. Hugs from Kendi. I simply can't wait. I have such a difficulty going to sleep at night because I can't stop imagining what that moment will be like when I finally touch down in Tegus again, and I wake up every morning before dawn wide-awake with excitement.
I am, however, also trying to savor these last few days in Mexico. Mexico is a beautiful country, and I like the people. I would like to return someday. I have enjoyed my time at Uninter, and I do feel that it has helped my Spanish fluency although I rather worry about what will happen when I return to the US. (I don't want to lose all my progress!)
Today, I had the same class and the same grammar professor as before. I really like the class that consists of a few other girls from Gonzaga University, and I also enjoy the professor, a young guy who likes to pick on us girls. He keeps the class captivated by involving us personally, and I enjoy that. I also have the same literature class with a professor I've had since the first week. I love that class because we have lively discussions that actually carry meaning for me. Lastly, I still have Marielle for conversation class, and she has grown accustomed to my nerdiness of never really going anywhere and not being a dancer or drinker. While I like my professors and fellow students, I am pretty burnt out on school in general. Daniel, my grammar professor, was saying today that at the level of the class I am in, there is no real reason to teach grammar because we've basically learned all that there is to know. Our main problem now is internalizing what we've learned so that we can apply it in writing and in speaking. This is the hard part because you can't really teach that. You can only facilitate practice. With this in mind, I am thrilled that I will be going to Honduras after this. I have a difficulty with talking for the sake of talking. Even in classes at Shepherd, unless I feel as if I have something of importance to say, I don't talk in class. Thus, talking here isn't any different. I am terrible at small talk and don't often offer my opinions at the drop of a hat (if I have any at all). I am ready for my practice to carry some meaning. I want to have conversations with people that carry weight and importance for both parties and aren't merely an educational obligation.
Anyway, I suppose I have probably neglected to share a little bit about our everyday lives here, so here is a breakdown of our daily routine:
I get up around 6:30 in order to shower. Since we've been closing the drain cover, as Coco directed, we haven't had any more cockroaches or scorpions. No more cockroach dance in the shower with Fernando. We get ready for classes and go down to breakfast at 7:30. Without fail, we begin our breakfast by telling Coco hello and good morning and by eating fruit of some variety--mango, watermelon, bananas and kiwi, apples with yogurt, or papaya with lime and sugar. Then we have any variety of breakfast foods here--eggs and beans, bread with beans and cheese, pancakes, French toast, etc. For every meal, the baby television is on, and we laugh over ridiculous morning shows, unbelievable international dance competitions, and crazy telenovelas where the same girl almost gets raped by the same guy every time and the mother of the loca lady looks like a lion. There's one show called "Llena de Amor" or "Full of Love" about a fat girl who is played by an actress who is quite skinny in reality and who wears a fat suit to fit the part--except that they don't add any "fat" to her face which just looks silly.
Anyway, then, Coco takes us to class, meandering through terrible traffic. There must be 25 different ways to get to her house and to the school. We arrive at the school and have varying schedules. For me, there is 3 hours of grammar class, a 20 minute break, 2 hours of literature class, a 10 minute break, and one hour of conversation. Then Leigh Ann waits for me and our other housemates--Lisa, Jamila, and Brittney--and we wander out of the campus to wait for Coco to pick us up from school. We chatter about people in our classes--some that drive us crazy and some who we love to laugh with--or about our many mistakes in class that day. I'm always doing something clumsy or just ridiculous at which we enjoy laughing. When Coco comes, we return home to have lunch at 3.
Without fail, we have a soup (avocado, tortilla, carrot, vegetable, pumpkin flower, etc.), a main dish (chicken with mole, pork chops in orange sauce, enchiladas verdes, etc.) with rice or salad, and usually a dessert (manchego cheese with ate, arroz con leche, lime and coffee cookie ice cream cake, lime ice cream, etc.). We eat quite well in the afternoons. Sometimes, an adorable couple--friends of Coco--come to eat with us. Their names are Felix and Carmelita, and I absolutely love them. He is quiet and soft-spoken, but his face carries such a tender wisdom and compassion that I feel as if I could contently talk to Felix for hours. Meanwhile, Carmelita is an outgoing fireball. She is sassy and full of energy and has bright eyes full of life. In short, she is hilarious, and I can interact with her as if we were family. They both speak a little English, and Carmelita has no problems correcting our Spanish mistakes. Carmelita also has no problems calling us out on various embarrassing aspects of life, but that's another story for another time. What I love about them--aside from their sweet and accepting nature--is how very much in love they still are after more than 30 years of marriage. It blesses me greatly to know that they do everything together without tiring of one another, and when Felix looks at Carmelita, I can still see that he adores her (even when he thinks she's being outlandish). As cursi (Spanish for cheesy) as it may sound, that kind of enduring sharing of life between two people is absolutely beautiful to me, and I find myself desiring the same one day.
After lunch, Leigh Ann and I retreat to our room where we talk about the day or things in the US or whatever, usually laughing often. I so love Leigh Ann and how we've managed to become good friends as a result of this experience. I love that we're comfortable enough with each other to be real and pick on each other and call each other out for our nonsense. I will miss having her around whenever I go to Honduras. In addition to talking, we often nap to escape the heat although we pretty much perpetually feel gross. We do homework and get online, and I often read. Right now, I'm still reading that Mother Theresa book along with The Soloist which is very good thus far. Last week, I finished Persuasion which was an odd pick for me, but one that had parts I enjoyed nonetheless. We play with Monina, the poodle. Sometimes, we venture to the Superama, but most of our time is just spent en casa which I don't really mind.
To end the day, we descend downstairs to eat cena at 9--a light dinner. This can consist of anything from pancakes to sandwiches to hotdogs with cheese to nachos to pozole. We also usually have licuados or smoothies at this time--chocolate milk, strawberry milk, mamey and milk, etc. Licuados are my favorite although I enjoy most of the food here. We visit with Coco and the other girls for a while and then once again climb the stairs to do homework, call our families with Skype, or just talk until we fall asleep. As of now, it is raining--a welcome sound for me as it at least makes the mornings cooler--and I am thankful to be here. Once again, I'm overwhelmed by the depth of God's love that He would permit me to be in such a beautiful place, and I grin with anticipation for the marvelous things to come that exist up His sleeve and out of my sight. God's surprises are always the best.
With Love,
Sarah
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Plata and Punches
Hello Everyone,
It has been a long but rather epic day. Today was our excursion to Taxco, an adorable town known for its silver mines and silver handicrafts and jewelry. We went with our university here and toured an ex-convent, a Catholic cathedral, and the town center with the silver shops. It is a truly charming place--perhaps more so than Cuernavaca. There are cobble-stone streets that are very narrow, and very few cars are permitted to drive in the downtown area--there are primarily only Volkswagon bugs that serve as taxis. Mosaics are scattered around the town, and all of the buildings are required to be white with red-orange roofs. It's a beautiful place with a thriving zocalo, and the view was truly breath-taking. It's a peaceful place nestled in the heart of mountains.
We had a long drive there, and when we arrived to Taxco, our guide stopped at a silver shop so that we could hear an explanation of how to tell whether the silver we were considering purchasing was real or not. It was at this silver shop that I had my first drink of alcohol more or less by accident. On the way there, our school guide had told us that there is a signature drink in Taxco that is similar to a margarita without the ice. When we arrived at the silver shop, we were given baby glasses with what we later guessed was just such a drink. I suppose it makes for a good story. Nothing too epic, really.
We then traveled to the center of the town and visited an ex-convent where we heard a little about the processions of Semana Santa. Every Holy Week, they have processions of 40 minutes to 4 hours where people carry wooden crosses, walk holding burning candles while chains adorn their legs, have someone beat them, or carry large, spiked logs tied to their arms. This is all meant to be a penance or a ceremonial suffering for Jesus as part of Catholicism.
Following this ex-convent, which served as a meeting place during the Mexican revolution and was adorned with numerous pictures of saints and Jesus figures, we toured the Cathedral of St. Sebastian or St. Prisca. (It has two names.) It is a huge building with several altars all covered in gold leaf. There were numerous paintings and phenomenal architectural structures inside and outside the Baroque building. Aside from the inescapable gold everywhere, I also marveled at the placement of the pulpit--hovering high over the congregation. There's a lot I could say on these subjects, but I suppose my main thought was just how very deceived we humans are by religion--the very thing we think will save us.
After these tours, we had some free time to shop for silver in the various stores surrounding the zocalo. I hate shopping. There's no real way around it. I don't like being followed by vendors or guilted into buying something I don't really want. I don't like being stared at while I'm considering an item. I'm not an impulsive person--especially when it comes to purchases. Thus, I need unadultered time to make decisions; otherwise, I merely escape the situation, buying nothing. Needless to say, while I did purchase a few small items, I found the shopping experience more stressful than really necessary.
On our way back, in a city "too dangerous to go to," we witnessed our first and only bit of violence. As we were driving down the highway, we noticed on the side of the road that a taxi had rear-ended another car. The driver and passengers (we're guessing) of the car were very angry and were yelling at the taxi driver. He was verbally retaliating until one of the three men landed a stiff punch to his jaw. It was a solid blow, but it didn't seem to affect him too much. It did, however, knock some common sense into him because he climbed back into his car--likely realizing that three men versus one seldom provides very good odds. So, yes, big bad Cuernavaca; it's so dangerous that we've seen all of only one instance of road rage in our three weeks of being here.
Anyway, tomorrow is yet another big day as we are going to Teotihuacan to climb Aztec pyramids (temples). I'm excited. I spent four years in high school hearing my Spanish teacher describe these places in detail, and I'm happy that I am able to see them for myself.
Meanwhile, only one week more until I go to Honduras. I am thoroughly excited although the anticipation almost makes me nervous. There are so many unknowns for the rest of the summer, and while I know that in reality I am blessed to have another great adventure, there's still that stubborn part of me that wants to figure out all of life's puzzles. But, what divine mysteries would I miss then?
Ever child-like,
Sarah
It has been a long but rather epic day. Today was our excursion to Taxco, an adorable town known for its silver mines and silver handicrafts and jewelry. We went with our university here and toured an ex-convent, a Catholic cathedral, and the town center with the silver shops. It is a truly charming place--perhaps more so than Cuernavaca. There are cobble-stone streets that are very narrow, and very few cars are permitted to drive in the downtown area--there are primarily only Volkswagon bugs that serve as taxis. Mosaics are scattered around the town, and all of the buildings are required to be white with red-orange roofs. It's a beautiful place with a thriving zocalo, and the view was truly breath-taking. It's a peaceful place nestled in the heart of mountains.
We had a long drive there, and when we arrived to Taxco, our guide stopped at a silver shop so that we could hear an explanation of how to tell whether the silver we were considering purchasing was real or not. It was at this silver shop that I had my first drink of alcohol more or less by accident. On the way there, our school guide had told us that there is a signature drink in Taxco that is similar to a margarita without the ice. When we arrived at the silver shop, we were given baby glasses with what we later guessed was just such a drink. I suppose it makes for a good story. Nothing too epic, really.
We then traveled to the center of the town and visited an ex-convent where we heard a little about the processions of Semana Santa. Every Holy Week, they have processions of 40 minutes to 4 hours where people carry wooden crosses, walk holding burning candles while chains adorn their legs, have someone beat them, or carry large, spiked logs tied to their arms. This is all meant to be a penance or a ceremonial suffering for Jesus as part of Catholicism.
Following this ex-convent, which served as a meeting place during the Mexican revolution and was adorned with numerous pictures of saints and Jesus figures, we toured the Cathedral of St. Sebastian or St. Prisca. (It has two names.) It is a huge building with several altars all covered in gold leaf. There were numerous paintings and phenomenal architectural structures inside and outside the Baroque building. Aside from the inescapable gold everywhere, I also marveled at the placement of the pulpit--hovering high over the congregation. There's a lot I could say on these subjects, but I suppose my main thought was just how very deceived we humans are by religion--the very thing we think will save us.
After these tours, we had some free time to shop for silver in the various stores surrounding the zocalo. I hate shopping. There's no real way around it. I don't like being followed by vendors or guilted into buying something I don't really want. I don't like being stared at while I'm considering an item. I'm not an impulsive person--especially when it comes to purchases. Thus, I need unadultered time to make decisions; otherwise, I merely escape the situation, buying nothing. Needless to say, while I did purchase a few small items, I found the shopping experience more stressful than really necessary.
On our way back, in a city "too dangerous to go to," we witnessed our first and only bit of violence. As we were driving down the highway, we noticed on the side of the road that a taxi had rear-ended another car. The driver and passengers (we're guessing) of the car were very angry and were yelling at the taxi driver. He was verbally retaliating until one of the three men landed a stiff punch to his jaw. It was a solid blow, but it didn't seem to affect him too much. It did, however, knock some common sense into him because he climbed back into his car--likely realizing that three men versus one seldom provides very good odds. So, yes, big bad Cuernavaca; it's so dangerous that we've seen all of only one instance of road rage in our three weeks of being here.
Anyway, tomorrow is yet another big day as we are going to Teotihuacan to climb Aztec pyramids (temples). I'm excited. I spent four years in high school hearing my Spanish teacher describe these places in detail, and I'm happy that I am able to see them for myself.
Meanwhile, only one week more until I go to Honduras. I am thoroughly excited although the anticipation almost makes me nervous. There are so many unknowns for the rest of the summer, and while I know that in reality I am blessed to have another great adventure, there's still that stubborn part of me that wants to figure out all of life's puzzles. But, what divine mysteries would I miss then?
Ever child-like,
Sarah
Friday, June 4, 2010
Moving to the Depths
Every time I tell someone here in Mexico that I want to live in Honduras, they all react the same--with a disgusted face and with the all-too-familiar question of ¨Why would you ever want to live there?¨ I have one professor who likes to pick on me about my attachment to Honduras, and he told me that they have a saying here that uses the word ¨Honduras¨ that translates to ¨Don´t put me in Honduras¨--that is, ¨Don´t get me into trouble.¨ The word ¨hondura¨ in Spanish literally translates into ¨depth¨; thus, Honduras equals depths. I want to move to the depths. I can´t help but laugh and feel that this is wildly appropriate for me.
Recently, I have been reminded of what true worship is and what our attitude toward God and others should be. It echoes in the life of Mother Theresa, of which I´m still reading, and it echoes in the words of Isaiah, the book in which I´ve been stuck. During a conversation with God in 1947, according to Come Be My Light, Mother Theresa felt as if God was telling her the following:
My little one--come--come--carry Me into the holes of the poor.--Come be My light.--I cannot go alone--they don´t know Me--so they don´t want Me. You come--go amongst them, carry Me with you into them.--How I long to enter their holes--their dark unhappy homes.
I know there there is a tendency to want to think of Mother Theresa as ultra-spiritual, as abnormal, demonstrating some magical, transcendental power to want to live that way. We, especially in the western world, tend to think of Mother Theresa or other missionaries and think, ¨Good for them. I could never do that.¨ I know this to be true because that was my perspective before I met Alvin Anderson and his family. I assumed that being a missionary was some supernatural calling that only the most dedicated, pious people could accomplish. But that´s simply not the case. God gave all of us the role of missionary--perhaps it is not to be a foreign missionary, but the Great Commission was given to all of Jesus´followers. It´s not just stated in the red letters; it is echoed all throughout the Bible, especially in Isaiah 61:
The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me because God anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. God sent me to announce the year of his grace--a celebration of God´s destruction of our enemies--and to comfort all who mourn.
In the western world, we tend to think that people need to come to us. We hold big events and think of marketing campaigns and logos. We build fancy churches with the most up-to-date technology so that people will be comfortable enough to come to us. We try to be politically correct and approachable so that people will come to us. But, we´re missing a basic point: God said to go into all the world and share His news. ¨Go.¨ It´s just that simple.
I went through a phase in life where I was very stuck on the manifestation of God´s tangible presence. In other words, I was immersed in the idea of God showing up, to where you could see His miracles and feel His presence. I read Tommy Tenney´s book, The Godchasers, and felt like I needed to go to church constantly expecting that He would be there. Now, years later, while that book and that message was important to me in its own time, I marvel at that belief. God´s presence is everywhere! Why do we need high concentrations of the miraculous right before our eyes when there are thousands of kinds of orchids all over the earth? Why would we need to feel the warm fuzzies of His love when He provides not only our needs but the very details of our hearts´desires? I think, like much of religion, the idea of sitting and waiting on God´s manifest presence--which to me means something tangible--is a thief of time. Don´t get me wrong--I believe that it is important to know that God invites us into His presence daily, and we are free to come to Him with the confidence that we are His beloved children. And, I also believe that there is a time that we are called to wait on Him, still and silent. But, why do we think that His presence can only descend within the four walls of a man-made church building? Why do we sit and wait to be filled and filled and filled until we´re bloated with His grace when there are people who don´t even know that He exists?
Although it is a sobering message, I think it is a drastically important one that Isaiah shares in chapter 65:
¨I´ve made myself available to those who haven´t bothered to ask. I´m here, ready to be found by those who haven´t bothered to look. I kept saying´I´m here, I´m right here´ to a nation that ignored me. I reached out day after day to a people who turned their backs on me, people who make wrong turns, who insist on doing things their own way. . . . They say, ´Keep your distance. Don´t touch me. I´m holier than thou.´
I share that scripture because I believe that we miss Him so frequently because we have God in a box of our expectations. We insist that He show Himself to be real in our ways, according to our definitions, and if He doesn´t, we doubt or become angry. And, thus, we miss Him. We say that we´re looking, but we´re doing so with our own demands. We can´t see Him because He doesn´t show Himself the way we think He should. And, I can´t help but wonder if the reason that we miss Him is because we are not being obedient to carry Him (however much we have of Him) to those who have none. We are selfish. We don´t enter the holes of the poor. We don´t visit the imprisoned. We figure it´s their job to come to us. I know that God is infinite, that there is more than enough of Him to go around. But, why should He continue to fill a people who refuse to carry Him forth to others? What sense would it make to reward disobedience?
Carrying Him to others costs us, undoubtedly. It is not an easy work, and it requires death to self daily. But being a missionary does not mean moving to some foreign land, eating weird foods, and speaking a new language. Being a missionary simply means having a heart that depends on God for everything--child-like, helpless, constantly surrendering. It is not a frenzy of action or a quota of souls to meet. I´m not endorsing zeal without wisdom or urgency without God´s guidance. I only encourage sacrifice and dependency, the sweet surrender.
Thus, I rejoice that God has called me to move to the depths. The people here ask me, ¨Isn´t it ugly there?¨ ¨Isn´t it full of poor people?¨ ¨Isn´t it too dangerous for you, a blonde, white woman, to be there?¨ And all I can do is smile because God has so graciously granted me a faith that He gives a full life in the emptiest of places. Worship is not about me. It´s not just about sitting, waiting to be filled. Worship, when the time comes and God directs, is about carrying Him to others, to the empty places so that they can be filled. And when I say as God directs, I want to make clear that we are all called to do this in some form or fashion--we don´t need to wait around on that calling because it´s already been given. What we do need to do is to seek Him so that He can teach us how to love, how to carry His spirit to others, and where.
So, with a humble heart, I ask that you pray for me because I want to selflessly carry Him into the darkest of places. I want to cheerfully move into the depths. I want to reject time-wasting selfishness and find Him where He is to be found--everywhere, and especially in the places where we are least comfortable.
With great love,
Sarah
Recently, I have been reminded of what true worship is and what our attitude toward God and others should be. It echoes in the life of Mother Theresa, of which I´m still reading, and it echoes in the words of Isaiah, the book in which I´ve been stuck. During a conversation with God in 1947, according to Come Be My Light, Mother Theresa felt as if God was telling her the following:
My little one--come--come--carry Me into the holes of the poor.--Come be My light.--I cannot go alone--they don´t know Me--so they don´t want Me. You come--go amongst them, carry Me with you into them.--How I long to enter their holes--their dark unhappy homes.
I know there there is a tendency to want to think of Mother Theresa as ultra-spiritual, as abnormal, demonstrating some magical, transcendental power to want to live that way. We, especially in the western world, tend to think of Mother Theresa or other missionaries and think, ¨Good for them. I could never do that.¨ I know this to be true because that was my perspective before I met Alvin Anderson and his family. I assumed that being a missionary was some supernatural calling that only the most dedicated, pious people could accomplish. But that´s simply not the case. God gave all of us the role of missionary--perhaps it is not to be a foreign missionary, but the Great Commission was given to all of Jesus´followers. It´s not just stated in the red letters; it is echoed all throughout the Bible, especially in Isaiah 61:
The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me because God anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. God sent me to announce the year of his grace--a celebration of God´s destruction of our enemies--and to comfort all who mourn.
In the western world, we tend to think that people need to come to us. We hold big events and think of marketing campaigns and logos. We build fancy churches with the most up-to-date technology so that people will be comfortable enough to come to us. We try to be politically correct and approachable so that people will come to us. But, we´re missing a basic point: God said to go into all the world and share His news. ¨Go.¨ It´s just that simple.
I went through a phase in life where I was very stuck on the manifestation of God´s tangible presence. In other words, I was immersed in the idea of God showing up, to where you could see His miracles and feel His presence. I read Tommy Tenney´s book, The Godchasers, and felt like I needed to go to church constantly expecting that He would be there. Now, years later, while that book and that message was important to me in its own time, I marvel at that belief. God´s presence is everywhere! Why do we need high concentrations of the miraculous right before our eyes when there are thousands of kinds of orchids all over the earth? Why would we need to feel the warm fuzzies of His love when He provides not only our needs but the very details of our hearts´desires? I think, like much of religion, the idea of sitting and waiting on God´s manifest presence--which to me means something tangible--is a thief of time. Don´t get me wrong--I believe that it is important to know that God invites us into His presence daily, and we are free to come to Him with the confidence that we are His beloved children. And, I also believe that there is a time that we are called to wait on Him, still and silent. But, why do we think that His presence can only descend within the four walls of a man-made church building? Why do we sit and wait to be filled and filled and filled until we´re bloated with His grace when there are people who don´t even know that He exists?
Although it is a sobering message, I think it is a drastically important one that Isaiah shares in chapter 65:
¨I´ve made myself available to those who haven´t bothered to ask. I´m here, ready to be found by those who haven´t bothered to look. I kept saying´I´m here, I´m right here´ to a nation that ignored me. I reached out day after day to a people who turned their backs on me, people who make wrong turns, who insist on doing things their own way. . . . They say, ´Keep your distance. Don´t touch me. I´m holier than thou.´
I share that scripture because I believe that we miss Him so frequently because we have God in a box of our expectations. We insist that He show Himself to be real in our ways, according to our definitions, and if He doesn´t, we doubt or become angry. And, thus, we miss Him. We say that we´re looking, but we´re doing so with our own demands. We can´t see Him because He doesn´t show Himself the way we think He should. And, I can´t help but wonder if the reason that we miss Him is because we are not being obedient to carry Him (however much we have of Him) to those who have none. We are selfish. We don´t enter the holes of the poor. We don´t visit the imprisoned. We figure it´s their job to come to us. I know that God is infinite, that there is more than enough of Him to go around. But, why should He continue to fill a people who refuse to carry Him forth to others? What sense would it make to reward disobedience?
Carrying Him to others costs us, undoubtedly. It is not an easy work, and it requires death to self daily. But being a missionary does not mean moving to some foreign land, eating weird foods, and speaking a new language. Being a missionary simply means having a heart that depends on God for everything--child-like, helpless, constantly surrendering. It is not a frenzy of action or a quota of souls to meet. I´m not endorsing zeal without wisdom or urgency without God´s guidance. I only encourage sacrifice and dependency, the sweet surrender.
Thus, I rejoice that God has called me to move to the depths. The people here ask me, ¨Isn´t it ugly there?¨ ¨Isn´t it full of poor people?¨ ¨Isn´t it too dangerous for you, a blonde, white woman, to be there?¨ And all I can do is smile because God has so graciously granted me a faith that He gives a full life in the emptiest of places. Worship is not about me. It´s not just about sitting, waiting to be filled. Worship, when the time comes and God directs, is about carrying Him to others, to the empty places so that they can be filled. And when I say as God directs, I want to make clear that we are all called to do this in some form or fashion--we don´t need to wait around on that calling because it´s already been given. What we do need to do is to seek Him so that He can teach us how to love, how to carry His spirit to others, and where.
So, with a humble heart, I ask that you pray for me because I want to selflessly carry Him into the darkest of places. I want to cheerfully move into the depths. I want to reject time-wasting selfishness and find Him where He is to be found--everywhere, and especially in the places where we are least comfortable.
With great love,
Sarah
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Best Cookie I've Ever Had
Some of my favorite memories of this place will always be the times where Leigh Ann and I are just sharing stories and laughing--often till we cry. I adore laughing. It is one of my favorite things to do, but it is always so much more precious when spent with someone else who can also release joy unbridled. Today, we ventured out for the first time since the orphanage, and this time, we were walking. We are going to Taxco and Teotihuacan this weekend, and we needed to go to an ATM. So, we walked to the local super market and back. While at the Superama, we were looking around and were fascinated by some new sweets and other dulces we had never seen before. All kinds of candies were arranged on a table, including a neatly wrapped brown package of something including both chocolate and cinnamon. That sounded like a magic recipe to me, and it was a cheap package, so I decided to buy it although we couldn't actually see what was inside. (Which Mama Bear Leigh Ann lectured me about. . ."Of course, you would buy the one thing that you can't tell what it actually looks like, Sarah.") The outside of the package said tabletas, so I figured that they were cookies of some sort. We had a delightful walk (although hot and uphill--I'm super out-of-shape), and when we returned, we decided to break out the cookies. I upwrapped the brown package to find individually wrapped, dark circular wonders that smelled delicious. I bit into it, and although it was hard, I was pleasantly struck by the taste of dark chocolate with a hint of cinnamon. Leigh Ann tried one bite and thought it tasted too strong, so she didn't eat the rest. Meanwhile, I am devouring this cookie. It was really sweet--you could actually feel the crunch of the sugar between your teeth--but there was also a dark chocolate, spicy bitterness to it. I was chatting with my brother via Skype and started bragging about how I was eating the best cookie ever. As I was licking the crumbs off of my fingers, I began to wonder if I could make them at home and remembered that there was a section on the package that said how it was made. You would think that it would have occurred to me that cookie makers don't give out their secret recipes or expose how they make their delicious confections, but I was in "best cookie ever" ecstacy, so common sense was absent. As I began to read, I started laughing until tears streamed down my face. In short, in Spanish, it said:
"Heat a liter of water or milk before (word I didn't know at the time. . .it's "boiling") (another word I didn't know. . ."place") a tablet of chocolate for (another word I didn't know. . ."hot chocolate") (another word I didn't know. . ."dissolve") (yet another. . ."beating") with a (when am I ever going to be fluent?!. . ."grinder") until it makes a (froth)."
The sad thing is that it wouldn't even have mattered if I knew those words because I ate it without reading the package. I ate an entire liter's worth of hot chocolate. Leigh Ann and I died laughing with tears streaming down our faces. Then, at dinner tonight, we told our host mother and housemates, and we had yet another laugh. Needless to say, I may not be sleeping tonight, but at least I had the best cookie I've ever eaten.
With laughs and love,
Sarah
"Heat a liter of water or milk before (word I didn't know at the time. . .it's "boiling") (another word I didn't know. . ."place") a tablet of chocolate for (another word I didn't know. . ."hot chocolate") (another word I didn't know. . ."dissolve") (yet another. . ."beating") with a (when am I ever going to be fluent?!. . ."grinder") until it makes a (froth)."
The sad thing is that it wouldn't even have mattered if I knew those words because I ate it without reading the package. I ate an entire liter's worth of hot chocolate. Leigh Ann and I died laughing with tears streaming down our faces. Then, at dinner tonight, we told our host mother and housemates, and we had yet another laugh. Needless to say, I may not be sleeping tonight, but at least I had the best cookie I've ever eaten.
With laughs and love,
Sarah
The Call
There is much that I could share about today, but I will merely state that even in my times of greatest weakness and fragility, God is always faithful. Sometimes, I just need to take the time to actively seek Him.
I learned yesterday (for lack of much news consumption here) that there was a major tropical storm that hit Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador this past weekend. It resulted in some major damage, and there have been numerous casualties. Guatemala received the brunt of the storm although the flooding and mudslides in all three countries have been equally dangerous. Before the tropical storm, a volcano in Guatemala City started erupting, spewing ash into the city. Thus, they shut the airport down to remove the ash. Unfortunately, the storm made this task much more difficult, and to my knowledge, the airport is still closed. This is an interesting fact since that is the airport where I am to have a layover between Mexico and Honduras. It could make for an interesting change of plans perhaps, but God knows and is in control. Thankfully, I talked to Melvin from Manos Extendidas, and he informed me that everything related to MEH is safe and escaped unharmed.
Meanwhile, please pray for all of those people in those countries that are suffering as they've lost loved ones, their homes, and their livelihood.
It is now 10 days until I leave for Honduras, and it feels closer in presence than ever before. I miss it so very much. Appropriately, I've been listening to Regina Spektor's song called "The Call." The lyrics echo my heart for Honduras:
"The Call" by Regina Spektor
It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder
Till it was a battle cry
I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye
Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before
All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war
Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light
You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say goodbye
Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean you have to forget
Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Till they're before your eyes
You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say goodbye
Ever content,
Sarah
I learned yesterday (for lack of much news consumption here) that there was a major tropical storm that hit Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador this past weekend. It resulted in some major damage, and there have been numerous casualties. Guatemala received the brunt of the storm although the flooding and mudslides in all three countries have been equally dangerous. Before the tropical storm, a volcano in Guatemala City started erupting, spewing ash into the city. Thus, they shut the airport down to remove the ash. Unfortunately, the storm made this task much more difficult, and to my knowledge, the airport is still closed. This is an interesting fact since that is the airport where I am to have a layover between Mexico and Honduras. It could make for an interesting change of plans perhaps, but God knows and is in control. Thankfully, I talked to Melvin from Manos Extendidas, and he informed me that everything related to MEH is safe and escaped unharmed.
Meanwhile, please pray for all of those people in those countries that are suffering as they've lost loved ones, their homes, and their livelihood.
It is now 10 days until I leave for Honduras, and it feels closer in presence than ever before. I miss it so very much. Appropriately, I've been listening to Regina Spektor's song called "The Call." The lyrics echo my heart for Honduras:
"The Call" by Regina Spektor
It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder
Till it was a battle cry
I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye
Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before
All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war
Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light
You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say goodbye
Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean you have to forget
Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Till they're before your eyes
You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say goodbye
Ever content,
Sarah
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