Hello All,
Today was our last day of teaching, and it was memorable mainly because it wasn´t that memorable. I love that about life though--the times that we think are the most pivotal are often anti-climactic, and the times and decisions that we dismiss are often the ones that completely turn our worlds upside down. I can´t help but think that that is the way that God works and is one of His subtle beauties. For Him, every moment and person is precious, and I want that to be the case for me as well.
To be honest, while six weeks have passed so quickly, it is a good thing that we are done teaching. We have no disciplinarian leverage--no grades, no consequences for misbehavior, etc. Thus, the novelty of MC and me as teachers has worn off, and the kids have gotten much bolder. We have done our best to maintain control of the class or to make class interesting enough that they pay attention, but it´s been hit and miss for the past two weeks. Sometimes, I´m ready to just end class early since it is obvious to me that the kids are done. It is very hard to teach in someone else´s classroom. You can´t establish your own rules, and often, we have to rely on the intervention of others to maintain some sense of order. This has always been a difficulty for me within field work at Shepherd as well. It is a learning experience though.
I have also learned a lot from collaborating with other volunteers. There is a lot of give-and-take and necessary humility. No one person can or should be the leader, and we all contribute valuable ideas and saving patience. It has taught me to entrust the education of my students to God, knowing that He knows best what they need to learn. And He has His own ways of opening doors for my students to learn--even if it is not the lessons that I have planned or the subjects that I value the most. I am so grateful for His grace that covers all of my flaws.
As far as ESL is concerned, I believe I have decided that I would like to get my TESOL certification. This experience was a way for me to test the waters to see if I was really interesting in doing so, and I do believe that I am. The level that my students are currently operating in is very basic and requires little training to teach. We teach a lot of vocabulary, and the most we ever covered in grammar was three basic verbs in the present tense only. But, I have had so many people at the church in Tegus ask me to teach them English that I think I would like to be better trained to perhaps give free English classes when I live here. But, it is all in God´s hands, so we shall see.
Today, we had third grade, fifth grade, fourth grade B, and sixth grade. We played bingo with the third grade, and I was pleasantly surprised by how much they actually remembered of the alphabet. Fifth grade also went smoothly as we did worksheets on family vocabulary. I was especially blessed by how many girls wished to participate. Often, it is unbelievably difficult to prompt the girls to be actively involved. Perhaps, it is a cultural trend, but they are often drowned out by the vocal and lively boys. Today, however, the girls actually lined up, excited to give their input. I was quite blessed by this change. Fourth grade B was crazy. We played bingo with them as a review and because they are always begging us to play bingo. They were wild, and we actually ended up ending class early because it was obvious to us that the kids were simply ´´done.´´ We ended with sixth grade which was equally as crazy. They had a quiz today on three verbs. Quiz results are always amusing to me--some kids absolutely shock you with their intelligence and willingness to study although they aren´t vocal in class. Other students that we would expect to do well, don´t simply because they´re goofing off. We intended to finish pen pal letters as our final activity, and it just didn´t happen. The best laid plans . . .
At any rate, it was a typical day of teaching, but it was also a blessed one as well.
Tomorrow is a program, and there are no classes. We are still going to go to Chiligatoro to take pictures, say goodbye, etc., but we won´t be teaching. A lot of our students today asked when we would be back. I was so happy to be able to tell them that when I move here to Honduras that I plan to visit, and that move is not so very far away! I love my students so much. They are so very precious.
Anyway, as a sidenote that I keep forgetting to mention, La Esperanza is so different from Villa Vieja in many ways but often for one simple fact--alcoholism is rampant here. There isn´t too much to do around here, and alcohol tends to be the entertainment. While I am a college kid, and thus, I have been around my share of drunk people, I have been rather amazed by how normal it is to constantly be surrounded by drunk people here. You can be driving down the road or walking along the street and see any number of people just passed out cold after drinking. Their skin bakes in the sun as they sprawl in the middle of the sidewalk in some of the most uncomfortable-looking positions. And no one stops. No one brings them inside. No one calls the police. It is totally expected to just keep walking, leaving them to sleep it off. More than once, we have been on trucks to and from Chiligatoro and have seen old men flopped on the side of the road in the mud, next to mud puddles, still gripping a bag or something else, with their hat still partially on. It is so bizarre to me. There seem to be interesting attitudes to drinking among the young people (mainly the soccer team) that we know here--either they do so readily, or they seem to be turned off by drinking. They´ve no doubt seen the effects on their families which likely influences their own decisions in this regard.
Another element of life here that is considered culturally normal is best described with a Spanish word, ´´pícaro.´´ The dictionary definition of pícaro is ´´sly person; rogue; rascal; vile; low; malicious; sly; naughty.´´ In general here, I have come to understand it as a person (usually a guy) who is crafty and manipulative--for men, trying to get with women that are married or are otherwise attached or cheating on whoever they are with. Among our soccer boys, it is often impossible for us to know which of them are married, attached, have kids, etc. because they never tell the truth. They also lie about their age constantly--usually conveniently closer to our own.
Along with this pícaro tendency is a widespread absence of fathers in the lives of their wives and children. For example, in the family that I live with in Esperanza, there are four sisters (that I have met; there are more siblings I haven´t met), and only one is married. The rest are raising their kids by themselves. This could be in part due to their independent tendencies, but I think it is also a product of their environment. It has to due with the culture of machismo, I know, but it still breaks my heart to see my little brothers growing up without the influence and care of a loving father. It is a generational curse that continues. I have had conversations with Jorge, Angel, and Alan about the importance of being a gentleman, etc., and I have been rather heartbroken at times by what they view as normal when it comes to interacting with women. I have great hopes for mis hermanitos, and I pray often that God would be the Father that they´ve never had.
I know that this is a work that He can do as I have seen the grace and amazing love of God at work in Roy´s life in this way. Roy´s father was married to and had six children with Roy´s mother but left them when Roy was seven. Just from conversations we´ve had, I know that this was one of the most defining incidents in Roy´s life that left much pain in its wake. But, he has also told me the story of how God freed him from unforgiveness and all the hurt that was so deeply rooted in Roy´s heart toward his father. Now, while they aren´t close, Roy has a good relationship with his father, and they do communicate and visit with each other. But, God has also provided Alvin to serve as a loving father who gives advice and reprimands, provision and affirmation to Roy. Alvin is the human father that Roy never had. Furthermore, God has become the ultimate Father for Roy and has moved in his life, teaching him through his own painful experiences and improving his character and his expectations for himself, breaking the generational curse. God is very powerful especially in the realm of families. The power of the Christian family and the love of adoption is so amazing to me, and I know that it is one of the major forces of God´s love in this country. Adoption (not even in an official fashion) is so important to me because everyone wants to be loved without condition.
So, to conclude, please pray for Honduras. Pray that the power of God´s familial love would permeate this place. Pray that He would work in the hearts of men to make them better husbands and fathers, and pray that He would work in the hearts of women to want better for themselves and to wait for God´s best. Pray that He would father the fatherless and fill the voids that so often consume.
With love,
Sarah
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
My Sisters
Hello All,
I realize that I haven´t updated in a while, but I am quite all right. I have gotten caught up in living life here rather than documenting it. It has been enjoyable and busy. Time is slipping by so very quickly, and I am dumbfounded by the fact that I only have 16 days left here in Honduras.
So many things have happened in this short stretch of time, so here is an update on some little things:
1) I got my first haircut here in Honduras. It turned out very well and cost me all of $3.50--heck yes.
2) Teaching is going well although it is as much of a learning process for me as it is for our students. Some things work, and some don´t. We just try to learn from all of it and improve as we go. One day last week, Walter, the little boy who wrote me a love note, grabbed my crotch. We were standing in the middle of a crowd of students when it happened, and it actually happened three times. I dismissed the first two times as accidents due to the fact that we were in a large group of students, his height, etc. But the third time, I snatched his hand up and gave him a stern scolding--highly uncharacteristic for me since I´m usually playful and joking with the students, but entirely necessary. I never know what my students see at home or what examples are paraded before them, but I want to do my best to teach them to respect me as well as others. Teaching is always an adventure.
3) The other day, Marie Claire and I were walking in Chiligatoro when a woman we didn´t know yelled at us from a truck, ´´Gringas feas y terribles.´´ My only response was to laugh because it was hilarious to me (and then I did pray for the lady). I had never seen this lady in my life, but she had enough hatred for me, a stranger, to yell an insult. Eh, all is well.
In other more eventful news, this past weekend was truly wonderful. Because our soccer boys of Esperanza won last weekend, they got to play for the championship in Tegus. Thus, my two Honduras worlds collided when I took the volunteers--Astrid, Marie Claire, and Tina--home with me to Tegus. It was a lot of fun. We took the bus on Thursday because the game was on Friday, and Roy picked us up at the bus station along with Kevin (mi hermanito!). Always the servant and gentleman, Roy got the biggest kick out of driving us around, and I was grateful for his ability to joke with the girls even when they didn´t always share the same language. Mamí Sara was so very hospitable and welcomed all of us into the Eagle´s Nest. The following day, Roy took the girls and I to Multiplaza Mall--it had been a while since we had seen various forms of city civilization, and the girls were grateful for shopping. Around lunchtime, Nick, our GVN director, picked us up to take us to Vía Olimpica for the game.
We were the only gringas there, but we felt completely at home at the epic match between Esperanza and Choluteca. I love that the town has adopted us as one of their own, and we are pretty die-hard fans, after all. There are no fans like Esperanza fans--they took buses at 6 AM to come to the game and brought their own drums, which were played throughout the entirety of the game. We had so much fun cheering our boys on, and the game was quite close. At one point, the team was rallying, and the place was just exploding with excitement. A guy called into a radio station in Esperanza and interviewed Dercia (one of the sisters in the family we live with) and me. Ha ha. I don´t believe I´ve ever been on the radio in the US, but now I have in Honduras. I couldn´t understand much of what he asked me because it was so loud, and I´m sure I sounded really silly--especially since Jorge (mi hermanito) who stayed home told me that he heard me and laughed a lot as a result. It was a really good time although very hot, and the game actually went into overtime, tied at 2-2. But, the boys eventually got tired and lost. It was pretty devastating to them as they all started crying and moped on the field for 20 minutes after the game. After the game, the girls headed back to Esperanza since there was a mushroom festival this past weekend (which entailed much dancing in the streets), and I stayed in Tegus. Roy came to pick me up and took me home to the Eagle´s Nest.
While we were in the car listening to some worship music Roy was playing (as he was singing along), it hit me that it was the 23rd--on that day last year, I left Honduras. Memories of leaving only reminded me what little time I have left. And, inexplicably, I began to cry in the car. I have grown so attached to my girls at the Eagle´s Nest, my new family in La Esperanza, the town of La Esperanza, my students in Chiligatoro, and once again, all of the people that I already knew and loved in Tegus. I know that God is preparing me to leave, but it´s never easy. I love this country and the people here so very much. In church on Sunday, it was continuously echoed in the scriptures used in the message:
Acts 7:33-34
God said, ´´Kneel and pray. You are in a holy place, on holy ground. I´ve seen the agony of my people in Egypt. I´ve heard their groans. I´ve come to help them. So get yourself ready; I´m sending you back to Egypt.´´
My prayer since I´ve been here in Honduras has been just one of humility and obedience: God, send me anywhere, to serve anyone, and help me to be obedient always. God loves the people in the US just as much as He loves the people here. There is suffering in the US although it is a different kind of suffering in some ways. If God is sending me back to the US, I want to return whole-heartedly, willing to be obedient.
2 Timothy 4:2
Challenge, warn, and urge your people. Don´t ever quit. Just keep it simple.
John 14:
I´ve told you this ahead of time, before it happens, so that when it does happen, the confirmation will deepen your belief in me. . . . I am carrying out my Father´s instructions right down to the last detail. Get up. Let´s go. It´s time to leave here.
Thus, I ask for your prayers as I prepare to leave, that God would strengthen my heart and give me a heart for the work and people He has for me in the US. Once again, I feel as if my church and family here are sending me to the US as a missionary since I so often feel so foreign in the place of my birth. But, more than anything, I want to be obedient.
One final story--Saturday was amazing. I went with Roy and the girls to clean Julio and Bessy´s house. Julio is the man in the wheelchair with muscular dystrophy that Roy helps every day. Roy was sick with a cold and fever, but he brought me, Mamí Sara, Mayra, Quendy, Blanca, and me to the house. We hadn´t previously been aware of what we were getting ourselves into. It was a profound mess, one rather reminiscent of professional cleaning or hoarding shows from the US. Realistically, we only put a dent in what needs to be done. We encountered maggots, mold, and more. We ran out of bleach and trash bags. While the girls marveled wide-eyed over a mess like they had never seen before, they also politely and cheerfully worked. I was so proud of all of them. Blanca swept and washed and dusted. Quendy washed mountains and mountains of dishes that likely wouldn´t have been considered salvageable in the US. Mayra helped me clean out the refrigerator. And Mamí Sara mopped and sorted, overseeing it all with a gentle spirit of serving compassion. We were playful as we raced each other to the dumpster with bag after bag of trash as Roy yelled jovially in the streets, ´´Basura!´´ which naturally embarrassed the girls and made me laugh. (Blanca kept fussing over how she looked like a street kid--which she has been before, and I believe being in this state was humbling for us all.) We were hot and sweaty. We sneezed a lot, and we were covered in filth. We truly couldn´t have been happier. We ate lunch with Julio and Bessy in this state, and as lunch finished, Julio and Bessy started a conversation with the girls that led to a precious God moment.
It began with the question of what the girls wanted in a husband. Being adolescent girls, this made them giggle and get shy. Being girls who have all been victims of sexual abuse, it is a question with extreme power because it dares them to want better for themselves than what they´ve seen and experienced. I always refer to the girls as my little sisters, but in this particular situation, I was most definitely one of them. I was expected to answer just as they were which made for a hilarious situation as Roy sat across from me. After we discussed the importance of having a godly man, a man who receives and gives God´s love, a man who serves others, and a man who is suited to our individual needs and God´s plans, Julio and Bessy wanted to pray for each of us. They talked with the girls about their dreams and told them that they should tell God their dreams without fear but with boldness. Dreams are rather a novelty to these girls who have just barely scraped by, focused on surviving first and foremost. Having the chance to believe for the future is something new and challenging.
Julio and Bessy started by praying for Mayra, who jumped at the chance to receive from God. They continued by praying for me which again was a funny situation for me given the circumstances. Next was Blanca. Blanca has had a lot of struggle lately. She decides that she wants to leave the Eagle´s Nest every so often, and Mamí Sara and Blanca butt heads over her attitude fairly often. She is such a sweet soul, but she struggles with her need for control and independence. It is difficult for her to submit to authority which I understand because it means a lack of control, and love means vulnerability. As Julio and Bessy prayed for her, she began to cry, and I found myself inexplicably sobbing with her. Bessy began to tell her to receive God´s embrace, and Bessy told me to give Blanca a hug. I can´t explain what God did in that moment, but Blanca collapsed in my arms, and we sobbed together for a long time. There were lots of prayers for freedom and lots of confessions of love for Jesus. It was undeniably God-orchestrated, but He still wasn´t done.
Quendy was next. She was so hesitant to stand before all of us for prayer, and she was even more hesitant to confess her dreams at Bessy´s prompting. She began with her dreams of being a beautician and having a steady job and a family and soon talked tearfully of the desire to move forward, to be free of all of the terrible things that had happened to her. Quendy is the one who was physically abused by her mother and brother, who never went to school, who was sexually abused by her father, and who was kept as a prisoner in her own home. Bessy placed a crumpled piece of newspaper in Quendy´s open hand saying, ´´Sometimes, you feel like you are trash, don´t you?´´ Quendy began to nodd and cry. Bessy continued, ´´You have been told by so many people that you aren´t worth anything, but God has taken you into His hands,´´ Bessy uncrumpled the newspaper, ´´and has made you something beautiful. And He says that you are worth something. You are so important, so valuable to Him.´´ Quendy began to cry as Bessy had her pour out her heart to God and repeat vital words of, ´´I am God´s daughter. I am loved.´´ Always a mess, I was crying along with her, and as Bessy told her to receive God´s embrace, I was again prompted to be the one physically demonstrating that embrace--a humbling privilege for me. Once again, I can´t explain what God did in that moment, but I know in my heart that it was no accident that I have stayed at the Eagle´s Nest this summer. Those girls are my sisters--not just in name, not just in affection, but in struggle and kindred heartache. There is an understanding among us that surpasses words, and I am infinitely grateful for the power of God´s perfect orchestration. Initially, I was so confused over God´s plans for me to be in Honduras while Alvin and Nellie were away, and I wasn´t sure how it would be staying in the Eagle´s Nest rather than Alvin´s, but this Saturday just showed me that He knew what He was doing. He always has a purpose. A precious, perfect purpose.
At the end of our impromptu church service (we´re always having impromptu church at Julio and Bessy´s), we prayed for Roy and Mamí Sara and sang together. (Roy has recovered from his cold and fever, I might add.) At God´s prompting, I began the song, ´´La Niña de Tus Ojos,´´ which the girls and I often sing together and means great significance for all of us--rescued women who once thought we were unworthy of His love.
You saw me when no one saw me
You loved me when no one loved me
And you gave me a name
I am Your daughter, the daughter of Your eyes
Because You loved me
I love You more than my life
I love You more than my life
I love You more than my life
We came to clean Julio´s house, and we left with cleaner hearts. Mamí Sara had been saying to Bessy all day, ´´We´re going to get rid of anything possible. We get rid of the old and dirty so that God can give us something new.´´ And so He did.
With speechless joy,
Sarah
I realize that I haven´t updated in a while, but I am quite all right. I have gotten caught up in living life here rather than documenting it. It has been enjoyable and busy. Time is slipping by so very quickly, and I am dumbfounded by the fact that I only have 16 days left here in Honduras.
So many things have happened in this short stretch of time, so here is an update on some little things:
1) I got my first haircut here in Honduras. It turned out very well and cost me all of $3.50--heck yes.
2) Teaching is going well although it is as much of a learning process for me as it is for our students. Some things work, and some don´t. We just try to learn from all of it and improve as we go. One day last week, Walter, the little boy who wrote me a love note, grabbed my crotch. We were standing in the middle of a crowd of students when it happened, and it actually happened three times. I dismissed the first two times as accidents due to the fact that we were in a large group of students, his height, etc. But the third time, I snatched his hand up and gave him a stern scolding--highly uncharacteristic for me since I´m usually playful and joking with the students, but entirely necessary. I never know what my students see at home or what examples are paraded before them, but I want to do my best to teach them to respect me as well as others. Teaching is always an adventure.
3) The other day, Marie Claire and I were walking in Chiligatoro when a woman we didn´t know yelled at us from a truck, ´´Gringas feas y terribles.´´ My only response was to laugh because it was hilarious to me (and then I did pray for the lady). I had never seen this lady in my life, but she had enough hatred for me, a stranger, to yell an insult. Eh, all is well.
In other more eventful news, this past weekend was truly wonderful. Because our soccer boys of Esperanza won last weekend, they got to play for the championship in Tegus. Thus, my two Honduras worlds collided when I took the volunteers--Astrid, Marie Claire, and Tina--home with me to Tegus. It was a lot of fun. We took the bus on Thursday because the game was on Friday, and Roy picked us up at the bus station along with Kevin (mi hermanito!). Always the servant and gentleman, Roy got the biggest kick out of driving us around, and I was grateful for his ability to joke with the girls even when they didn´t always share the same language. Mamí Sara was so very hospitable and welcomed all of us into the Eagle´s Nest. The following day, Roy took the girls and I to Multiplaza Mall--it had been a while since we had seen various forms of city civilization, and the girls were grateful for shopping. Around lunchtime, Nick, our GVN director, picked us up to take us to Vía Olimpica for the game.
We were the only gringas there, but we felt completely at home at the epic match between Esperanza and Choluteca. I love that the town has adopted us as one of their own, and we are pretty die-hard fans, after all. There are no fans like Esperanza fans--they took buses at 6 AM to come to the game and brought their own drums, which were played throughout the entirety of the game. We had so much fun cheering our boys on, and the game was quite close. At one point, the team was rallying, and the place was just exploding with excitement. A guy called into a radio station in Esperanza and interviewed Dercia (one of the sisters in the family we live with) and me. Ha ha. I don´t believe I´ve ever been on the radio in the US, but now I have in Honduras. I couldn´t understand much of what he asked me because it was so loud, and I´m sure I sounded really silly--especially since Jorge (mi hermanito) who stayed home told me that he heard me and laughed a lot as a result. It was a really good time although very hot, and the game actually went into overtime, tied at 2-2. But, the boys eventually got tired and lost. It was pretty devastating to them as they all started crying and moped on the field for 20 minutes after the game. After the game, the girls headed back to Esperanza since there was a mushroom festival this past weekend (which entailed much dancing in the streets), and I stayed in Tegus. Roy came to pick me up and took me home to the Eagle´s Nest.
While we were in the car listening to some worship music Roy was playing (as he was singing along), it hit me that it was the 23rd--on that day last year, I left Honduras. Memories of leaving only reminded me what little time I have left. And, inexplicably, I began to cry in the car. I have grown so attached to my girls at the Eagle´s Nest, my new family in La Esperanza, the town of La Esperanza, my students in Chiligatoro, and once again, all of the people that I already knew and loved in Tegus. I know that God is preparing me to leave, but it´s never easy. I love this country and the people here so very much. In church on Sunday, it was continuously echoed in the scriptures used in the message:
Acts 7:33-34
God said, ´´Kneel and pray. You are in a holy place, on holy ground. I´ve seen the agony of my people in Egypt. I´ve heard their groans. I´ve come to help them. So get yourself ready; I´m sending you back to Egypt.´´
My prayer since I´ve been here in Honduras has been just one of humility and obedience: God, send me anywhere, to serve anyone, and help me to be obedient always. God loves the people in the US just as much as He loves the people here. There is suffering in the US although it is a different kind of suffering in some ways. If God is sending me back to the US, I want to return whole-heartedly, willing to be obedient.
2 Timothy 4:2
Challenge, warn, and urge your people. Don´t ever quit. Just keep it simple.
John 14:
I´ve told you this ahead of time, before it happens, so that when it does happen, the confirmation will deepen your belief in me. . . . I am carrying out my Father´s instructions right down to the last detail. Get up. Let´s go. It´s time to leave here.
Thus, I ask for your prayers as I prepare to leave, that God would strengthen my heart and give me a heart for the work and people He has for me in the US. Once again, I feel as if my church and family here are sending me to the US as a missionary since I so often feel so foreign in the place of my birth. But, more than anything, I want to be obedient.
One final story--Saturday was amazing. I went with Roy and the girls to clean Julio and Bessy´s house. Julio is the man in the wheelchair with muscular dystrophy that Roy helps every day. Roy was sick with a cold and fever, but he brought me, Mamí Sara, Mayra, Quendy, Blanca, and me to the house. We hadn´t previously been aware of what we were getting ourselves into. It was a profound mess, one rather reminiscent of professional cleaning or hoarding shows from the US. Realistically, we only put a dent in what needs to be done. We encountered maggots, mold, and more. We ran out of bleach and trash bags. While the girls marveled wide-eyed over a mess like they had never seen before, they also politely and cheerfully worked. I was so proud of all of them. Blanca swept and washed and dusted. Quendy washed mountains and mountains of dishes that likely wouldn´t have been considered salvageable in the US. Mayra helped me clean out the refrigerator. And Mamí Sara mopped and sorted, overseeing it all with a gentle spirit of serving compassion. We were playful as we raced each other to the dumpster with bag after bag of trash as Roy yelled jovially in the streets, ´´Basura!´´ which naturally embarrassed the girls and made me laugh. (Blanca kept fussing over how she looked like a street kid--which she has been before, and I believe being in this state was humbling for us all.) We were hot and sweaty. We sneezed a lot, and we were covered in filth. We truly couldn´t have been happier. We ate lunch with Julio and Bessy in this state, and as lunch finished, Julio and Bessy started a conversation with the girls that led to a precious God moment.
It began with the question of what the girls wanted in a husband. Being adolescent girls, this made them giggle and get shy. Being girls who have all been victims of sexual abuse, it is a question with extreme power because it dares them to want better for themselves than what they´ve seen and experienced. I always refer to the girls as my little sisters, but in this particular situation, I was most definitely one of them. I was expected to answer just as they were which made for a hilarious situation as Roy sat across from me. After we discussed the importance of having a godly man, a man who receives and gives God´s love, a man who serves others, and a man who is suited to our individual needs and God´s plans, Julio and Bessy wanted to pray for each of us. They talked with the girls about their dreams and told them that they should tell God their dreams without fear but with boldness. Dreams are rather a novelty to these girls who have just barely scraped by, focused on surviving first and foremost. Having the chance to believe for the future is something new and challenging.
Julio and Bessy started by praying for Mayra, who jumped at the chance to receive from God. They continued by praying for me which again was a funny situation for me given the circumstances. Next was Blanca. Blanca has had a lot of struggle lately. She decides that she wants to leave the Eagle´s Nest every so often, and Mamí Sara and Blanca butt heads over her attitude fairly often. She is such a sweet soul, but she struggles with her need for control and independence. It is difficult for her to submit to authority which I understand because it means a lack of control, and love means vulnerability. As Julio and Bessy prayed for her, she began to cry, and I found myself inexplicably sobbing with her. Bessy began to tell her to receive God´s embrace, and Bessy told me to give Blanca a hug. I can´t explain what God did in that moment, but Blanca collapsed in my arms, and we sobbed together for a long time. There were lots of prayers for freedom and lots of confessions of love for Jesus. It was undeniably God-orchestrated, but He still wasn´t done.
Quendy was next. She was so hesitant to stand before all of us for prayer, and she was even more hesitant to confess her dreams at Bessy´s prompting. She began with her dreams of being a beautician and having a steady job and a family and soon talked tearfully of the desire to move forward, to be free of all of the terrible things that had happened to her. Quendy is the one who was physically abused by her mother and brother, who never went to school, who was sexually abused by her father, and who was kept as a prisoner in her own home. Bessy placed a crumpled piece of newspaper in Quendy´s open hand saying, ´´Sometimes, you feel like you are trash, don´t you?´´ Quendy began to nodd and cry. Bessy continued, ´´You have been told by so many people that you aren´t worth anything, but God has taken you into His hands,´´ Bessy uncrumpled the newspaper, ´´and has made you something beautiful. And He says that you are worth something. You are so important, so valuable to Him.´´ Quendy began to cry as Bessy had her pour out her heart to God and repeat vital words of, ´´I am God´s daughter. I am loved.´´ Always a mess, I was crying along with her, and as Bessy told her to receive God´s embrace, I was again prompted to be the one physically demonstrating that embrace--a humbling privilege for me. Once again, I can´t explain what God did in that moment, but I know in my heart that it was no accident that I have stayed at the Eagle´s Nest this summer. Those girls are my sisters--not just in name, not just in affection, but in struggle and kindred heartache. There is an understanding among us that surpasses words, and I am infinitely grateful for the power of God´s perfect orchestration. Initially, I was so confused over God´s plans for me to be in Honduras while Alvin and Nellie were away, and I wasn´t sure how it would be staying in the Eagle´s Nest rather than Alvin´s, but this Saturday just showed me that He knew what He was doing. He always has a purpose. A precious, perfect purpose.
At the end of our impromptu church service (we´re always having impromptu church at Julio and Bessy´s), we prayed for Roy and Mamí Sara and sang together. (Roy has recovered from his cold and fever, I might add.) At God´s prompting, I began the song, ´´La Niña de Tus Ojos,´´ which the girls and I often sing together and means great significance for all of us--rescued women who once thought we were unworthy of His love.
You saw me when no one saw me
You loved me when no one loved me
And you gave me a name
I am Your daughter, the daughter of Your eyes
Because You loved me
I love You more than my life
I love You more than my life
I love You more than my life
We came to clean Julio´s house, and we left with cleaner hearts. Mamí Sara had been saying to Bessy all day, ´´We´re going to get rid of anything possible. We get rid of the old and dirty so that God can give us something new.´´ And so He did.
With speechless joy,
Sarah
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Most Chilled Out Person in the World
Hello All,
I hope it´s as sunny for all of you as it is for me in Esperanza right now. Yesterday, my roomie and I took a sick day to sleep off the stomach bug, and it was quite helpful. I am feeling 100% better now, and the only sunburn residue is my peeling nose.
Today is El Día de Lempira en Honduras--my second of this holiday in two years. Lempira was a Lenca Indian that took the initiative to fight off the Spanish to work toward independence, and he is thus known as a Honduran national hero. Because of this holiday and the fact that student teachers have begun teaching in Chiligatoro, we only had two classes today. Fourth grade B was a bit wild today; holidays do have a way of hyping children up. There was a special play performed afterward, so we only had sixth grade for twenty minutes which was actually perfect. It was just enough time to teach them the verb ´´to be.´´ They are so very smart, and they caught on so quickly. At Marie Claire´s suggestion, we are administering our first quiz to them on Thursday. We are trying to prepare them to write pen pal letters to my sister´s class that wrote them letters before school let out for the summer.
Yesterday, we received a visit from Nick, our Global Volunteer Network coordinator, and we had a fun time laughing and joking with him. Afterward, Tina, Marie Claire (my roommate here), Maricruz, and I all had an impromptu talking session. Maricruz shared the testimony of her son who was a drug addict and alcoholic before becoming a Christian. It was a blessing to listen to her story. Afterwards, we were briefly discussing religion, and as Maricruz was asking the other two girls their beliefs, she mentioned that although she is a Christian, she is not a Jesus freak and didn´t wish to pressure them. I piped in saying that, personally, I am a Jesus freak. There is no reason for me to deny it, but I won´t force Him on anyone else. Love doesn´t force itself onto others, and God doesn´t force Himself onto us. So, while I will always be honest and real about God and who I am, and while I hope earnestly that the love and peace of God overflows from me to others daily, it is not for me to force Jesus into someone else´s heart. Just as the Indian poem says, we cannot make the flower blossom. It is all His work. We are merely the vessels. Anyway, Tina piped in and said that she was glad that I am not a forceful person in this regard, that she had been worried when she first met me (I guess from things she´d heard about me being a Christian) and that she had avoided me at first. But, Marie Claire added (and Tina agreed) ´´But you are the most chilled out person in the world.´´
I take that as a great compliment and know that it is all the work of Jesus in my life. I was not always as peaceful and laid back as I am now. I seriously doubt people would have said that about me even just a few years ago. God has worked through circumstances in my life to cultivate patience in ways that I never thought possible. I look back on who I was a mere five years ago and know that there is no other explanation for who I am today. While I go through my bouts of impatience and stubbornness, times of fighting God and wanting my own way, I have learned (and continue learning) how to rest in Him and His will. His burden is easy; His yoke is light. I trust His best more than ever before.
Meanwhile, I have only one more week of teaching after this and only three more weeks left in Honduras in total. While three weeks seemed like a long time in Mexico (in the pre-Honduras anticipation), it seems like a very short time now. I believe I will be more ready to leave this summer than I was last summer. I am excited for my senior year at Shepherd (I´m so old!), and I am excited to graduate (even if I will never use my magic piece of paper in the rest of my life). I am excited to live with my girls for another year and to enjoy a final year of college life. I have enjoyed college so very much. I also look forward to the preparations to move here. I keep mentally going through my closet and excitedly thinking of everything that I can get rid of. It is absolutely ridiculous how much junk I have accumulated in only 21 years of life. Life is so much simpler when you own little.
As much as I am excited to move here, I know that this year will be a time of learning to lose all and share all with others. I am incredibly excited, but I also know that letting go of some elements will be very difficult. It hit me earlier today just what it will mean moving here--who I will be leaving behind. It will mean possibly not seeing my family often, and it will mean having to Skype with my best friend, Anthony, to keep up with how his senior year of college is going. It will mean being out of the reach of many people who have stolen my heart over the years. But, it will also mean opening my heart to new adopted family, new friends, and new people that desperately need to see Jesus in someone else. I have been called to leave it all behind, and I want to do so with a joyful (albeit broken) spirit.
Lots of love,
Sarah
I hope it´s as sunny for all of you as it is for me in Esperanza right now. Yesterday, my roomie and I took a sick day to sleep off the stomach bug, and it was quite helpful. I am feeling 100% better now, and the only sunburn residue is my peeling nose.
Today is El Día de Lempira en Honduras--my second of this holiday in two years. Lempira was a Lenca Indian that took the initiative to fight off the Spanish to work toward independence, and he is thus known as a Honduran national hero. Because of this holiday and the fact that student teachers have begun teaching in Chiligatoro, we only had two classes today. Fourth grade B was a bit wild today; holidays do have a way of hyping children up. There was a special play performed afterward, so we only had sixth grade for twenty minutes which was actually perfect. It was just enough time to teach them the verb ´´to be.´´ They are so very smart, and they caught on so quickly. At Marie Claire´s suggestion, we are administering our first quiz to them on Thursday. We are trying to prepare them to write pen pal letters to my sister´s class that wrote them letters before school let out for the summer.
Yesterday, we received a visit from Nick, our Global Volunteer Network coordinator, and we had a fun time laughing and joking with him. Afterward, Tina, Marie Claire (my roommate here), Maricruz, and I all had an impromptu talking session. Maricruz shared the testimony of her son who was a drug addict and alcoholic before becoming a Christian. It was a blessing to listen to her story. Afterwards, we were briefly discussing religion, and as Maricruz was asking the other two girls their beliefs, she mentioned that although she is a Christian, she is not a Jesus freak and didn´t wish to pressure them. I piped in saying that, personally, I am a Jesus freak. There is no reason for me to deny it, but I won´t force Him on anyone else. Love doesn´t force itself onto others, and God doesn´t force Himself onto us. So, while I will always be honest and real about God and who I am, and while I hope earnestly that the love and peace of God overflows from me to others daily, it is not for me to force Jesus into someone else´s heart. Just as the Indian poem says, we cannot make the flower blossom. It is all His work. We are merely the vessels. Anyway, Tina piped in and said that she was glad that I am not a forceful person in this regard, that she had been worried when she first met me (I guess from things she´d heard about me being a Christian) and that she had avoided me at first. But, Marie Claire added (and Tina agreed) ´´But you are the most chilled out person in the world.´´
I take that as a great compliment and know that it is all the work of Jesus in my life. I was not always as peaceful and laid back as I am now. I seriously doubt people would have said that about me even just a few years ago. God has worked through circumstances in my life to cultivate patience in ways that I never thought possible. I look back on who I was a mere five years ago and know that there is no other explanation for who I am today. While I go through my bouts of impatience and stubbornness, times of fighting God and wanting my own way, I have learned (and continue learning) how to rest in Him and His will. His burden is easy; His yoke is light. I trust His best more than ever before.
Meanwhile, I have only one more week of teaching after this and only three more weeks left in Honduras in total. While three weeks seemed like a long time in Mexico (in the pre-Honduras anticipation), it seems like a very short time now. I believe I will be more ready to leave this summer than I was last summer. I am excited for my senior year at Shepherd (I´m so old!), and I am excited to graduate (even if I will never use my magic piece of paper in the rest of my life). I am excited to live with my girls for another year and to enjoy a final year of college life. I have enjoyed college so very much. I also look forward to the preparations to move here. I keep mentally going through my closet and excitedly thinking of everything that I can get rid of. It is absolutely ridiculous how much junk I have accumulated in only 21 years of life. Life is so much simpler when you own little.
As much as I am excited to move here, I know that this year will be a time of learning to lose all and share all with others. I am incredibly excited, but I also know that letting go of some elements will be very difficult. It hit me earlier today just what it will mean moving here--who I will be leaving behind. It will mean possibly not seeing my family often, and it will mean having to Skype with my best friend, Anthony, to keep up with how his senior year of college is going. It will mean being out of the reach of many people who have stolen my heart over the years. But, it will also mean opening my heart to new adopted family, new friends, and new people that desperately need to see Jesus in someone else. I have been called to leave it all behind, and I want to do so with a joyful (albeit broken) spirit.
Lots of love,
Sarah
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Enjoying Esperanza
Hello All,
This weekend has been truly delightful. I enjoyed my time in Esperanza very much. One evening this week, I was playing cards with Alan, one of the sons of the sisters where I live. Alan and I were a pair, and we were winning pretty consistently. He was so excited. I loved hanging out with this little man, and I told him that I had adopted him as my little brother (along with his other brother, Angel). The next day, Alan introduced me to his friends as his big sister. It was so sweet. I have started calling the little girls, Ana, Evelyn, and Ivania, my little sisters as well.
The birthday party was a great success. I hung out with Jorge, the 16-year-old son of one of the sisters. He is such a good kid, and we had a very good conversation. I adopted him as my little brother as well. He immediately took to the adoption, and we pick on each other like brother and sister. I am quite thankful to have a catracho friend here in Esperanza. Becoming attached the family and my students has paved the way for an attachment to Esperanza as well. The family is so very precious and special, and I will likely visit them when I live in Honduras. Jorge will be going to university in Tegus soon, so I told him that when I live down here permanently, he´ll have to come visit me.
Today, we went to the town soccer game. There is an adult league (which I think is so awesome), and a team from Esperanza was playing Choluteca in a tournament. It was so much fun, and it actually reminded me of my hometown of Philippi. La Esperanza is actually a lot like Philippi just in terms of community. They won 4 to 0 and will be playing next weekend in Tegus. The celebration afterward was awesome and reminded me of how great small towns can be.
Meanwhile, a stomach bug is going around, and I´m afraid I´ve caught it. So please keep my health in your prayers, and although it was rainy, my face got baked today. Eh, trivial things, really.
Lots of love,
Sarah
This weekend has been truly delightful. I enjoyed my time in Esperanza very much. One evening this week, I was playing cards with Alan, one of the sons of the sisters where I live. Alan and I were a pair, and we were winning pretty consistently. He was so excited. I loved hanging out with this little man, and I told him that I had adopted him as my little brother (along with his other brother, Angel). The next day, Alan introduced me to his friends as his big sister. It was so sweet. I have started calling the little girls, Ana, Evelyn, and Ivania, my little sisters as well.
The birthday party was a great success. I hung out with Jorge, the 16-year-old son of one of the sisters. He is such a good kid, and we had a very good conversation. I adopted him as my little brother as well. He immediately took to the adoption, and we pick on each other like brother and sister. I am quite thankful to have a catracho friend here in Esperanza. Becoming attached the family and my students has paved the way for an attachment to Esperanza as well. The family is so very precious and special, and I will likely visit them when I live in Honduras. Jorge will be going to university in Tegus soon, so I told him that when I live down here permanently, he´ll have to come visit me.
Today, we went to the town soccer game. There is an adult league (which I think is so awesome), and a team from Esperanza was playing Choluteca in a tournament. It was so much fun, and it actually reminded me of my hometown of Philippi. La Esperanza is actually a lot like Philippi just in terms of community. They won 4 to 0 and will be playing next weekend in Tegus. The celebration afterward was awesome and reminded me of how great small towns can be.
Meanwhile, a stomach bug is going around, and I´m afraid I´ve caught it. So please keep my health in your prayers, and although it was rainy, my face got baked today. Eh, trivial things, really.
Lots of love,
Sarah
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Love of God Is Folly
Hello All,
Well, after losing the first version of this post, perhaps you´ll get a more direct version this time. I feel as if I don´t even know where to begin. Today has been unbelievable and so God-directed.
The day began with much dying. I have been praying for a long time that God would teach me how to love--and so He is, through a situation that has caused me much vulnerability and has required much painful, obedient honesty, leading to many tears in the process.
I remember marveling at Alvin´s supernatural love the first time we ever did street ministry with him a few years ago. He loves those kids and pours his life out for them even as they reject him and his invitation for a better life. He has known some of those kids for 13 years and still has yet to see a change in their lifestyles. His love for them knows no conditions. He doesn´t withhold love from them even though they continue to reject a better life and continue to sell their bodies in prostitution, still are high on glue, or refuse to believe that God has better for them (even though Alvin is demonstrating His love right in front of their faces). Alvin loves in the face of rejection, and to me, this is real love.
Real love goes hand-in-hand with truth and obedience. It is easy to love and tell the truth when it is acceptable to the situation, when it doesn´t cost us anything, or when it is reciprocated and believed. It is wildly difficult to love obediently when we´re rejected, made to look stupid, or when it costs us our pride. It is difficult to tell the truth when we know that there is a high probability that it is a painful truth or a truth that no one else will believe.
God has been dealing with me about my pride. It is one of those things that desperately needs to die in me so that I can have a humble heart. I have such a pride in my own self-sufficiency, in my ability to be independent, in my capacity to protect myself from vulnerability and to be untouchable. One mild example of this happened yesterday, and while I don´t know that it bothered the other girls, it crushed me. We three teachers were walking in Esperanza when we passed a young boy who said something to us in Spanish. On a regular basis, we get yelled at, hissed at, kissed at, harrassed, etc. by males of all ages. Thus, it has become our habit to just ignore everyone because it is impossible to know the intentions of the other person. We don´t want to send an invitation just by being polite. In this case as well, we kept walking, ignoring the boy. It wasn´t until we passed him that I realized what his question was--What time is it? I was devastated and convicted that I had literally refused to give someone the time of day simply as a means of protecting myself. It was a terrible realization and made me understand that there is no need for me to ignore anyone. God is fully capable of protecting me from any results of a kind hello. I don´t think Jesus ignored anyone, and I shouldn´t either.
So, as I said, God has been dealing with me in regard to pride. I don´t like being vulnerable. I hate it because I feel exposed. Real love always requires vulnerability though as well as transparency and obedience. I was just pouring out my heart to God earlier today, whining about how I felt embarrassed and humiliated, rejected and used, and in the midst of my brokenness, He reminded me--the love of God is folly. God led me to my old journal and my entries from early May before I left. I had been reading The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning and included the following excerpt:
Don´t try to feel anything, think anything, or do anything. With all the goodwill in the world you cannot make anything happen. Don´t force prayer. Simply relax in the presence of the God you half believe in and ask for a touch of folly.
An Indian poem by Tagore:
No, it is not yours to open buds to blossom,
Shake the bud, strike it,
It is beyond your power to make it blossom.
Your touch soils it.
You tear its petals to pieces and strew them into the dust,
But no colors appear and no perfume.
Oh, it is not for you to open the bud into blossom!
He who can open the bud does it so simply.
He gives it a glance and the life sap stirs through its veins.
At his breath the flower spreads its wings
And flutters in the wind.
Colors flash out like heart longing, the perfume betrays a sweet secret.
He who can open the bud does it so simply.
Lámour de Dieu est folie! -- The love of God is folly.
The following day, I aptly had pasted the following fortune from a fortune cookie as a good reminder: The greatest risk is not taking one.
That word, folly, means ´´the state or quality of being foolish; stupidity; a lack of good sense.´´ Operating in the real love of God often means that we are going to look stupid to the world. We´re supposed to look like idiots when we´re walking in God´s obedient love. God brought me to the story of Noah to remind me of this. Naturally, Noah looked stupid while he was being obedient and building the ark out of love for God. But, what interested me more was the folly of God and His love in that story. The whole reason for the flood was that all of God´s creation was full of evil except for Noah. God had painstakingly taken time to create human beings in His image to love Him and serve Him, and all but one and his family were living selfishly and disobeying. He had lovingly poured life into humans, and none of them except Noah and his family loved Him back. In the world´s terms, doesn´t that make God look stupid, rejected, humiliated? Yet, God was not embarrassed; He just decided to start over with the one family that did love Him.
Thus, with all of these revelations in mind and a new prayer in my heart that God would give me a touch of folly, I set out for the center of town to go here, to the internet cafe. I got a mere three or four houses down when I saw an old woman dressed in indigenous clothes walking laboriously with a cane--and she had no shoes. There is a split second of time when we see the struggle of another person when we assess how involved we are willing to be--is this their problem or am I willing to make it mine? For a few seconds, I kept walking, thinking, deciding, and thoughts of my own shoes flooded my head. I turned around. I began talking to the old lady who had one solitary tooth hanging from her gums, and I couldn´t understand a word of what she was saying although she understood me. I asked her if I could buy her a pair of shoes. I offered mine, but as she was a tiny woman, they would have been huge on her. She agreed to sit and wait on the sidewalk while I bought her a pair of shoes. I hustled off with a mission, not knowing exactly where I would fine a pair.
I went to the closest store I found and ran into the sixth grade teacher from Chiligatoro. The look that she gave me as I bought a tiny pair of shoes (that obviously wouldn´t fit me) was priceless, and I began to sense the beauty of folly. I took the shoes back to the woman and knelt before her, placing them on her filthy feet. One of them fit, but the other did not--her foot was swollen, and she was suffering immense pain. As I was talking to her, numerous people were passing by and staring (more than the usual stares I get for being a blonde gringa). One man stopped and gave the viejita money and managed to talk to her enough for me that we found out the name of the person with whom she lives. She was lost.
I told her I would go buy another pair of shoes that would fit better, and I thought I could perhaps find a taxi so that she could ride to her home although I still didn´t know where she lived. (There was no way she was walking home.) I went back the same store where the woman was very helpful although quite dumbfounded by my requests. I also wandered around until I found a taxi, but he left without coming to the old lady since he expected us to walk to him. I brought the second pair of shoes to her and placed them on her feet. They fit. Then, I told her I would go find another taxi, hoping that she´d be able to point out to the driver where she lived even if she didn´t remember the name. I wandered around to the center of town and found a taxi. When he saw the woman, he said that he had seen her before, and she hadn´t seemed to know where she lived. He suggested that I call the police to help her and left. I don´t know how to call the police here. Go figure.
When I came back to her, she had begun walking again--without wearing the shoes. She said they hurt her foot too much, but she was happy to carry them. One of the men from the family where I live came over at this point and started talking to the lady and to me, trying to find out what was going on. It is pretty crazy for a tall, pale, blonde gringa to be holding the hand of a wrinkled old lady in indigenous clothing, with no shoes, no teeth, and a cane. People stopped and asked if I knew her. People stopped and asked what I was doing. No one really stuck around to help though. The man from the house managed to find out from the old lady which barrio she lived in. It was located very far away--45 minutes by bus. How this shoeless, little old woman made it to Calvary from her home 45 minutes away is beyond me. The man got a taxi for us and told me that the taxi could take us to the bus, which could then take her home.
The taxi driver was very talkative. He asked all kinds of questions about me and wanted me to marry him so that he could go to the US. Ha ha. No thank you. He helped us find the bus, but he dropped us off across a four-way stop. While this normally wouldn´t have been a problem for me (how often do I take walking for granted?!), it was a painstakingly long walk for the abuelita. We were in the middle of the market, and as we crossed the street at a snail´s pace, I felt all eyes on us. I was so afraid that the bus was going to leave before we got there even as I could see it, but it didn´t. I helped her climb up the stairs and walked her to her seat. As we hobbled by, everyone on the bus whispered, ´´Pobrecita! Mira la gringita con la viejita!´´ or ´´Poor thing! Look at the little white girl with the little old lady!´´ It astounds me that everyone will offer a word of sympathy, but how many would have passed her without a bit of action? And how had I almost passed her without taking on her burden as my own? I gave her the shoes, the food she´d been carrying, and money for her bus fare. She gave me a beautiful, gummy grin, and I stooped to hug her and kiss her on her cheek. She kissed me back and mumbled a string of thankful, joyful words that I still didn´t understand. I left her on the bus, assured by the driver that she was going to right place, and I walked home fighting tears.
I saw Jesus in that little old woman in a way that I have never seen Him in someone else before. As I stooped in front of her, cupping her crusty, swollen feet in my hands, I felt so humbled that God had allowed this woman to cross my path just to show me that the love of God is folly--a joyous, beautiful folly! And what if I would have kept walking? What if I would have been too embarrassed to turn around and talk to the abuelita? What if I would have ignored her just as I ignored that little boy who only wanted to know the time? We got stares. We got whispers. We got yells and whistles. We got all kinds of attention, and I was thought to be quite crazy. But the love of God is folly, and how humbling a privilege that He let me experience the wonder of His folly through this little old woman?
Just as the Indian poem states, only God can open a blossom. Only God can work in the hearts of others, but He calls us to be the vessel of love and to plant the seed so there is something for Him to lead to blossoming. He calls us to this love even when it costs us our pride, our time, and our sense of self-protection. Lámour de Dieu est folie!
Embracing the folly,
Sarah
Well, after losing the first version of this post, perhaps you´ll get a more direct version this time. I feel as if I don´t even know where to begin. Today has been unbelievable and so God-directed.
The day began with much dying. I have been praying for a long time that God would teach me how to love--and so He is, through a situation that has caused me much vulnerability and has required much painful, obedient honesty, leading to many tears in the process.
I remember marveling at Alvin´s supernatural love the first time we ever did street ministry with him a few years ago. He loves those kids and pours his life out for them even as they reject him and his invitation for a better life. He has known some of those kids for 13 years and still has yet to see a change in their lifestyles. His love for them knows no conditions. He doesn´t withhold love from them even though they continue to reject a better life and continue to sell their bodies in prostitution, still are high on glue, or refuse to believe that God has better for them (even though Alvin is demonstrating His love right in front of their faces). Alvin loves in the face of rejection, and to me, this is real love.
Real love goes hand-in-hand with truth and obedience. It is easy to love and tell the truth when it is acceptable to the situation, when it doesn´t cost us anything, or when it is reciprocated and believed. It is wildly difficult to love obediently when we´re rejected, made to look stupid, or when it costs us our pride. It is difficult to tell the truth when we know that there is a high probability that it is a painful truth or a truth that no one else will believe.
God has been dealing with me about my pride. It is one of those things that desperately needs to die in me so that I can have a humble heart. I have such a pride in my own self-sufficiency, in my ability to be independent, in my capacity to protect myself from vulnerability and to be untouchable. One mild example of this happened yesterday, and while I don´t know that it bothered the other girls, it crushed me. We three teachers were walking in Esperanza when we passed a young boy who said something to us in Spanish. On a regular basis, we get yelled at, hissed at, kissed at, harrassed, etc. by males of all ages. Thus, it has become our habit to just ignore everyone because it is impossible to know the intentions of the other person. We don´t want to send an invitation just by being polite. In this case as well, we kept walking, ignoring the boy. It wasn´t until we passed him that I realized what his question was--What time is it? I was devastated and convicted that I had literally refused to give someone the time of day simply as a means of protecting myself. It was a terrible realization and made me understand that there is no need for me to ignore anyone. God is fully capable of protecting me from any results of a kind hello. I don´t think Jesus ignored anyone, and I shouldn´t either.
So, as I said, God has been dealing with me in regard to pride. I don´t like being vulnerable. I hate it because I feel exposed. Real love always requires vulnerability though as well as transparency and obedience. I was just pouring out my heart to God earlier today, whining about how I felt embarrassed and humiliated, rejected and used, and in the midst of my brokenness, He reminded me--the love of God is folly. God led me to my old journal and my entries from early May before I left. I had been reading The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning and included the following excerpt:
Don´t try to feel anything, think anything, or do anything. With all the goodwill in the world you cannot make anything happen. Don´t force prayer. Simply relax in the presence of the God you half believe in and ask for a touch of folly.
An Indian poem by Tagore:
No, it is not yours to open buds to blossom,
Shake the bud, strike it,
It is beyond your power to make it blossom.
Your touch soils it.
You tear its petals to pieces and strew them into the dust,
But no colors appear and no perfume.
Oh, it is not for you to open the bud into blossom!
He who can open the bud does it so simply.
He gives it a glance and the life sap stirs through its veins.
At his breath the flower spreads its wings
And flutters in the wind.
Colors flash out like heart longing, the perfume betrays a sweet secret.
He who can open the bud does it so simply.
Lámour de Dieu est folie! -- The love of God is folly.
The following day, I aptly had pasted the following fortune from a fortune cookie as a good reminder: The greatest risk is not taking one.
That word, folly, means ´´the state or quality of being foolish; stupidity; a lack of good sense.´´ Operating in the real love of God often means that we are going to look stupid to the world. We´re supposed to look like idiots when we´re walking in God´s obedient love. God brought me to the story of Noah to remind me of this. Naturally, Noah looked stupid while he was being obedient and building the ark out of love for God. But, what interested me more was the folly of God and His love in that story. The whole reason for the flood was that all of God´s creation was full of evil except for Noah. God had painstakingly taken time to create human beings in His image to love Him and serve Him, and all but one and his family were living selfishly and disobeying. He had lovingly poured life into humans, and none of them except Noah and his family loved Him back. In the world´s terms, doesn´t that make God look stupid, rejected, humiliated? Yet, God was not embarrassed; He just decided to start over with the one family that did love Him.
Thus, with all of these revelations in mind and a new prayer in my heart that God would give me a touch of folly, I set out for the center of town to go here, to the internet cafe. I got a mere three or four houses down when I saw an old woman dressed in indigenous clothes walking laboriously with a cane--and she had no shoes. There is a split second of time when we see the struggle of another person when we assess how involved we are willing to be--is this their problem or am I willing to make it mine? For a few seconds, I kept walking, thinking, deciding, and thoughts of my own shoes flooded my head. I turned around. I began talking to the old lady who had one solitary tooth hanging from her gums, and I couldn´t understand a word of what she was saying although she understood me. I asked her if I could buy her a pair of shoes. I offered mine, but as she was a tiny woman, they would have been huge on her. She agreed to sit and wait on the sidewalk while I bought her a pair of shoes. I hustled off with a mission, not knowing exactly where I would fine a pair.
I went to the closest store I found and ran into the sixth grade teacher from Chiligatoro. The look that she gave me as I bought a tiny pair of shoes (that obviously wouldn´t fit me) was priceless, and I began to sense the beauty of folly. I took the shoes back to the woman and knelt before her, placing them on her filthy feet. One of them fit, but the other did not--her foot was swollen, and she was suffering immense pain. As I was talking to her, numerous people were passing by and staring (more than the usual stares I get for being a blonde gringa). One man stopped and gave the viejita money and managed to talk to her enough for me that we found out the name of the person with whom she lives. She was lost.
I told her I would go buy another pair of shoes that would fit better, and I thought I could perhaps find a taxi so that she could ride to her home although I still didn´t know where she lived. (There was no way she was walking home.) I went back the same store where the woman was very helpful although quite dumbfounded by my requests. I also wandered around until I found a taxi, but he left without coming to the old lady since he expected us to walk to him. I brought the second pair of shoes to her and placed them on her feet. They fit. Then, I told her I would go find another taxi, hoping that she´d be able to point out to the driver where she lived even if she didn´t remember the name. I wandered around to the center of town and found a taxi. When he saw the woman, he said that he had seen her before, and she hadn´t seemed to know where she lived. He suggested that I call the police to help her and left. I don´t know how to call the police here. Go figure.
When I came back to her, she had begun walking again--without wearing the shoes. She said they hurt her foot too much, but she was happy to carry them. One of the men from the family where I live came over at this point and started talking to the lady and to me, trying to find out what was going on. It is pretty crazy for a tall, pale, blonde gringa to be holding the hand of a wrinkled old lady in indigenous clothing, with no shoes, no teeth, and a cane. People stopped and asked if I knew her. People stopped and asked what I was doing. No one really stuck around to help though. The man from the house managed to find out from the old lady which barrio she lived in. It was located very far away--45 minutes by bus. How this shoeless, little old woman made it to Calvary from her home 45 minutes away is beyond me. The man got a taxi for us and told me that the taxi could take us to the bus, which could then take her home.
The taxi driver was very talkative. He asked all kinds of questions about me and wanted me to marry him so that he could go to the US. Ha ha. No thank you. He helped us find the bus, but he dropped us off across a four-way stop. While this normally wouldn´t have been a problem for me (how often do I take walking for granted?!), it was a painstakingly long walk for the abuelita. We were in the middle of the market, and as we crossed the street at a snail´s pace, I felt all eyes on us. I was so afraid that the bus was going to leave before we got there even as I could see it, but it didn´t. I helped her climb up the stairs and walked her to her seat. As we hobbled by, everyone on the bus whispered, ´´Pobrecita! Mira la gringita con la viejita!´´ or ´´Poor thing! Look at the little white girl with the little old lady!´´ It astounds me that everyone will offer a word of sympathy, but how many would have passed her without a bit of action? And how had I almost passed her without taking on her burden as my own? I gave her the shoes, the food she´d been carrying, and money for her bus fare. She gave me a beautiful, gummy grin, and I stooped to hug her and kiss her on her cheek. She kissed me back and mumbled a string of thankful, joyful words that I still didn´t understand. I left her on the bus, assured by the driver that she was going to right place, and I walked home fighting tears.
I saw Jesus in that little old woman in a way that I have never seen Him in someone else before. As I stooped in front of her, cupping her crusty, swollen feet in my hands, I felt so humbled that God had allowed this woman to cross my path just to show me that the love of God is folly--a joyous, beautiful folly! And what if I would have kept walking? What if I would have been too embarrassed to turn around and talk to the abuelita? What if I would have ignored her just as I ignored that little boy who only wanted to know the time? We got stares. We got whispers. We got yells and whistles. We got all kinds of attention, and I was thought to be quite crazy. But the love of God is folly, and how humbling a privilege that He let me experience the wonder of His folly through this little old woman?
Just as the Indian poem states, only God can open a blossom. Only God can work in the hearts of others, but He calls us to be the vessel of love and to plant the seed so there is something for Him to lead to blossoming. He calls us to this love even when it costs us our pride, our time, and our sense of self-protection. Lámour de Dieu est folie!
Embracing the folly,
Sarah
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thrilled to Tears
Hello All,
Today has been a phenomenal day. I have just had unspeakable joy. I don´t even know if I can find the words to express how good God is to me. Teaching went very well today. It was Lindsay´s last day, and we will miss her and her help in teaching. We got out of teaching early, so we decided to go visit Astrid, the other volunteer who works construction.
To walk to the house where she works, we had to walk around the pond in Chiligatoro. The ground was rather soft, and we had to cross a small ditch where water was running. I could have jumped over it to the other side, but there were some boards spread across it. So, I decided to risk the boards. As soon as I stepped, it fell through, and I went with it. It was hilarious. Only one leg fell in the pond, and for the rest of the morning, I walked around with one dry shoe and dry leg and one wet shoe and wet leg. And, oddly enough, this odd occurrence filled me with a lingering laughter and joy that I can´t explain.
Visiting with the family where Astrid works was so precious. We just walked right onto their land with no prior permission, and the older woman immediately served us coffee. We had never met her before in our lives, but she dropped everything to make us feel at home. This is why I love this country. Everyone treats you as family. It is humbling and such a blessing. That is how I want to live my life. I want my home to be a refuge for anyone. I want to treat everyone who crosses my path as family. There were also two small children at the house, and as I was talking to them, they began to laugh for no explicable reason. I thought perhaps I had said something wrong or just looked funny--I probably did. But, at any rate, I started laughing as well to the point of tearing up, and the children just belly laughed in return. It was a moment of pure, God-given joy and such a God-orchestrated melody.
This morning, I was journaling about part of that Mother Theresa book and what someone said about her:
Whenever I met Mother, all self-consciousness left me. I felt right away at ease: she radiated peace and joy. . .
I just started telling God that that is how I want people to feel around me. I want to radiate a sense of home and acceptance to everyone. I just want to be a beacon of His love and joy.
Anyway, we returned to La Esperanza on the back of a giant truck carrying two pieces of lumber. As I sat, muddy and wet, bouncing around with the two boards, I couldn´t get over how peacefully at home I felt. Like I belonged in that moment, on that truck, with wind blowing my untamed hair, and a smile just enveloping my face for the entire ride. This is home.
For lunch today, we ventured to the market. I absolutely love the market. Everything you could possibly want is there, being sold my local vendors. There are families visiting and selling together, people eating, and just an overall sense of camaraderie. We wandered to a place that sold food such as baleadas and the like. It was a lovely group of people, and I enjoyed the food very much.
I also love the things that I am learning from my fellow volunteers. Astrid is a hard worker--she makes it a point to stay longer than she has to in order to accomplish more construction. Tina, although she doesn´t speak much Spanish, speaks the universal language of kids. She plays with any kid that crosses her path. In the market today, she had one little boy belly laughing so hard that everyone around him caught his joy. It was beautiful. Maricruz, the Cuban woman, is very no-nonsense but also so helpful to all those she comes in contact with. She chatters away in Spanish to strangers fearlessly. I love this about her. Where we ate lunch, there was a woman who was crying in one of the food vendor stalls. Maricruz saw her and immediately asked her what was wrong. The woman told her that her eight-year-old son was in the hospital getting his appendix removed. She was crying because she was worried about him (he´s in a hospital in Comayagua, roughly 3 hours from here) and wanted to be with him. Maricruz assured her that her son would be fine, and she promised to pray for her son, Axel. She told the woman to have faith in God. I love the boldness of this woman and her willingness to thrust herself into the lives and struggles of others. I want just such a willing heart that is outgoing in the same way. I would also ask that all of you pray for Axel as well and for the peace of his mother.
Anyway, I am finally here--at the internet cafe. I was reading my e-mail and got an update on my bill from Shepherd from my mom. While there´s no real need to go into too many details, let me just say that God has been so faithful in financial provision that it brings me to tears. He provides such an overabundance that I can´t begin to fathom the depth of His love for me, His child. Trusting Him makes life so very sweet.
Meanwhile, my family was able to visit with Alvin and his family today in Gap Mills, West Virginia. It was such a blessing to hear both from Alvin and from my family about what a wonderful time they had. The family of God is so very beautiful. I love that it knows no boundaries.
With unspeakable joy,
Sarah
Today has been a phenomenal day. I have just had unspeakable joy. I don´t even know if I can find the words to express how good God is to me. Teaching went very well today. It was Lindsay´s last day, and we will miss her and her help in teaching. We got out of teaching early, so we decided to go visit Astrid, the other volunteer who works construction.
To walk to the house where she works, we had to walk around the pond in Chiligatoro. The ground was rather soft, and we had to cross a small ditch where water was running. I could have jumped over it to the other side, but there were some boards spread across it. So, I decided to risk the boards. As soon as I stepped, it fell through, and I went with it. It was hilarious. Only one leg fell in the pond, and for the rest of the morning, I walked around with one dry shoe and dry leg and one wet shoe and wet leg. And, oddly enough, this odd occurrence filled me with a lingering laughter and joy that I can´t explain.
Visiting with the family where Astrid works was so precious. We just walked right onto their land with no prior permission, and the older woman immediately served us coffee. We had never met her before in our lives, but she dropped everything to make us feel at home. This is why I love this country. Everyone treats you as family. It is humbling and such a blessing. That is how I want to live my life. I want my home to be a refuge for anyone. I want to treat everyone who crosses my path as family. There were also two small children at the house, and as I was talking to them, they began to laugh for no explicable reason. I thought perhaps I had said something wrong or just looked funny--I probably did. But, at any rate, I started laughing as well to the point of tearing up, and the children just belly laughed in return. It was a moment of pure, God-given joy and such a God-orchestrated melody.
This morning, I was journaling about part of that Mother Theresa book and what someone said about her:
Whenever I met Mother, all self-consciousness left me. I felt right away at ease: she radiated peace and joy. . .
I just started telling God that that is how I want people to feel around me. I want to radiate a sense of home and acceptance to everyone. I just want to be a beacon of His love and joy.
Anyway, we returned to La Esperanza on the back of a giant truck carrying two pieces of lumber. As I sat, muddy and wet, bouncing around with the two boards, I couldn´t get over how peacefully at home I felt. Like I belonged in that moment, on that truck, with wind blowing my untamed hair, and a smile just enveloping my face for the entire ride. This is home.
For lunch today, we ventured to the market. I absolutely love the market. Everything you could possibly want is there, being sold my local vendors. There are families visiting and selling together, people eating, and just an overall sense of camaraderie. We wandered to a place that sold food such as baleadas and the like. It was a lovely group of people, and I enjoyed the food very much.
I also love the things that I am learning from my fellow volunteers. Astrid is a hard worker--she makes it a point to stay longer than she has to in order to accomplish more construction. Tina, although she doesn´t speak much Spanish, speaks the universal language of kids. She plays with any kid that crosses her path. In the market today, she had one little boy belly laughing so hard that everyone around him caught his joy. It was beautiful. Maricruz, the Cuban woman, is very no-nonsense but also so helpful to all those she comes in contact with. She chatters away in Spanish to strangers fearlessly. I love this about her. Where we ate lunch, there was a woman who was crying in one of the food vendor stalls. Maricruz saw her and immediately asked her what was wrong. The woman told her that her eight-year-old son was in the hospital getting his appendix removed. She was crying because she was worried about him (he´s in a hospital in Comayagua, roughly 3 hours from here) and wanted to be with him. Maricruz assured her that her son would be fine, and she promised to pray for her son, Axel. She told the woman to have faith in God. I love the boldness of this woman and her willingness to thrust herself into the lives and struggles of others. I want just such a willing heart that is outgoing in the same way. I would also ask that all of you pray for Axel as well and for the peace of his mother.
Anyway, I am finally here--at the internet cafe. I was reading my e-mail and got an update on my bill from Shepherd from my mom. While there´s no real need to go into too many details, let me just say that God has been so faithful in financial provision that it brings me to tears. He provides such an overabundance that I can´t begin to fathom the depth of His love for me, His child. Trusting Him makes life so very sweet.
Meanwhile, my family was able to visit with Alvin and his family today in Gap Mills, West Virginia. It was such a blessing to hear both from Alvin and from my family about what a wonderful time they had. The family of God is so very beautiful. I love that it knows no boundaries.
With unspeakable joy,
Sarah
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Walter
Hello All,
There´s not a whole of new things to report. Teaching went well although we had some crazy students today. I so love my students even when they make teaching difficult. I hope that when I move to Honduras that I will be able to come back and visit all of them, and I´d like to bring Roy as well. (He´s always saying that he wishes he could watch me teach just to see my behavior, etc.)
I received a love note from one of my students today--a precious fourth grade boy named Walter. It was so sweet and made my whole day.
Meanwhile, I miss Tegus and all that I associate with my beloved home. I had a missed call from Mamí Sara this morning, so I called her back and for just the few minutes we were on the phone, I felt a little closer to home. I know that I am here in Esperanza for a reason, and I am grateful for the time that I get to be here. I am getting more attached to the place and adopting it as more of my own. Every day, I get more a glimpse of the realization that it won´t be much longer before I live in Honduras. I love this revelation because although I have said for many years now that I will be moving to Honduras, the reality of that truth only sinks in every so often. I so long for roots and permanence. I long to drive my tent pegs deep as it says in Isaiah. I long for this place to no longer just be home in name but also home in action. All in good time, I know. Once again, the reality of how difficult it is going to be to leave yet again is unbelievable. I underestimate it every time, and it gets harder every time. Leaving Honduras leaves me so broken, but it´s a brokenness that I know is of God. And, I just want His best; thus, I welcome the brokenness even when it leads me to embarrassing laugh-cries. Ha ha.
With love and deep sighs,
Sarah
There´s not a whole of new things to report. Teaching went well although we had some crazy students today. I so love my students even when they make teaching difficult. I hope that when I move to Honduras that I will be able to come back and visit all of them, and I´d like to bring Roy as well. (He´s always saying that he wishes he could watch me teach just to see my behavior, etc.)
I received a love note from one of my students today--a precious fourth grade boy named Walter. It was so sweet and made my whole day.
Meanwhile, I miss Tegus and all that I associate with my beloved home. I had a missed call from Mamí Sara this morning, so I called her back and for just the few minutes we were on the phone, I felt a little closer to home. I know that I am here in Esperanza for a reason, and I am grateful for the time that I get to be here. I am getting more attached to the place and adopting it as more of my own. Every day, I get more a glimpse of the realization that it won´t be much longer before I live in Honduras. I love this revelation because although I have said for many years now that I will be moving to Honduras, the reality of that truth only sinks in every so often. I so long for roots and permanence. I long to drive my tent pegs deep as it says in Isaiah. I long for this place to no longer just be home in name but also home in action. All in good time, I know. Once again, the reality of how difficult it is going to be to leave yet again is unbelievable. I underestimate it every time, and it gets harder every time. Leaving Honduras leaves me so broken, but it´s a brokenness that I know is of God. And, I just want His best; thus, I welcome the brokenness even when it leads me to embarrassing laugh-cries. Ha ha.
With love and deep sighs,
Sarah
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