Magnolia Tree

First day of teaching went well.  I only had two of my four classes, though--Level 4 and Math 4.  Since we added an extra section of leveled English, we had a mini-assembly on the soccer field for all of the kids in these classes to learn who their new teacher is.  Even though I know all but two of my students, I had them write five things about themselves.  This gave me an opportunity to see their writing skills, and it's a good listening exercise for them to hear the sentences and try to guess who wrote them.  We also practiced appropriate behavior (stay in seat, raise hand, do your own work, etc.).  I think I'll enjoy this bunch.

My math kids are mostly struggling English speakers.  However, it's a small group at 7, so I'm excited about the opportunity to work with them on their language skills in addition to going over math concepts with them.  Pam found some mini chalkboards--tomorrow we'll use them to rework some problems we missed today.

I am also testing first and second graders on things like counting, greater than/less than, and weeks/months/days of the year.  I think I enjoy these younguns on this one-on-one basis (rather trying to teach an entire class of them).

Tomorrow, I hope to start teaching sixth and junior high.  Mostly introduction stuff with an assignment to help me assess their current skills will be on the docket.

Checked out another car today--a Cherry QQ.  It's a cute car, lime green, few miles, a little more expensive than the others, but decent.  Also stick-shift.  Even with all my lessons, I don't know that I'm quite ready for the curvy carretera in a manual car.

Precious moment of the day:
I sat observing third grade science since I hope to be of assistance from time to time in this class.  Students busily worked drawing a picture of plants, one plant that had enough water and one plant that did not.  The teacher walked around the room, checking in with students about their drawings.  Apparently she asked Jefy what kind of plant he was drawing.  "A magnolia!" he yelled out in his confident, high-pitched voice.  He then shot me a toothy grin, which I nearly missed.  Ah, yes, a magnolia tree--from our readings about Annie and Jack.  We had a brief discussion two nights ago about magnolias and their beautiful white flowers.  Evidently this trivial information had not been forgotten.

Personally, today was a bit of a sad day.  A little homesick, I suppose.  Also quite tired.  Hoping for a good night's rest tonight!

A High-Energy Evening in the Children's Home

"Jack! Jack! Hurry up!" Annie said.

"Is he still there?" Jack panted.  He ran up the hill as fast as he could.

No, we're not talking Titanic here (though we seriously did belt out a couple of rounds of "My Heart Will Go On" tonight.  Geovany is a kid after my own heart).  It's something akin to the text in one of the Magic Tree House series, and tonight we're on an adventure in Dinosaur Land with seven and eight-year-olds Annie and Jack.  I'm reading Annie in a high-pitched voice that makes Jefy look at me from time to time with a big smile--he's evidently delighted but not quite sure what to make of it.  He chimes in as Jack.  We switch turns reading the narration, something I suggested since we're on reading #2 of the chapter book.  Jefy reads extremely well, conveying expressive intonation with the dialogue and tackling most of the pronunciation correctly.

Two pages til the end of the book, we're distracted by an opportunity to play Dutch Blitz.   Shortly after, Pam (aka Mommy) walks in to take a few kids back to the apartment for a discussion.  Gerson and Lupita go with her.  They don't know it yet, but they get to go to the movies tomorrow, potentially seeing Toy Story 3.  It's a reward for doing their chores two days in a row without being asked.  It's a little experiment Pam and Zucy decided to do, seeing if the kids would maintain their daily responsibilities without being reminded.  I think five of the 20 kids received the reward.

On the table next to us, the nine-year-old boys are playing the card game Sleeping Princesses.  I can't pick up on it by watching.  Of course, after looking after Carlos's shoulder, I'm pretty sure they were all cheating as he rifled through the stack to pick one of the better cards--the magic wand. They end their game with ear-deafening cries of "I won!"  "No, I won!" "Just lay the cards here!" and "Quiet!" 

Teenager Brenda plays DJ, turning the dial from Spanish rock to Reggaeton-sounding to English stations.  The fork antennae is periodically adjusted.  Nothing funnier than hearing eight-year-old Steven belt out the opening lines to a pop tune about girlfriends.  Sammy and I discuss favorite artists (yeah, okay--not a topic I'm well-versed in, but Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" isn't too bad, right?), and the rewarded kids return.

Then Carlos brings out his yarn ball and bounces it off walls and other people.  Perfect analogy for his state of being at the moment. I confiscate it for a minute and stick it on the fridge and eventually in his room, though he continues to accuse me of having it on my person until I prove to him it's on his dresser box.  By now, Brenda is snoozing on the couch.  They're up later tonight since there is no school tomorrow.  Several girls come in from watching a movie in the meeting room, and I take my cue to head out, a little curious how the nannies will corral them.  I think someone fed them sugar pills tonight...of course, having no school the next day does that to you, too. :)

A Saturday in Guatemala

One of the student's fathers, who is a mechanic, showed me two car possibilities today.  One is a Toyota and the other a Nissan; both are manuals (thank goodness for stick-shift driving lessons, though I was too scared to try driving them today!).  Both also have cracked windshields and are over 150,000 miles.  The Toyota has new tires and looks decent on the outside; the inside is a little rough but manageable.  It also has a nice radio.  The Nissan is a couple years newer and looks better overall.  It's a four door instead of two; this one has no radio, which could be good since that is a commonly robbed item. They sound like they run well.  I hope to look at another option later this week.  I'm starting to think that my car choice may be dependent on my living situation and it's likelihood of being broken into.  Honestly, though, I don't know how I can really judge that.  Here's to praying about it.

Met with Pam today about English curriculum.  We had a good discussion for two hours about our observations and my suggestions.  We made a game plan of what to do next and also figured out my schedule.  I'm excited about it!  I'll teach Level 4 English, 4th grade math, 6th grade English, and Basico English (junior high).  Suits me well.  Additionally, I'll be observing/collaborating in the K-3 science classes and helping with oral math exams for grades K-2. 

The other two ideas I'm excited about are the Conversation Cafe and the English Life Activity (I really need a new name for this--any suggestions?).  The CC will take place during lunch, and it's purpose is to give kids opportunity to practice informal English in a loosely structured manner.  Pam suggested we reward students for their participation by giving them a slip to prove their attendance that allows them to earn extra credit in English class.  The English Life Activity is based on the Reality Store idea I've seen done at Dunbar the past few years.  Basically, we'll have a day where students will come with their class to live life English style--they'll have to take care of business, entertainment, and family issues in English only. I'm thinking we'll have a cafe, a bank, a school, a movie theater, a game center, and other booths where students will have to practice their skills.  Since the demand for English speakers will be high to run this activity, we thought it would be good to do when a group was here.  Pam thinks there's a group coming in September who will be perfect for the task.  So, now it's time to plan it!

Gosh, I always mean for blog entries to be short, but it is not to be tonight.  The last thing to share is that tonight I was able to participate in a small group Bible study.  Several families meet here on Saturday evenings.  They played a couple of games, prayed for each other (and me), studied a lesson about the 4th spiritual law, and ate.  It was refreshing and so familiar to be around a group of people who meet together because they love Jesus and each other and desire to learn more about their relationship with him.  While I didn't feel particularly comfortable with my Spanish tonight and thus didn't speak much with the adults, I ended up playing rummy with some teenage girls.  They were elated to play with me and put up with my terrible Spanish grammar and vocab as I gave them instructions.  It was good.  I look forward to seeing these same girls again when I visit Hermana Dora's house on Wednesday since there is no school that day.

I'm missing dancing this weekend.  I'm also missing my conversation buddies.  Distance from friends and family is more noticeable when time moves slower, as it is this evening.  It's been a while since I've had to figure out what to do with myself!

Teacher Day at Colegio La Senda

I made it just in time for Teacher's Day in Guatemala.  The students and teachers were kind enough to include me even though I haven't officially started teaching yet.  This means a few gifts from the students and a magnificent lunch provided by Director Zucy and Principal Frida.  Anita's sixth grade class was also in charge of today's Civics Day assembly, and they tagged on a ceremony in the guise of a TV recognition show, cameraman and all.  Since the lunch was relaxed, I had good opportunity to speak with and get to know a couple of the teachers.

Student snapshots:

Even PreK kids are great at showing their personality.  While drawing their fish and fish skeletons today, one little boy added ferocious fangs to his fish while a little girl added long eyelashes to hers.  Another insisted his was not a fish but a shark.

Pool Party!

The home children have enjoyed splashing around in a place where bushes used to be planted.  They were charged with cleaning out the muddy water first, which they did with glee to achieve their ultimate goal: a clean mini-pool.

Wagner arrived home from Bible school for a half-week visit on Wednesday.  He and his friend have both taken turns leading the afternoon devotional for the older home kids.  What a cool thing to see how he has matured and grown in just a year since I've been away.

Recess time continues to amaze me.  They have one soccer field, but there are always at least two soccer games going on simultaneously.  The little ones have their own, and they run in and out and around the older students' game.

Dorcas showed me her room and all the changes she's made to it this last year.  Jonas Brothers still play a prominent role in her decor, though Justin Bieber is making his way into things.

The Other English teachers and me

Living Space and Security

Checked out two more living spaces today with Pam.  One is in Sumpango with a family of five.  It is a three story house in the middle of the city.  I would have my own room and bath, and they would agree to provide food as well.  It has a great view of the city from the third floor. :)  This one looks like a great chance to really learn how native Guatemalans live.  The only negative is that if I buy a car, I would have to park down the street and around a corner since the streets are so narrow.  Security becomes a concern, especially driving and walking down the street at night.  However, this family has offered the most economical rate so far.

The other place is in a little neighborhood close to La Senda.  It is probably the most similar to our idea of suburban housing I've seen in Guate.  It is in a gated community with a guard.  The family has two small children.  There would be a place to park a car, and they too would provide meals.  This house, however, would cost twice as much and does not include a private bath. 

I hope to decide by Wednesday since a group will be coming early in July and could use my current living space; also, I need to let the families know if I accept their offer or not.

Thinking about people's safety in Guatemala overwhelmed me with sadness today.  It is pretty much expected that everyone will be robbed at some point (if not multiple times).  In the States, being robbed is a big deal, at least where I've lived (Walmart purse snatchers, anyone?).  Here it seems like it's nothing but an "oh, that's too bad" when someone's business is completely liquidated by robbers.  Not to say that people don't care--it's certainly sad and upsetting--but it doesn't seem to come as a surprise.  This realization gives new meaning to the verse, "Some trust in chariots and some trust in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God" (Psalm 20: 7). Sure, they have guards and gates (horses and chariots) here, and while they provide some sense of security to those who live behind them, they don't necessarily rely on them because they can't. God truly is the only source of security for those who believe in Him.

How does a society overcome this constant threat from its own?  Why do people have to live like this?  I am aware of it here, yet I know that here is not the only place this is common.  I also have lots of ready-made answers, but they don't seem to help too much with the practical application.  So, what does this mean for me? 

Bloggets (Not!): Guatemala: Day 3

Snippets* from the past few days:

Traveled to Chimaltenango to check out living spaces.  Picture this: Toyota van, white.  Driver with baby in his lap; baby has full control of cell phone.  Passengers: Two little boys stand next to the window, letting the wind tussle their hair.  One third grader quietly sitting.  Two university boys home for break, excited about going to the mall.  Two teenage girls anticipating their first drama/choir rehearsal at church.  Three teachers who are curious about one of the homes I'm visiting and so have decided to come along.  And me, up there in the front bench seat, next to the window.  I'm pretty sure we could be a children's book somewhere--maybe a counting one?

And the houses?  Looked decent.  I'm not committing yet because there are a couple more places to check out.  The first is with a family with three boys and one ferocious street dog-turned-pet.  The second, which I didn't know I was visiting until we had an hour to kill and one of the teachers knows the lady, is more like a boarding house for international volunteers.  The advantage to both:  they are in the middle of a city with a few teachers I know relatively close by.

As for the rest of that hour to kill, Miss Zucy invited me to her in-laws' restaurant where she made a beeline for the back kitchen.  There, they made me dinner, which was delicious.  Eggs with salsa, black beans, corn tortillas with cheese between them (quesadilla style, only smaller), and coffee.  It was also the first meal I've eaten with a Guatemalan family in their home.  Grandparents at opposite ends of the table, Miss Zucy across from me and later her husband to my left, two of her four children flanking her.  A large, wood-burning stove sat in the corner; a huge bowl of beans and a basket of eggs sat on the middle counter; a window for customers to order and pay took up a portion of the left wall.  Conversation was good.  Mind you, it was all in Spanish, and mine is not strong.  Periodically I would say something, and they would laugh and repeat it as if no one had heard me the first time.  Maybe one day I'll learn why they were laughing. Regardless, it felt really good to be with them.  Their hospitality is much appreciated.

The school days have been good as well.  Today I continued observing, though I worked more on talking with the students and trying to get them to explain to me in English what they were learning as well as review some concepts with the kids.  This is helping me roughly place where their English levels are.  I've enjoyed talking with the English teachers, too, to get their take on what they think could be improved about the curriculum. My goodness, I feel like those scary FBI Agent-esque walk-through people. I don't think I'm scary, though.

Thanks to everyone who has responded to my e-mails requesting information and advice.  I'm looking at relying on the SIOP model to guide the way I plan and my suggestions for the other teachers.  I'm thinking of pulling a bit from Kylene Beers and other reading and writing greats for some vocab lesson ideas.  I also looked at the TESOL website today to try to find some ESL standards, which they have.  I'm thinking of writing them to receive permission to use their standards as standards for the school since I'm not sure the English program currently has specific standards.  I need to check into this tomorrow.

Thanks, too, for your continued prayers.  Wisdom and ideas for this new curriculum are much needed right now.  Also, Pam wants me to revamp and rearrange the schedule as necessary.  This is probably what I feel least uncertain about given that I have never worked with scheduling and feel that making changes like this is a huge responsibility.  Please pray, too, for housing and a car.  How do I decide which living situation is best?

Much love,
E.

*P.S.--I will have to try bloggets another day since this is an epic fail at being concise.

Bienvenida! (Guatemala: Day 1)

Nothing like the view from a plane window to remind us of how small we really are.  As I peered out from the last rows of the planes today--yes, the rows right in front of the bathrooms, though it turned out not to be a bad deal--I marvelled at how much the view really does look like those replicas model train builders create.   The earth was cast in every hue of green imaginable, neat little delineations of trees and roads cutting across the landscape.  In Cinci, the lines seemed to snake and curve, much like the river nearby; in Houston, perfect little geometrical shapes marked one field from another; in Guatemala, the land was characterized by declivities and ridges alike, winding roads cutting through trees and fields, straight ones introducing the city. And the clouds?  Brilliant white cotton, mountains high, dappling the sea beneath with dark spots, so large they could be part of make believe or Alice in Wonderland.    

Landing in Guatemala City felt familiar.  Excitement and anticipation buoyed me through the landing.  After a day of good travel--on time flights, peaceful layover, and even an empty row to sprawl across to rest (that's where being by the bathrooms pays off, I guess, on a flight not quite full)--Pam and Steve met me at the airport.  Poor Steve offered to lug all 120 pounds total of my luggage, which he may have been regretting by the time we arrived at their car.  Then, off to the mall for lunch and to the supermarket for groceries and other needed supplies.  I was also able to purchase a cell phone for a good price (much cheaper than trying to pay for Global services.  Drat my purchase of a global phone last year without knowing the ins and outs of how they try to con money from me).  After some gelato, their treat, we were off to La Senda.

After spending two months here last summer, driving here felt very comfortable.  Familiar.  Good.  The school day was over by the time I arrived, but the home children were here along with some of the teachers, and they gave me an incredibly warm welcome.  Hugs all around, help carrying my bags up to the fourth floor(again, poor Sammy and Steve!), and a nice surprise in my living quarters: they'd decorated it with streamers and a welcome sign, a balloon and flowers!  The warm welcome was just fantastic.

Tomorrow I started observing English classes with the objective of figuring out a way to help the students learn English more efficiently and effectively.  I'd appreciate prayers for wisdom, knowledge, and ideas to meet this challenge!

Where in the World is Guatemala?

Guacamole, Guadalajara, Honduras, that place down South--it's hard for others to remember exactly where I'm going.  I wasn't exactly sure which Central American country it was, either, before I went down last summer. 

Check out the map from worldatlas.com
(http://www.worldatlas.com/webimage/countrys/namerica/camerica/gt.htm).  The site also has links to history and other facts about Guatemala.  Or, click on the link in the side bar to see a Google Map of Guatemala.

Other fun facts about where I'll be staying in Sumpango, Guatemala:

• time zone is the same as Mountain Time
• flight from Houston to Guatemala City is approximately 2.5 hours
• the mountains I'll be in maintain a fairly steady temperature with highs in the 70s and lows in the 50s
• rainy season is on right now
• no Daylight Savings; it starts getting dark around 6:30 or 7:00 P.M.
• volcanoes are seen in the horizon, though most are inactive

Dancing Friday Nights Away

I walked into the studio tonight with my red flip flops on my feet, ready to change into my black, semi-strappy dance shoes.  My dress swished from side to side, perfect for fun little spins.  Once again, I was impressed by the number of people decked out in costumes: tonight, flapper dresses, little bowling hats, and suits conveyed the atmosphere of the Roaring '20s along with the shimmering streamers and Charleston-inspired dance music every now and again.

My dance instructor quickly found me to tell me his good news: an agent is interested in his book!  Thrilled, I listened to the details as he animatedly told me his plan to meet deadline.  His book-writing process has become a bit of a vicarious experience for me as I've been privileged enough to hear the full story line, listen to the soundtrack (cool idea, huh?), and read a few of the chapters to help edit.  Engrossed in the discussion of revisions, I nearly missed the call for the Viennese Waltz.  But it was the same song they play nearly every week, the one that a friend despises because it reminds him of a Merry Go-Round.  Tonight, though, I shook off the normal eye-role induced by the music and interrupted the conversation because I was on a mission: dance.

Sure enough, my Viennese Waltz instructor was in period wear and not yet taken for the dance.  Before I knew it, I was rocking with him to feel the beat and then lickety-split, off we were spinning around the dance floor.  If anything at ground level can rival flying, this dance has got to be it.  The movement is so quick, the heel step step, back step step, rotate around your partner and the dance floor all at the same time--it's exhilarating.  And tiring.  I was breathing like I'd just run for five or ten minutes when we finished, but I was glad I had made it through without causing either one of us to stumble and fall.  What a way to warm up!  I think this is my new favorite dance, even though two lessons in it doesn't quite make me a pro.

With forty-five minutes left, I was eager to dance as much as possible.  I danced the waltz with my regular instructor, the rumba with my good ol' buddy Lee (I tried to practice my Cuban hip motion), the hustle with the man who is actually a bit shorter than I am.  I was reminded while dancing the cha cha with a teenager that my Latin dances have seen little improvement lately, which was confirmed when I tried salsa with my usual waltz partner.  In between dances, it was fun to chit chat with friends, most female, since there is a shortage of men at these things.  And then, after a rough swing dance or two, the party was over. 

I'll certainly miss going every Friday night.  I just might have to search for Latin dancing in Guate.

My book-writing dance instructor

My fellow educator friends

My fellow ministry friend

(I really wanted to get more pics, but the instructor meeting was taking too long and some of my regular dance friends weren't there tonight. :(  Oh well.  Memories will work!)

Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow

Praise God from whom all blessings flow; praise Him all creatures here below; praise Him above ye heavenly host; praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

I just met with Kerry regarding financial support and how things will work with First Alliance as my sending organization.  Oh. My. Goodness.  I am in awe and completely humbled by his provision!  I have believed that God would provide for this Guatemalan Adventure, but to see it's manifestation is overwhelming and deeply appreciated.  I am currently about half way to where I need to be financially (it's slightly flexible because I'm doing my best to guesstimate my budget, but it won't be confirmed until I arrive in Guate).

Thanks to everyone who has decided to support this venture through money, prayer, and/or encouragement.  I admire your obedience and your faithfulness.  Thanks!

I continue to feel like the Lord is affirming this next step for me.  Today, it's through money; yesterday, though the ability to finally slow down and relax (and be okay with it); this last week, through the peace and sense of rightness I have while packing up my classroom, even though I feel sad at times; this last month, through people's words and actions showing me their support and love.  I am so blessed.  And all I have left to say is Praise the Lord!

Two Weeks Till Take Off

What a busy week!  With graduation, packing up my classroom, and my roommate's wedding, I really wished my body could function sans sleep.  Unfortunately, I was reminded once again that sleep is necessary.  Thankfully, I have understanding friends and finally some time to rest, so all is better. 

My roommate's wedding was awesome, by the way.  The day turned out to be sunny and perfect, and their personal touches were all throughout their day from their written vows to the old, borrowed, blue and unique brooch on Mary's bouquet.  I am so happy for Mary and Gabe!

Last minute touch ups!

First Dance!

The bridesmaids.  Yes, two are in their third trimester of pregnancy.

Me and my wonderful friend Carly!

Yay life group girls and Mary!

This week is one of completely cleaning out my classroom, packing up the house, and seeing friends.  Today I was blessed to spend time with my dancing friend Abigail, and I enjoyed my last dinner with the Tuesday night crew.  Yesterday I spent time with the Sassy Sisterhood, but it's not farewell yet since Nikki's getting married this weekend!  :) I've also been able to squeeze in a few coffee discussions. 

My friend Abigail and me--she's been a huge encouragement to me in this Guatemalan adventure!

A very serious round of Bocce ball.

Tuesday night dinner crew--view from my end of the table.

Yes, Matt and Chris are smoking Matt's birthday candles.  I have yet to understand the male species.

Tomorrow I meet with Kerry to talk about support stuff.  Looking forward to it!

Memorial Day Weekend Haikus

On stick-shift driving lessons #4 & #5:

Trust me to drive you

wherever you need to go

but not in reverse

On my sister's report on her mad egg salad/deviled egg-making skills:

"My favorite part

is popping out the yellow

inserts." Yolks, sweet sis! :)

On cookouts:

Grilled zucchini and

burgers; chips and dip; fresh fruit.

Family, friends, sun. Joy.

On the occasion:

Burning desert: dry.

Soldiers, far from home: brave.

Freedom: expensive.

Thanks to those who serve!

Transition Time

The blessing of having a zillion papers to finish grading, a room to clean up, and last-minute details to plan is that it leaves little time to think about leaving and all that nostalgia.  However, when I see something I would normally save for use next year or think about taking the MISS DAVIS letters off my classroom door, I can't help but grow a little teary-eyed.

At the same time, I've enjoyed touching base with Pam in Guatemala.  It looks like I have four living options right now that I can check out upon my arrival.  I also look forward to baby-sitting the English kids so Pam and Steve can take the home children on little trips to the country.

My friends and family continue to be generous in their support.  Thanks, guys!  Your prayers, words of encouragement, notes, and monetary support are much appreciated!  I hope to send a formal update to everyone soon.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

I'm flying to Guatemala on June 22!

A Good Shot...or Not

After going shooting on a piece of undeveloped land with my friends today, my experience and my friend LB's observations have led me to develop ten reasons why you should not hire me as a bodyguard:

1. I find picking daisies much more intriguing than playing with guns.  Let's focus on the aesthetics, not violence, people.
2. My arms are too weak to bear the weight of a rifle for very long.  This rules out the military (or a job as a sniper) as a career, I'm pretty sure.
3. I'm tired of shooting any gun after about two shots.  Really, 20 rounds in one magazine?  Yawn.
4. The stench of putrid gunpowder burns my nose and is highly distracting.  Can I protect anyone else when I'm worried about polluting my own lungs?
5. I much prefer lying in the grass and cloud-watching than shooting up targets when in a field.  Wordsworth, you are such an inspiration.
6. I quickly lose interest in analyzing the accuracy of my shooting when there are periwinkle butterflies floating around the targets.  I heart nature.
7. I'd like to keep my hearing, thank you very much.  Wearing big bulky ear protection doesn't fit my sense of style.
8. Shooting pistols almost makes me cry.  Seriously--it was a good thing I was wearing sunglasses.  It would be hard to defend anyone if I were crying at the same time.
9. My interest in learning to shoot is purely literary.  My mind goes more quickly to how I could name the parts and describe a gun than it does to using it in defense.
10. It would take me about five minutes to reload.  Last time I checked, bad guys don't usually agree to time outs.

Sure, I hit the bull's eye a couple of times (out of 200), but today confirmed what I learned last time I went shooting:  I sure have a strong distaste for it.  I might even despise it.  I pray I will never need to shoot a gun in real life.

Car Wash

After our little come-to-Jesus meeting on Tuesday, I was suddenly feeling qualms about our class service/learning project: a car wash to raise money for a local women's recovery center. 

That day, my students were discouraged, and even though we had been planning the car wash for over a month--talking about materials, making posters, and assigning tasks--they still were not convinced it was actually going to happen.

This negativity prompted an impromptu field trip.  They needed to visualize what we were doing, I decided.  Off we traipsed to the front of the school where we'd wash cars and share space with the plant sale; then on to the roadside, where we would hold signs; finally, back to the garden to appreciate the hard work of the volunteers who were working in tandem with us.

Thursday, the attitudes were markedly better. Excitement buzzed in the air.  Some students brought in soap, buckets, and sponges; others finished the signs and eagerly volunteered to sit in the cafeteria to advertise.

Today, as I scrubbed and hosed down cars with my students, I was so proud of them.  We had a steady stream of cars for two hours, and my class and other senior volunteers worked diligently to wash, rinse, and dry the vehicles.  I am so pleased with those who chose to follow through.  Granted, we had a few no-shows that I'll have to address this week, but those who were there really made it work.  Several people who stopped by were impressed that these seniors of 2010 were giving up their time for a selfless reason: "Usually car washes are for the baseball team or some other school group," commented one man.  "But it's really cool that you all are donating everything to the Hope Center."

I can't wait to hear my students' reflections in class and in their blogs this week!

Unmentionables

The bride, a good friend from work, sat up front on a yellow streamer-decorated chair.  She sat opening gifts, commenting on how much she loved them and how excited she was to receive them.  And then came the one.  You know, the one that is meant to make the bride blush. 

Out of the simple white gift bag with a few ones sticking out teasingly over the edge, my friend pulled a thong.  Then came the leopard print lingerie, matching top and bottom.  All had several ones and fives pinned to them.  We chuckled and joked and measured the degree of redness in her cheeks.

Meanwhile, a little three-year-old boy ran in and out of the room, chasing his friend.  He firmly clutched the rubber band of a giant balloon, one that had been decorated with a smiling face, square ears, and a mustache that gave the boy unending amusement.

As my friend pulled out this bridal shower present, the boy stopped in his tracks.  His eyes grew large, and his lips opened into a wide smile.  He looked at the adults in the room with a look of mischief, glancing back and forth between the gift and the adults.  We women seemed to draw in a collective sigh, not sure how this delicate situation could be explained.

"What do you see, honey?" queried his mother.  The room grew silent, ready to pop under the pressure.

The boy hardly missed a beat.  With one more glance toward the bride, he gave his excited answer:

"Money!  Did you see the money, mommy?"

Laughter.  Love wise mommies and innocent children.

Support Update

I just met with Kerry, the missions pastor at First Alliance, this afternoon, and found out that the Lord has provided $770 thus far!  Thank you so much for your faithfulness!  Many people have also committed to praying for me and encouraging me, and I am extremely grateful for your commitment.  I am so blessed to have friends and family who love and support me.

I am still hoping to leave in the middle of June, but I have yet to purchase tickets.  My roommate and I are officially out of our rented place on Monday, June 14.  I hope to be on my way by the middle/end of that week.  Thanks for your prayers regarding timing!

This weekend I look forward to another stick-shift driving lesson with my friend.  Hopefully I will soon catch the gist of transferring from the clutch to the gas in a smooth motion so I don't stall out as frequently!  Pam has highly recommended that I purchase my own vehicle for my time in Guatemala, and since most of them are stick-shift, I am receiving lessons to that end.  Steve told me there were some relatively cheap new cars--one for $5,000--that I plan to look into purchasing for my time there.

Happy Mother's Day

What a lucky girl I am to have such a wonderful mother!  We're two peas in a pod in so many ways.  Love you, Mom!  Since the fam was in town, I was able to be with them for Mother's Day lunch at Saul Good.  Great meal, great restaurant, better company.

My awesome parents

Siblings!  So glad Tina and Davey were in town

Backseat beauties (always a hoot to ride with three full-sized adults in the back seat)

Birthday

Okay, so my birthday can get better. :)  Thanks so much to my roommate and best friend for throwing me a surprise party with friends and family--many of the people I hold so near and dear to my heart were in one room tonight!  What a blessing.  Plus, my parents bought me a camera since my old one died last fall...which means I have pics to upload!

Great friends (and some yummy pies to boot!)

My dear mentor

My brother--great support

Me & the Tuesday Night Dinner Boys

The Sassy Sisterhood (Minus a couple of members--love you gals!)

Las Tres Amigas--My lovely friends and me (see my red shoes?)

I am so blessed.  Looking forward to spending Mother's Day with my mom.  More pics tomorrow with the fam, I hope!

Today's Thoughts

It's my birthday!  My family is coming down! It's sunny outside!  Can a girl ask for more?

Thought of the week, via our dear friend C.S. Lewis and his book The Weight of Glory in A Year with C.S. Lewis: "No man who values originality will ever be original.  But try to tell the truth as you see it, try to do any bit of work as well as it can be done for the work's sake, and what men call originality will come unsought."  Hmmm.  Time to be intentionally me, I suppose.

La Senda update:  Found out that the well is broken at La Senda and has been for a couple of days.  Stinky bodies and no flushing toilets--pray that it gets fixed soon so home life and school life can be restored to normal!

Semi-Sweet Week

Love chocolate.  Dark chocolate has grown on me of late; milk chocolate is a classic favorite; semi-sweet chips, good for baking.  Also good for describing this week.

For the first time in four years, banquet was exactly as a I dreamed it to be.  Students and parents actually came, for one, and they seemed excited to be there.  It was a sweet time of recognition of students, group hugs, and memories.  A perfect way to end my four years of sponsorship.

Today was the bittersweet portion.  I turned in my resignation.  You would have thought the world was coming to an end.  But no, I just had to type three simple paragraphs and walk it to the office.  Never thought it would be so hard.  It's been awhile since I've felt that alone.  Slowly, slowly, I'm snipping the tethered lines of my life here, readying myself to float away to the next stage.  Sometimes, though, the lines seem to be alive, tendrils of me that bleed when cut.

One thing I'm hanging on to--for one more month, anyway--is dance.  Love to dance.  Rumba, salsa, and waltz are my favorites.  Those are pretty sweet, too. 

Still, I will praise God in semi-sweet weeks.

Roman Omens

It's that time of the year, when the blocks, stones, and worse-than-senseless things rise up to hail Caesar in spite of a manipulative Cassius and a Brutus (wrought from that which he was disposed) plotting to reverse their falling-sickness by removing the unshakeable North Star.

Yes, it's Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Act 1, scene 3, to be exact. The Bruce Almighty clip scene (Cassius renders in nearly perfect Shakespearean, "Smite me you mighty smiter!" baring the chest and everything). The men walking around on fire, lion in the street, owl in the market place scene. Perfect time to make text to world connections. What are your personal superstitions?

My favorite student response in this conversation? Amidst the black cats, the broken mirrors, and the foreboding ladders, the classic step on a crack, break your mother's back came up. My student, and I quote in close approximation, piped up in agitation:

"Yeah, that one don't work. I've stepped on a million cracks and that woman is still up and walking around!"

Signed, Sealed, and Soon Delivered

It's official, people! The support letters are in the mail and will soon arrive at your door. Guatemala or bust! PTL!

On another note, I had stick-shift driving lesson #3 yesterday, courtesy of one of my Tuesday night dinner buddies. Unfortunately, the lesson only lasted 15 minutes with me behind the wheel. No, I did not run over any old ladies. And no, I did not crash into any garage doors (or trashcans or parked cars). The brakes went out on me. Completely out. I was pressing the clutch and the brake peddle to the floorboard, fully extending my short little legs as far as they could stretch, but to no avail. Fortunately, at my panicked cries of "I don't think the brakes are working! The brakes aren't working! The brakes aren't working!" my instructor yanked the emergency brake. The good news was that I never made it over 20 MPH, so we stopped with plenty of room around us on the slightly inclined parking lot.

One thing was made clear in my short lesson time...I'm going to be in a pickle if I ever have to change gears while accelerating up a hill.

Dreaming Big

Recently I cleaned out some of the stuff in my bedroom at my parents' house. I realized that my aspirations of becoming an artist/illustrator were misguided when I rediscovered my childhood sketchbook. Nearly every picture I drew made my subject look like a freak. I pitched it--no use in giving the younger generation nightmares. I reminisced about high school, realizing there were some good times, as I found pictures of friends, notes, and papers. I even found some writing from middle school. I may have been a terrible artist, but I was a darn good speller back in the day. I unearthed my journals as well, and I flipped through the one prior to my junior year of high school: mission trip to Estonia. That experience was certainly one of the best experiences of my life, and certainly pivotal in a number of ways (future post material, I'm sure).

And then I came across my scholarship folder. The manila folder had twenty or so scholarships listed on the cover, each one neatly printed out with a single line drawn through it to show I had turned it in and a check mark to show I had double checked everything prior to sending.

Oddly enough, this folder is enough to remind me of another key aha! moment in my current journey towards Guatemala. One scholarship I applied for was the Sam Walton scholarship, awarded through Walmart and Sam's Club. Focused on community service and a lifetime of service, I applied for it, given my pursuit of education and desire to help others. I soon learned that I qualified for the interview process.

The fluorescent lights flickered occasionally, the buzz of the electrical current providing a steady hum for background noise. My interviewers wore jeans and Polos and were seated at a folding table. The rickety metal chair was my best invitation to a warm welcome. Needless to say, the dingy warehouse room didn't quite meet my expectations for an interview, even if it was at Walmart.

In spite of the environment, the interview started strongly. I smiled, I laughed at the right times, I tried to convey my passion for my dreams. And surprisingly, that's when the rubber met the road.

"So what do you see yourself doing with your life?" Interviewer 1 asked.

I launched into my desire to teach, my desire to travel, my desire to learn another language fluently, and how I could envision all of those interests coming together in an overseas teaching position.

Interviewer 2 leaned forward. "What's wrong with teaching here in America?" she queried.

I fidgeted in my seat. What was wrong with it? Nothing at all. I just loved to be overseas and working with international people...

"But there are plenty of people here that you could help. Why do you have to go overseas to help them?" Interviewer 1 interrupted. Faces were not smiling now.

I was at a loss for words. Suddenly, I knew the interview had turned. I would not be getting the scholarship. They didn't understand. And I was ashamed of my dream.

I was embarrassed the next few times I entered that Walmart, seeing myself as a failure. Caught in my ego-centric adolescent world, I avoided making eye contact with the employees, sure they somehow knew I had lost.

Now, I realize the value of that experience. People may not understand why I desire to go overseas. But I don't have to convince them that I am doing right, worry about this dream being misguided (like my goal of being an illustrator was). I know that this is where I am called to go, at least for a time. And that is good enough for me.

Catching Wind

As I settled in against the rock face, I felt ecstatic about finally finding the perfect spot. Below me, the interstate curved through the trees, the cars swiftly moving along it, looking like an electric car set from childhood. The sun streamed through the tree above me. Thousands of little lady bugs crawled on the rocks, steadily marching toward their destination or sitting placidly in the shade. Suddenly, I was startled by a loud crack from above, like the snap of a belt or the catch of a flag caught in a gust. I instinctively ducked and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest as a shadow passed over me. I glanced up and noticed a hawk float on the breeze above me, fly in an arc and then settle back on the pinnacle. Without hesitation he darted off the edge of the rock again and caught the breeze, the snap of the wind catching his wings and holding him aloft. He splayed his feathers and pumped his wings periodically as he scoured the land below.


Recently, my friend and her husband adopted a son from eastern Europe. When she first told our little group of friends, her first words were, "You all are going to think I'm crazy." She was so excited about her idea to adopt that she could hardly see straight. Her husband was coming around, and her kids were excited about the idea, too. The major hang up? she had to fly to go pick him up. Nothing scared her as much as the idea of being on a plane for seven hours to get her child.


The months ticked by, and they worked to fill out the tedious paperwork and undergo a series of home visits. Then they had to fill out the paperwork again. At each step in the process, her major fear still remained: the flight. We joked about it with her and told her to take some good drugs to knock her out.


When the announcement came that it was time, she and her husband packed up and made their last arrangements for the home front. Then, she got on that plane and flew. The whole seven hours. She didn't parachute out or anything--she arrived. They stayed in a little apartment in a country where they didn't know the language. They couldn't drink the water, not even that in brewed coffee. She couldn't wear her favorite bright green coat, either. And after a series of what one could call lucky breaks or divine intervention (she leans toward the latter), they had their new son with them in record time. She made the flight home without a hitch, too--I know, because I had the privilege of meeting them at the airport. She was alert and in one piece, holding the hand of her new son who stood shyly beside her.


My friend has inspired me. She had an idea, a hope, a calling, and went for it--obeyed it--with all her heart. She certainly had her fears and her obstacles, but that did not deter her. Now she says it's like her son has always been with them. Don't get me wrong--they're still working through adjustments and figuring out the new normal for daily life. But like that bird, she took a soaring leap off that cliff and caught the Wind. And It carried her.


Just imagine how much easier it must be to catch the wind after we've experienced it once...

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: Donald Miller's latest book

Fifteen hundred miles in six days. That's what's ready to roll over on my odometer. I needed to get out, go to the mountains and the beach. I didn't completely understand why; I just knew I needed to refocus and be part of a new setting.

Having heard Donald Miller speak at a local mega church a few weeks ago, I picked up his latest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, before leaving town. He was inspirational when I heard him speak; finishing his book nearly made me giddy with excitement about life's next step. Though his intention doesn't seem to be purely motivational, his honesty about his own journey to improve his life story fosters a deep desire to follow in his footsteps. And unexpectedly, he helped me understand why I had to get away.

As an English teacher, I am not shocked by Miller's definition of a good story as a character who wants something and must overcome conflict to get it. Many times I have stressed that same concept to my students: a story does not exist without conflict. If you're writing, you have to let your characters get hurt.

What shocked me were the nearly perfect parallels to life that Miller draws between our lives and story. This is where the revelation came. How do we expect to get to the end of life and tell a good story if all we do is try to live comfortably? (I woke up. I ate breakfast on my way to work because I was running late. I worked. I got home late. I watched TV. I maybe phoned a friend, if I felt like it.) How boring!

Through his life experiences--namely, the making of his life into a movie (along with his thoughts, his encounters with friends and strangers, and his adventures)--he explores the concept of story and how each key component relates to our own lives. Conflict, character, setting--all of it matters. All of it serves to make life meaningful.

In essence, Donald Miller has written a treatise on the meaning of life without the high-and -mighty philosophizing or a trumpet title touting a discovery of the key to life. Instead, he creates this understanding through a vulnerability in his writing that opens a window into his corner of the world. He lets us peer into his thought processes as he realizes what it takes to live a good story and then begins to toddle towards living it. How we interact with others, what motivates us, how we acknowledge God, what we make of little and big moments--all come into play as he (and we) builds up his life's leg muscles and starts to walk confidently.

Much of what he said hit home. But what unlocked my need to get away was his discussion of scene. A good movie, his movie making friends told him, must have a good scene. It must be memorable. It doesn't just happen at the usual places. It has to be unique. Stand out.

At this crucial time of refocusing in my life, I too needed a scene that would reflect this search, this processing. Without knowing what it was, I was driven to find those scenes. Fortunately, I found them. The hawks swooping down from the pinnacle of the mountain, the wind making music on their wings. A thousand little lady bugs crawling over the rock face. A road winding through blooming trees of varying hues. The moon illuminating a path across the ocean. The sun creeping up over the horizon, rising boldly to take his place as master of the day. The pelicans flying in tight formation over the surf.

Knowing what motivated me to travel makes me think. Perhaps this desire to live a good story is innate. Maybe we don't have to identify all parts of the story, though knowing can help us be intentional. Perhaps we just need to choose to live it, risks and all.

10% To God

My first experience for tithing came from donating to missions. Or it could have come from my dad setting me up with a budget when I was six where 10% went To God, 20% to Entertainment, 30% to Long Term, and 40% to College. Or maybe it happened simultaneously.

Don't get too impressed. I must confess that my initial response in wanting to give to missions was primarily motivated by a desire to get my hands on my very own giving envelopes. As a lover of stationery and all things writing, these envelopes were enticing fruit: pre-printed categories, a line for totaling, a line for your name, an assigned number, and, best of all, dates. One for every Sunday of the year. My undeveloped brain thought these were the glory of the modern world, and I was so excited to give 5 cents every week simply to possess these delicacies.

It was not to be. I later learned that my weekly 5 cents was probably not even enough to cover the cost of printing, so the church unknowingly taught me a lesson in delayed gratification. However, I was not deterred in my disappointment. I decided to make my own envelopes.

Every weekend, I dutifully pulled a small envelope from our hall closet--the one that smelled of rancid Pledge and had a picture with a Bible quote covering a hole. I cut it in half (I was quite green then, apparently), stapling the gashed edge to prevent any money slippage. I neatly wrote my categories for offering and proudly wrote in my 5 cents for missions. I stuck the homemade offering envelope in the front flap of my Bible, probably checking it five times to make sure it didn't disappear. Placing it in the offering plate was certainly a highlight of my week.

Eventually, as a teenager, I did get my own set of giving envelopes. I still looked forward to getting a new set each year.

By teenage years, I had progressed from give 5 cents to 10, to 25 and beyond. And as the years have flown by, I have also progressed in my understanding of tithing and supporting missions as a move of obedience and relationship.

Even if it all started with a fetish for "cool" stationery.

Please Don't Send Me to Africa...

"Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank you for today. I pray that you'll be with our grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends. Please be with the Hunts, the Conrads, Ruby Clark, and Thelma Wagner. Amen."

The staple of our childhood prayers, these lines were repeated every night--sometimes quickly so I could be the fastest one done, sometimes deliberately with meaningful additions, sometimes with my eyes peeking through my fingers to see if my dad was really keeping his eyes closed (he was). Though simple, I think my dad gave us an okay model: thanksgiving and prayer for others. And among those others, prayer for missionaries.

Perhaps the most indelible memories of Christian Tabernacle, my church when it was still downtown, stem from the mission conferences. I remember one year dressing up for a ladies' brunch of sorts, featuring several missionaries who were in town. Each of the tables held yellow center pieces, probably flowers. The most entertaining part? the men who sucked helium from balloons and sang a quartet, which may or may not have been the same group who sang a rousing rendition of "Please don't send me to Africa...," a satircal little ditty about being ready for anything and anywhere the Lord leads unless it's too far out of our comfort zone.

Later, I competed in poster contests held for kids so the sanctuary could be decorated with our interpretations of missions. Out came the dinner plate to trace a perfect circle to start my drawing of the globe. And, of course, there was the train that circled in and out around the baptistery, touting "Missions on the Go" or something similar as the slogan of that year's campaign. The missionaries would speak, and though I don't remember what they said specifically, I remember being enthralled by their stories of interactions with other cultures. I remember seeing their pictures printed on shiny cards, and I remember the requests for prayer and monetary support. And soon, those requests made their way into our little prayers for the missionaries--the Hunts, the Conrads, Ruby Clark, Thelma Wagner--representing to me the exotic call of the Lord in their lives.

Scattergories

The Clue: Street Names

The Letter: B


Bourbon Street, Broadway, Butler Ave., Bob-O-Link. Seems pretty straightforward, yes?

My students and I are currently in a game unit right now, working towards writing a review. Thus, we've enjoyed several rounds of Catch Phrase and Taboo, and on this day, Scattergories.

As we shared our answers for this particular list, students shared the usual. Until we got to the fifth pair of students.

"Street names. Street names?" he yelled out. "Yo, I thought you meant, like, street names. Like, you know, Big Crazy. Like, 'There goes Big Crazy over there!' or 'Hey, Big Crazy! How you doin' today?'"

The rest of the class and I laughed uproariously.

"Okay, I guess I can see how you got that answer..." I spit out between laughs.

"No way!" my other students cried. "That just ain't right!"

He didn't get the point, though he certainly provided us with one of the most memorable moments of the year.

The Art of Waking Up

I finally realized what the problem was last night. My four alarms--three on my phone and one across the room on my dresser--weren't varied enough. Somehow, my phone alarms had been reset to ring with the standard Verizon ring tone. Surely, I thought to myself, this is the reason I have gone from getting up at least forty-five minutes before leaving for work to getting up only twenty-five mintues prior to leaving for my work day. Tired of attempting to walk into work eight minutes after leaving when it takes nine to get there, plus five more to walk in the front door, my waking up routine has got to change.

My dilemma, though, is that there is something beautiful and tranquil about waking up to the sun streaming through the window. Call me a romantic , but this seems to me the perfect way to start a new day. Unfortunately, I only see this perfect slice of light maybe ten times a year--it's that morning glow as the sun first peeks over the horizon, illuminating the tree line on the other side of the railroad tracks running parallel to my house. On work days I theoretically wake up too early, in the darkness and shadows of pre-morning light, or on the weekends, too late, when the light grows harsher as the sun edges toward noon.

Since I cannot drink of this morning perfection on a daily basis, the next best thing, I've decided, is waking up in slow stages, moving from unconscious sleep to gradual awareness and a feeling of contentment. Achieving this state is a carefully constructed process:

• First, my early alarms must play harmonious notes, nothing loud and cacophonous, to avoid startling myself into hated awareness. These alarms ring every five minutes, which I dutifully turn off or ignore as I drift between the worlds of sleep and wakefulness, sometimess praying, more frequently dozing.
• Second, my alarm across the room blares--purposely so, to get me to rise from my slumber--which I then dutifully set for fifteen minutes later, feeling proud of myself for actually getting up. As I slide back under the covers for one more dose of warmth, I inevitably fall asleep again.
• Then, my fourth alarm goes off, this one still gentle yet more forceful than the first two phone alarms, to which I grab my phone and snuggle with it so as to be able to silent the alarm more quickly. At this point, consciousness is starting to set in: I should get up. Really, I should. I've got work to attend to, miles to go before I should sleep again...yet I have not quite achieved that moment of perfection where my brain feels ready to embrace the world and my body rested.
• Finally, after resetting my blaring alarm for the fifth time, I realize that an hour and fifteen minutes have passed. Happiness, peace, dreams of coffee and eggs and ham...

...until I realize I have twenty minutes to get ready.

I frantically shoot out of bed and head for the shower, racing to get clean and put make up on and at least run a brush through my hair. I grab breakfast en route to the car, and lunch, too, ready to peel out of the parking area. And I pull into work just in the nick of time, happy that I feel well even if I look and act a bit discombobulated.

But then I have days like today, where the pieces do not fall into place. The alarms rang harmoniously, I turned them off and on like a pro, I even got myself fully dressed, remembering to put on my makeup even, and I was feeling pretty good about this last-minute routine I've developed.

I slid behind the wheel of my car and pulled out. There was a catch, a rougher role to the motion that seemed a little odd. I jumped out to see what I surely was imagining, only to be confronted with the hard, cold reality that my new passenger tire was flat as a pancake. There would be no driving to work in the nick of time for me. Sigh. Practicing this routine had finally caught up with me.

Needless to say, I have learned again,the hard way, that I need to spend a little less time perfecting the art of waking up.

I Needed a Drink, I Thought

As I drove by the Big Blue Martini (or whatever that ritzy corner bar with the glass windows is called), I truly felt like I could sympathize with those who go there or places like it night after night. I mean, I just had a really long day at work where I fought this day-long internal battle: me versus my lack of motivation and desire to complete the mile-long list of tasks to get caught up (thanks, snow days...er, my laziness over snow days!). On top of that, I got my dance lesson times confused (more on dance later), shooting down the only thing I had looked forward to all day long. Which meant, I decided, as tears streamed down my face at my sad lot, only one thing: it was time to get a drink.

With my Grasshopper Mocha in hand, replete with a thick layer of whipped cream on top, I settled into the brown leather couch. Three men sat in the opposite corner contemplating a chess board, one totally engrossed and two counting down till show time; another sat sighing and looking distraught over the first few chapters of Khaled Husseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns; two women conferred about the web page in front of them. Open mic night was in full gear in the room behind me, and I had three inches of papers to attempt to wade through. The room shifted, and nearly all estrogen left; more testosterone filtered in. I felt momentarily nervous until I consoled myself with the fact that nobody was paying attention. The room shifted again, and as lyrics rang out about the religious nutcases responsible for all hatred and Jesus sending people to Hell, two girls sparked a conversation with the guy next to me and proceeded to talk about the Holy Spirit showing up and reviving their church. Finally, the room shifted again and canned music resumed, the coffee shop crowd bursting out into a momentary sing along to a Sarah McLaughlin-sounding song.

And, believe it or not, I was feeling better. Nearly all of that 3" stack of papers was graded, the mocha was long gone, and I was no longer feeling like I hated the world for silly reasons. I'm thankful for being refreshed and refocused by life.

Standard Driving Lesson #2

After two minutes in the driver's seat, I had to ask my sister Christina how to turn off the seat warmer. We were still in the cul-de-sac on my street, and the only points of instruction she had given me thus far were to iterate the importance of stepping on the clutch to shift from gear to gear. I sat there practicing shifting--without actually going anywhere--just to get the feel of the gears. And I was already starting to sweat.

You have to understand. I may have been sitting on a rarely-driven-down side street, but I had an entire audience in my mother's living room. I found out later that my brother-in-law was betting I'd stall out on the first attempt to drive forward, while my mother was betting I'd do one better: take the car for a vertical leap in the air. Given the free entertainment I innocently provided my mother and my brother during my Standard Driving Lesson #1 eight years ago when we were test-driving a manual Contour, I have not, until recently, been motivated to attempt the task again. That time, after each stall, after each jerky movement (of which there were many of both), the backseat erupted into fits of laughter that made it twice as hard to concentrate. Finally, my ever-patient Dad, who had been attempting to instruct me from the passenger seat, offered to take over. This sad story has become part of family lore.

However, with new motivation to learn this skill, I have decided to attempt once again to learn how to drive a manual car. I have already sent proposals to my local friends whom I think would be at least mildly amused and amenable to teaching me this valuable skill. Unfortunately, these particular friends have not yet officially responded; fortunately, my unassuming life group buddies have offered to teach me. And my sweet sister who was not present during Lesson #1 agreed to give it a go today.

So, Standard Driving Lesson #2 transpired at approximatley 3:15-3:45 P.M. I am glad to report that with the patient tutelage of my older sister, and without the nonsupportive backseat drivers more interested in a show than my success, I didn't stall the vehicle once. I jumped a little bit--not too often--and ended up having to roll down the windows as I stuck out my tongue in nervous concentration, but we made it home in one piece. Next time, perhaps I will work up to traveling more than 1/4 mile on a semi-busy roadway and getting to Gear 4.

The Shack Stores More than a Good Story

Finished reading The Shack by William P. Young last night at midnight. Though I'd heard concerns that the book contained such things as God as a woman and terrible tragedy, I found it to be an easy read that challenges the mind. In essence, the story is a religious philosophy loosely veiled through the story of Mack, the middle-aged, hardened protagonist: tragedy strikes (an emotional though not graphic section), Mack hates God, Mack goes on trip to meet God. Through this basic plot structure, the author tackled three key ideas: the Trinity, why bad things happen to good people, and organized religion. Following in the vein of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (an influence noted even by the author), the ideas work to break lifelong churchgoers out of their preconvceived notions about God.



Young's representation of the Trinity as an African American woman, a Middle Eastern carpenter, and an Asian woman serve to break people away from the preconceived notions of God. As the character Mack claims, perhaps God doesn't look like Gandalf, white flowing beard and aged, after all. And why not represent the Trinity in this way? If God chooses to manifest himself, doesn't it make sense that God may do so however he deems appropriate since both male and female are made in his image and his children are of all tribes and nations? But Young doesn't throw in this characterization just for kicks--it serves a specific purpose in the development of Mack's thinking (and potentially ours right along with him).



Even the discussion of suffering proves insightful, if hard to swallow. God gave man freedom. If man is truly free to make his own choices, then man is also free to suffer the consequences of those choices. Unfortunately, those choices often affect others, hence suffering multiplies. Ironically, while God does not will suffering, he is able to use it for good. Though touched on several times in the novel, I, at times, like Mack, have a hard time wrapping my head around it.



And, similar to (though a little softer than) Miller's book, organized religion takes a beating in favor of relationship. This, however, seems to serve as a strong reminder of Christianity's core values rather than a ridicule of the religion as a whole.



So, is it worth the read? Certainly. I think the ideas can even be vital in evalutaing individual and community faith. Can something like this really happen? Well, it is said, with God, all things are possible. Perhaps it is time for us to reconsider the possibility of divine intervention in daily life.

Work Efficiency? It's overrated.

Went back to work on Friday. If you were to measure my efficiency on a scale from 1 to 10, I would probably get a 2. Maybe a 3. And only because I attended the two meetings I was supposed to attend. The rest of the day I spent gabbing and then staring at my room arrangement trying to figure out the best way to accommodate my largest class (at 33, an outlier this year, thankfully).

My most productive activity at work for the weekend? Uploading my Guatemalan photos to my work computer so I can have them as my screen saver. I'm feeling a little heartsick for Guatemala at the moment.

Carne Asada and Other Yummy Things

The teachers made Rachel, Rita, and me lunch yesterday to celebrate our time here. I just have to say I love carne asada. I don't each much red meat when I'm cooking on my own, so to have delicious red meat really hit the spot. We also ate tortillas, potatoes, chile (broccoli and carrots spiced with jalapenos), salsa, and three milks cake.

The only problem with the lunch was that I had already attended two parties thrown by my third grade and sixth grade classes, respectively. The third graders are going to be the future party planners/teachers/CEOs of Guatemala because they sure know how to plan. We had snacks, we played games (find the stickers on the balloons, pinata, etc), we had a dance party (to Tarzan music, of course). The sixth graders are a little more upscale in their celebrations, with a table cloth covering all of the desks that have been pushed together, nachos and salsa, ramen, zucchini bread, grape pop, and popsicles.

The entire day was very sweet. Probably my favorite keepsake will be some of the cards students wrote.

Grateful for my time here, E.