The other day at Semillas, our after school program, two little boys came running up to me. They had just caught word that we were, in fact, the gringos who lived in the big house at the end of the street. They had come to me to confer if this was true. Upon telling them that yes, I do live there with six other friends, their second question caused me to pause in my tracks. ¨Do you have one bed or two?¨ My heart froze for a little bit, like when you are walking outside and hear thunder and you try to believe for a second that it is not really going to rain. The first image that flashed across my mind was our guest room, two spare beds. Next my mind went to the office, huge double bed that is used perphaps a couple times a year. Quick count; four unused beds. And then my mind ran through all the houses I have passed that contain entire families and one mere matress for them all. No one had ever put my wealth and privelge in such simple or glaring light. How could I tell a boy, eyes full of question, that we have 10 beds in a house of 7 people?
I looked at him and the word ¨two¨ popped out of my mouth. He looked happy, like that was the answer he expected. He turned to his brother and they giggled a little bit, excited for my community that we had more than 1 bed, not realizing at all the confusion that his question would leave me swimming in for days. Afterwards the two brothers ran off to tell their friends what they had learned, murmured exchanges amongst the group, while I sat, trying to understand once again why I am here.
The answer was silent. nothing.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Living in the Spirit
Hello all,
I greet you from a sunny Sunday morning in Duran. The weather here seems to have shifted this morning, and as I walked to church I caught the cool breeze of a new season and it brought me right to the states, where fall is beginning to form on the trees and in the air. I miss fall, I miss sweatershirts and camp fires and walks outside without the tremor of sweat. The weather here will soon change to summer, the rain season is on the way coming in January and arching over until April. I already have my black rainboots picked out that I will likely sport for 4 months solid.
Weekend Updates:
This past weekend we had our first girls night in the community and it was wonderful. I think we all came to find ourselves on a different level, and the power of feminity that had been hidden amongst the presence of two gentlemen was rekindled and again I felt home, rememebering the rich community of women in the states that I thrive off of. We also had a vistor sneak into the group in the midst of discussion which caused quite the stir. A tiny little back mouse, the third we have seen in our house, streaked across the floor to create a full rooms of shrieks. Tracy jumped up and grabbed the garbage can and the search began. It ran into the corner and instead of trying to sneak into a hole the mouse, to our horror, jumped up. It jumped again, we screamed, and the in skirted into the kitched where we followed anxiously until at a few swats we trapped it. Crying out for the guard to help us, Elvis appeared in the doorway with a machete and a dust pan. Being the calm strong man he is, he proceeded to run the garbabe can back and forth in quick jerks until at last he lifted the lid and booted the mouse against the wall as we watched on the sidelines, in awr and terror at the death we just saw. Through the laughs of the night, I think I gained a six pack.
The following morning we set out for our first culture experience outside of Duran, a trip to a local community´s annual festival. The city of Milagro is the home of the Pineapple and boasts the freshest fruit around. We were invited by a patient of Tracy´s named Washington, and he guided us through the winding busy streets in search of a festival that actually didn´t exist. It was a different weekend. But the trip was not wasted, we waited whlie trucks of fresh pineapple were hauled in from the fields and from there we had our top picking. Our new friend, to pass the time, bought 25 manderine oranges for a dollar, and we stood on the corner of the street, spitting seeds, watching the world pass by in bicycles and cars, enjoying the luxury of a slow Saturday in a different place.
Afterwards we were invited to lunch with Washington´s family, and as were taking pictures of the pineapples in his rose garden they asked us if we wanted to see their pet turtle. Instead of going into the house to fetch it, Washington pulled out a shovel and began digging in the garden. With his bare hands he dug into the earth and pulled out a snapping turtle, dangling it in the air with a nonchalant expression. Not only did we take a million pictures with the pineapples as the request of Washington´s dad, we also have a full album of pictures with the roses and the turtle as well.
Saturday night we hit up the church for a night of bingo. The women from the church sell cards for a fundraiser, and come 7 oclock, the whole town was gathered outside for a night of number calling. A lot of kids from our afterschool program were there, so we let them teach us how to play and count down together all the spaces we were missing until we got a prize. We didn´t win. but we had 3 hours of free entertainment with the neighbors.
Life Updates:
Life here has been going well. The theme of my life the past few weeks has been community; the journey of living with other people and opening up and sharing with them who I authentically am. I consider myself a very laid back person, but I have been shown in the process of being intentional that a lack of intention is just as hard, if not harder, on a community than direct and honest communication . I have been challenged to dig into myself when I am bothered by someones actions, and find the words and the gentle spirit to bring my own confrontations to surface. I need prayers in this. Please lift me up for that.
I have been watching as God has grown and shifted my heart through this journey so far. I always forget how hard it is to be a Christian, to struggle to act out what you believe, instead of just thinking it. Somedays I am so tired and worn down that I forget to love, I forget the suffering of my neighbors, of my own community memebers. I have been praying that I will allow this experience to pass through me, instead of me trying to hang onto it and get out of it what I think I need or what I want. I think God is teaching me to break down the theme of Christianity and put it into a real and practical format of living. It´s not in the big decisions that we encounter God, as I had always thought and seen, but in the little minutes when we don´t feel like listening because we have to do a job, or letting our neighbors know they are loved, even when we do not feel we have that love to give, even to ourselves.
I am being told that internet closes in 5 minutes because the family who owns it would like to eat together. I love Ecuador and how they live out what is most important to them.
I am praying for you, please pray for me also.
I greet you from a sunny Sunday morning in Duran. The weather here seems to have shifted this morning, and as I walked to church I caught the cool breeze of a new season and it brought me right to the states, where fall is beginning to form on the trees and in the air. I miss fall, I miss sweatershirts and camp fires and walks outside without the tremor of sweat. The weather here will soon change to summer, the rain season is on the way coming in January and arching over until April. I already have my black rainboots picked out that I will likely sport for 4 months solid.
Weekend Updates:
This past weekend we had our first girls night in the community and it was wonderful. I think we all came to find ourselves on a different level, and the power of feminity that had been hidden amongst the presence of two gentlemen was rekindled and again I felt home, rememebering the rich community of women in the states that I thrive off of. We also had a vistor sneak into the group in the midst of discussion which caused quite the stir. A tiny little back mouse, the third we have seen in our house, streaked across the floor to create a full rooms of shrieks. Tracy jumped up and grabbed the garbage can and the search began. It ran into the corner and instead of trying to sneak into a hole the mouse, to our horror, jumped up. It jumped again, we screamed, and the in skirted into the kitched where we followed anxiously until at a few swats we trapped it. Crying out for the guard to help us, Elvis appeared in the doorway with a machete and a dust pan. Being the calm strong man he is, he proceeded to run the garbabe can back and forth in quick jerks until at last he lifted the lid and booted the mouse against the wall as we watched on the sidelines, in awr and terror at the death we just saw. Through the laughs of the night, I think I gained a six pack.
The following morning we set out for our first culture experience outside of Duran, a trip to a local community´s annual festival. The city of Milagro is the home of the Pineapple and boasts the freshest fruit around. We were invited by a patient of Tracy´s named Washington, and he guided us through the winding busy streets in search of a festival that actually didn´t exist. It was a different weekend. But the trip was not wasted, we waited whlie trucks of fresh pineapple were hauled in from the fields and from there we had our top picking. Our new friend, to pass the time, bought 25 manderine oranges for a dollar, and we stood on the corner of the street, spitting seeds, watching the world pass by in bicycles and cars, enjoying the luxury of a slow Saturday in a different place.
Afterwards we were invited to lunch with Washington´s family, and as were taking pictures of the pineapples in his rose garden they asked us if we wanted to see their pet turtle. Instead of going into the house to fetch it, Washington pulled out a shovel and began digging in the garden. With his bare hands he dug into the earth and pulled out a snapping turtle, dangling it in the air with a nonchalant expression. Not only did we take a million pictures with the pineapples as the request of Washington´s dad, we also have a full album of pictures with the roses and the turtle as well.
Saturday night we hit up the church for a night of bingo. The women from the church sell cards for a fundraiser, and come 7 oclock, the whole town was gathered outside for a night of number calling. A lot of kids from our afterschool program were there, so we let them teach us how to play and count down together all the spaces we were missing until we got a prize. We didn´t win. but we had 3 hours of free entertainment with the neighbors.
Life Updates:
Life here has been going well. The theme of my life the past few weeks has been community; the journey of living with other people and opening up and sharing with them who I authentically am. I consider myself a very laid back person, but I have been shown in the process of being intentional that a lack of intention is just as hard, if not harder, on a community than direct and honest communication . I have been challenged to dig into myself when I am bothered by someones actions, and find the words and the gentle spirit to bring my own confrontations to surface. I need prayers in this. Please lift me up for that.
I have been watching as God has grown and shifted my heart through this journey so far. I always forget how hard it is to be a Christian, to struggle to act out what you believe, instead of just thinking it. Somedays I am so tired and worn down that I forget to love, I forget the suffering of my neighbors, of my own community memebers. I have been praying that I will allow this experience to pass through me, instead of me trying to hang onto it and get out of it what I think I need or what I want. I think God is teaching me to break down the theme of Christianity and put it into a real and practical format of living. It´s not in the big decisions that we encounter God, as I had always thought and seen, but in the little minutes when we don´t feel like listening because we have to do a job, or letting our neighbors know they are loved, even when we do not feel we have that love to give, even to ourselves.
I am being told that internet closes in 5 minutes because the family who owns it would like to eat together. I love Ecuador and how they live out what is most important to them.
I am praying for you, please pray for me also.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Ants are my life
From the time I awake in the morning until I go to bed at night, ants have become a part of my entire day. When I put on clothes in the morning, they are there with me. When I grab breakfast from the cupboard, they are busy working on my breakfast. As I walk out of the house and reach for my bag, they are already in it, awaiting for me to depart with their presence trailling behind. I feel them on my arms not with a worried suspision, but because they are actually charging down my arms and legs. At times they are in so many places that I doubt my existence before them. They make beautiful patterns on the walls of my bedroom, they create endless opportunites for toxic games in the afternoons, and at night they are always waiting in my bed for us both to leave the world behind in sleep. We got ants.
The other day my friend Gina and I got a craving for chocolate banana cake, so we set out in the early afternoon to collect all of the ingredients. We whipped up quite a batch in about 30 minutes, and after a good hour in the oven we pulled out our creation to admire its perfect smell. Because we had all finished lunch and felt full we decided to wait until after dinner to eat our cake. But then once dinner had passed and we were stuffed to the max, we decided to extend the treat only a few hours more, until after our nightly prayer.
When 9:30pm rolled around, we were all pretty pumped, not only to pray, but to get our prayers out quickly. As we approached the safely burried treasure that we hid sneakly in the oven, a prevaillig sense of horror and admiration came over us as we opened the door to find an entire army awaiting us. Now it is hard to tell you approximatly how many ants were on the cake, because ants are a quantity that is hard to see in your mind. If I told you there were 300 that might give you the same visual image as a person I told there were 1,000. Needless to say, the cake was almost covered, and the white pan had only spots of white left.
We don´t get many treats in Ecuador, as a matter of fact I believe this might have been the first desert in a month, so you can imagine the inner crying that was going on the entire time we discovered our partners. It was pretty rough, there was some whining, even some light wailling, and after such a long week, not many of us had anything left to fight with. However, deep in everyones stomach lives the desire to perservere against all odds. So we decided to do what any normal young college aged adult would do. We decided we would bake them off.
We put the cake in the oven, cranked the heat, and watched as the ants on the pan fell to their death 13 inches below, while those who were on the cake melted right into the gooey layers. When we took it out, after a brief discussion on protein and a little convincing on some of our parts, we set out to devour the same cake which minutes before had broken our hearts. Removing the cooked ants with some skilled knives and finger nails, we all dug in with two hands until we had licked the entire pan clean. I ate more ants than I know, but I am assuming somewhere around 30. Yum.
And that is how we coined our phrase for the year. ¨Bottoms up.¨
The other day my friend Gina and I got a craving for chocolate banana cake, so we set out in the early afternoon to collect all of the ingredients. We whipped up quite a batch in about 30 minutes, and after a good hour in the oven we pulled out our creation to admire its perfect smell. Because we had all finished lunch and felt full we decided to wait until after dinner to eat our cake. But then once dinner had passed and we were stuffed to the max, we decided to extend the treat only a few hours more, until after our nightly prayer.
When 9:30pm rolled around, we were all pretty pumped, not only to pray, but to get our prayers out quickly. As we approached the safely burried treasure that we hid sneakly in the oven, a prevaillig sense of horror and admiration came over us as we opened the door to find an entire army awaiting us. Now it is hard to tell you approximatly how many ants were on the cake, because ants are a quantity that is hard to see in your mind. If I told you there were 300 that might give you the same visual image as a person I told there were 1,000. Needless to say, the cake was almost covered, and the white pan had only spots of white left.
We don´t get many treats in Ecuador, as a matter of fact I believe this might have been the first desert in a month, so you can imagine the inner crying that was going on the entire time we discovered our partners. It was pretty rough, there was some whining, even some light wailling, and after such a long week, not many of us had anything left to fight with. However, deep in everyones stomach lives the desire to perservere against all odds. So we decided to do what any normal young college aged adult would do. We decided we would bake them off.
We put the cake in the oven, cranked the heat, and watched as the ants on the pan fell to their death 13 inches below, while those who were on the cake melted right into the gooey layers. When we took it out, after a brief discussion on protein and a little convincing on some of our parts, we set out to devour the same cake which minutes before had broken our hearts. Removing the cooked ants with some skilled knives and finger nails, we all dug in with two hands until we had licked the entire pan clean. I ate more ants than I know, but I am assuming somewhere around 30. Yum.
And that is how we coined our phrase for the year. ¨Bottoms up.¨
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