Wow. Time flies, I can´t even fathom that I am only 5 months away from leaving this beautiful country. It feels like a few days ago we were landing in Guayaquil, rapping to Will Smith´s ¨Miami¨ and nervously giggling as we entered into our forgien new life. And here I am, 7 months in, still not a clue what I am doing most days, stumbling over Spanish, grappling through mornings in the hospital, shuffling through angry kids and happy non-listners at Semillas, all the while praying in the mornings with my palms open wide, for God to come, for me to understand.
Lets do some brief updates on what life is looking like over here:
· Twlight made its way to the Arbolito house, spread like a disease. I´m on New Moon. Vampires was not what I imagined liking during a year of service . . .
· Carnival is a 3 day celebration leading up to Ash Wednesday. It involves paint, mud, sheer force, puddles, flour, shampoo and gold bond (in andrew´s case). red paint stained our faces. my hair was blue day 1, red day 2, purple day 3. tracy still has purple streaks. they may stay be around for awhile. intense doesn´t describe us.
· Mass on Ash Wednesday was packed. Stood back row, mosquitos bighting our legs the whole time. Dogs wandered in and out among the legs. People wanted their crosses bad. much pushing and shoving, you´d have thought it was free concert tickets.
· Poured last Tuesday. Downtown was flooded. Andrew and I waded up to our waists crossing the main street to the hospital. Saw a sole shoe floating down the ally. Looked like something out of national geographic or in the news. except this time we were actually there.
· Kids are planning for the big Olympic games that we have with all the after school programs. So far our kids aren´t looking so hot. Took 30 minutes to make lines based on age and height. semillas is hoping for an upset. march 13th will determine it all.
· Recently had our first field trip with the kids at semillas. month 6. went to a park in the city to play. there was a half pipe (skateboard ramp). the kids spent the full 2 hours running up the walls to get to the deck. Carolyn and myself included. All the kids made it up. we did not. humility and sadness.
· The other day in the hospital one of our unruly patients stabbed a woman with a pencil. she´s fine. we´re working hard to love this child who has no parents or home. we pray for him lots. please do the same if you can.
· Tracy´s dad came to visit us. He works with planes so he became the fast expert on the crash in NYC. we had lots of questions. He also grilled for us. Dan is greatly missed by all.
· Amy´s parents came down too. Her dad has the best Boston accent. I told him it sounds like a strong Bristish accent fading away into American culture. We laughed. I didn´t study linguistics. He´s from the states.
· When Andrew´s parents were here we had a rat chase. It was pinned in the closet, Melissa and Elyse braving the hunt, entrapped with it. We made a baracade. I felt safe. I stood bravely behind it to peek in and watch. The rat jumped over the baracade. I screamed. All 9 girls too. Andrew´s dad trapped it was a plastic lid. And killed it. Instant hero.
Theres so many more, my head hurts in trying to wrap around them.
Lent:
We had a morning reflection the other day and explored together the meaning of the season upon us. Lent is a time to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord, to empty out places inside of ourselves so that God may come and enter them and fill them up. We tried, all 12 of us in a retreat room on Friday morning, to pull out of ourselves, all the walls that are keeping us from God, so that we could give them to Him, and ask Him to break them down. There were lists made, thoughts sketched down, all of us having much to let go of, the humaness of us wearing day by day in the country of heat. I found a lot of fear inside myself, hiding in corners and holes that I had never thought to look. I am scared of the future, what it will bring, if I am headed at all in the right direction, if I am being the person I am supposed to be. Fear. We lit pieces of paper to flame, and watched as all of our fears and walls and junk burned into beautiful ashes like glowing flowers fanning out. We gave it all over to God.
My director said something that I really liked, that made things click. She said that when we ask God to come into our hearts, he doesn´t wait. He RUSHES in, because every part of who He is longs to be in us, with us, filling us up with Himself. It made my heart feel swollen and warm to think of Jesus in a frenzy, trying to get into all those patches of darkness hidden inside me, to heal them, to make them light.
I pray that all of you may find the time and space to do some house cleaning. To get rid of the burdens and worries and fears and doubts and failures that keep us from God, that we hold over ourselves as a punishment or a consequence for things we don´t feel we´ve lived up to. I pray that you can sit with emptiness, and know that in it, God lives.
I leave you with the thoughts of a much wiser man who says it best.
¨It is very hard to allow emptiness to exsist in our lives. Emptiness requires a willingness not to be in control, a willingness to let something new and unexpected happen. It requires trust, surrender, and openess to guidance. God wants to dwell in our emptiness. But as long as we are afraid of God and God´s action in our lives, it is unlikely that we will ever offer our emptiness to God. Let´s pray that we can let go of our own fear of God and embrace God as the source of all love. ¨
-Henri Nouwen.
May this season of preparation deliver you to a transformation of the heart.
all love from ecuador.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Thoughts Under a Blistering Sun
Two weekends ago I experinced the thrill and jubliee of another reminder that I am not yet part of the real world. Retreat at the beach. Driving 2 hours over cuvry green landscape, into a purple orange sky, bopping along bumpy roads with snacks and music and friends, I was brought into the joy and freedom that sometimes I forget to be thankful for; what a rare gift this life is. What a rare gift Ecuador is.
We got to spend 3 full days enjoying a gorgeous beach house that the founders of our partner school own. This includes hammocks on the roof terrance, a winding staircase, spare rooms galore, huge kitchen space for cooking, outside grill, and of course a marvelous view of that huge ocean horizon. It was glorious, sparkled all by the magical presence of one of our orientation leaders, John Ropar, who flew in from Ohio. He guided our retreat experience and brought us to a better understanding of where we are at.
The reatreat was unique in that it came upon our fast approaching 6th month marker. Yes. We are now half way through this year, and the other half is still yet to come. So much reflection and thought is dedicated to this point in time, in reviewing where we have been to adjust where we are going. I had a lot of time to introspect and search out what the past 6 months have shaped me into and and how they have challanged my life; its a lot of ground to cover.
One of the biggest realizations I came to on this retreat is where I have placed God in this experience. I have put forth so much dedication into understanding where I am at in this cultural exchange, how I am struggling and failing, where I am seeing my world view fold and expand, that I have forgotten along the way the entire purpose of this year: to see the face of Christ. I have certainly looked for it, and more clearly than ever seen it, but I have somewhere along the way misaligned that mission with other things, other motives, other plans. As my excitement and nervousness about next year has started to climb into the possiblity of what next year will bring, I began to look at my end goal in this process, and there burried on the back shelf was the reason that I came down here in the first place; to seek God.
We did a reflection on community and what it means to live as a cohesive unit, exploring myths and detecting lies of the things that we come in thinking and assuming. Above all those lies and romanticized ideas of what community living is, I realized that I was viewing community as an end in itself. I kept waiting for us to be full together, for everything to click, for all of us to one day be on the same page and suddenly without problems and holes. And while some of that may be a part of why we choose to live in community, it is not the primary goal. We live in community as a means to find God. Through each other we come more and more to see different aspects of who He is, and we help each other to live out the call to love in all our brokeness. Our call to live with our brothers and sisters is not to reach some qualitative form of life, some functitioning being that is self-sustaining or all serving, but to live out the kinks and pains and sorrows of the world in order to move closer into the reality of God in everything.
Everything is a means to God.
That thought stung me like the angry bee that bit me in the bottom of my foot last summer in Santa Monica, with the initial realization being so overwhelming that I cried. This new idea flipped my perspetive a lot, and while I wish I could say that 2 weeks later everything is different and makes sense and is so clear, that isn´t the case at all. This stark realization only led to a deeper shade of gray in understanding how I am supposed to act and live out the call of love. But it pulled me into the process, into the tension that comes in our lives when we don´t quite know the way or how to get where we are going.
So here I am, still so unsure of what I am doing here and if I am doing anything right at all, struggling with my purpose and my mission along with all the others on some common level. And I´m seeing that its okay. That if I stretch to remember that God is in everything, and is the end that I seek in everything, it makes the whole world open up a little bit more, and it makes me see that there is meaning behind everything we do, even if we don´t see it or feel it.
On another note, the beach was so hot that I actually peeled. That never has happened to me. My skin fell off in all different kind of patches on my face, and you could see how white my skin underneath was in contrast with the brown it had turned into. Kids at the hospital kept asking what was wrong with me. They didn´t really get it.
But that´s okay. I don´t always either.
We got to spend 3 full days enjoying a gorgeous beach house that the founders of our partner school own. This includes hammocks on the roof terrance, a winding staircase, spare rooms galore, huge kitchen space for cooking, outside grill, and of course a marvelous view of that huge ocean horizon. It was glorious, sparkled all by the magical presence of one of our orientation leaders, John Ropar, who flew in from Ohio. He guided our retreat experience and brought us to a better understanding of where we are at.
The reatreat was unique in that it came upon our fast approaching 6th month marker. Yes. We are now half way through this year, and the other half is still yet to come. So much reflection and thought is dedicated to this point in time, in reviewing where we have been to adjust where we are going. I had a lot of time to introspect and search out what the past 6 months have shaped me into and and how they have challanged my life; its a lot of ground to cover.
One of the biggest realizations I came to on this retreat is where I have placed God in this experience. I have put forth so much dedication into understanding where I am at in this cultural exchange, how I am struggling and failing, where I am seeing my world view fold and expand, that I have forgotten along the way the entire purpose of this year: to see the face of Christ. I have certainly looked for it, and more clearly than ever seen it, but I have somewhere along the way misaligned that mission with other things, other motives, other plans. As my excitement and nervousness about next year has started to climb into the possiblity of what next year will bring, I began to look at my end goal in this process, and there burried on the back shelf was the reason that I came down here in the first place; to seek God.
We did a reflection on community and what it means to live as a cohesive unit, exploring myths and detecting lies of the things that we come in thinking and assuming. Above all those lies and romanticized ideas of what community living is, I realized that I was viewing community as an end in itself. I kept waiting for us to be full together, for everything to click, for all of us to one day be on the same page and suddenly without problems and holes. And while some of that may be a part of why we choose to live in community, it is not the primary goal. We live in community as a means to find God. Through each other we come more and more to see different aspects of who He is, and we help each other to live out the call to love in all our brokeness. Our call to live with our brothers and sisters is not to reach some qualitative form of life, some functitioning being that is self-sustaining or all serving, but to live out the kinks and pains and sorrows of the world in order to move closer into the reality of God in everything.
Everything is a means to God.
That thought stung me like the angry bee that bit me in the bottom of my foot last summer in Santa Monica, with the initial realization being so overwhelming that I cried. This new idea flipped my perspetive a lot, and while I wish I could say that 2 weeks later everything is different and makes sense and is so clear, that isn´t the case at all. This stark realization only led to a deeper shade of gray in understanding how I am supposed to act and live out the call of love. But it pulled me into the process, into the tension that comes in our lives when we don´t quite know the way or how to get where we are going.
So here I am, still so unsure of what I am doing here and if I am doing anything right at all, struggling with my purpose and my mission along with all the others on some common level. And I´m seeing that its okay. That if I stretch to remember that God is in everything, and is the end that I seek in everything, it makes the whole world open up a little bit more, and it makes me see that there is meaning behind everything we do, even if we don´t see it or feel it.
On another note, the beach was so hot that I actually peeled. That never has happened to me. My skin fell off in all different kind of patches on my face, and you could see how white my skin underneath was in contrast with the brown it had turned into. Kids at the hospital kept asking what was wrong with me. They didn´t really get it.
But that´s okay. I don´t always either.
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