Day 11: Final Day in Africa

 Me feeding a giraffe!

The coolest thing on this day was getting to feed giraffes at a Wildlife Center. Their sticky tongues wrap around your hand with all the food pellets and when they withdraw it, the food is gone. It was the weirdest sensation, so I had to do it multiple times until in the end I had giraffe slime all over my left hand. Don't worry, I washed them. :-)

The hardest part of the day was saying good-bye to Kristin. :-( My time here went far too quickly (as I knew it would), and while I'm looking forward to my bed and non-suitcased clothes, I'm going to miss the sunshine, the mangos, and having such a good friend at my beck and call and availability for any conversation or adventure. Thanks for an amazing sights and sounds, Kristin!

Day 9-10: Maasai Market Shopping

The highlight of these two days has definitely been the shopping. Kristin took me to the Maasai Market that meets in a parking garage every Thursday. I forgot to take a camera, but that may have been okay anyway since it definitely would have pegged me as a tourist in a way my white skin didn't too much. With Kristin's residency card, several owners just assumed I lived here, too, so we were able to get away from the tourist prices pretty quickly.

The bartering skills were a little rusty, and I'm sure I overpaid on a couple of the items, but the girls seemed quite impressed that I got a skirt for only 600 Schilling (~ 6 Euros). I had no idea, I was just trying to make a deal to get two, and she wouldn't budge. :-)

Other highlights of these two days included getting to cook for the girls in Kristin's house and then having them cook a 2nd Christmas dinner for all of us. Yum. We watched Downton Abbey, took a walk, visited the West Nairobi School campus (their school), and had Emmy over before she and I had to say good-bye. Sad how quickly my time here is winding down.

Day 6-8: Christmas Kenya-style

It's still weird that we're celebrating Christmas in the middle of the summer - even weird for native Kenyan residents such as Kristin and her roommate, Amber. Church on Sunday helped a lot to get us into mood, which is what we did on Day 6, followed by a relaxing afternoon at home. Christmas Eve, Day 7, was about getting ready for the big holiday. We took a trip to the grocery store, the pie place to get a pumpkin pie, and a small market for last-minute gifts. 

Now here I sit on Day 8. MERRY CHRISTMAS! Amber made us yummy cinnamon rolls which we enjoyed after a quick gift exchange. A rhubarb pie just came out of the oven for tonight's big dinner, and we're just relaxing.

I've been reflecting on Zechariah's praise song in Luke 1 since Sunday. What a man of God who really understood the big picture, at least for that moment. I especially like the three reasons he gives for Christ's coming:
1. that we should be saved (v. 71)
2. to show mercy (v. 72)
3. to be faithful to himself and keep his oath (v. 73)
Christmas really is a remembrance of the biggest sacrifice made, a sign post that shows God putting his plan formed at the dawn of the ages into motion. May these truths be especially true and important to us this year, and like Zechariah, may our worship be drawn up in service to him forever (v. 74).

Merry Christmas!

Day 2-5: The Mara

Actually Day 2 was in Nairobi, but nothing noteworthy really happened. Other than to say it was a lovely, relaxing day. I worked mainly on grading papers for my Online Course.

Day 3, however, is another story. It saw us up at the crack of dawn to catch our safari vehicle south to The Masai Mara (an extension of Tanzania's Serengeti, though slightly smaller). I'll mainly let the pictures speak for themselves. Suffice it to say that we had an amazing time!!!

Top Ten Highlights:
1. Driving through the Rift Valley
2. Our "tent camp" room that really was in a tent but was gorgeous inside
3. Lions
4. Cheetahs!!!
5. Cheetahs chasing impala and running really fast
6. Cheetah babies!!!
7. Hippos, Giraffes, Rhinos, and Crocodiles
8. Seeing animals eat their prey (gross, but awe-inspiring, too)
9. the Food at our "tent camp" that included an all-you-can-eat buffet and all-you-can-drink mango juice
10. Hanging out with Kristin (who deserves credit for most of these photos) and her friend Emmy

Single Lowlight:
1. Getting sick on the first morning and spending a bit of time on the porcelain express. It made for a queasy ride on the next safari day.

Day 1: Nairobi

I don't know if today really counts as a true Kenyan experience with the exception of a few things:

1. The power went out 3 times while I tried to blow dry my hair. I think it was me. Oh well, the mop look did it for me.
2. I found a finger nail in my slushy. Yeah. That one was rather gross.

We slept in, had a lazy morning, and then drove to this nice, tropical-looking garden cafe for lunch. I had a Mexikenya salad and was simply thrilled that it was topped by lots of avacado. That in tandem with my mango juice set everything off on the right foot for the day.

The afternoon was spent seeing various parts of Nairobi from the back of the car and then enjoying The Hobbit. Now, I know what you're thinking. "You travel all the way to Kenya to see a movie theater!?" Well, when the price is $4.50 versus $20 in Switzerland - yes!

We came home, and I've been grading for my online class most of the evening. Not what you call an exciting night, but it needs to be done by tomorrow night, before I can leave on my Safari! So, I suppose I should probably call it a night, so that tomorrow I can have a few more adventures during the day.

Asante!

Worth It

November is tough for me. It tends to be the first slump in a school year (followed by another in February). The semester is starting to feel long, and Christmas break is still a month away. Students complain of too much homework, and teachers complain of unrequiting students (yes, I made up a word). As a Middle School staff, it's been our prayer these last few weeks to maintain an atmosphere of love and grace at school. It's so easy when you're tired and frustrated to slip into a legalistic mode where rule-keeping and survival are the orders of the day, so our desire was to continue enjoying our students and help them thrive. But how do you measure something like that? How do you know if students are seeing your attempt to be grace-filled?

I had a couple of beautiful moments that reminded me of why it is worth it to (try to) live every moment in God's joy rather than the exhaustion of the month of November. The first was a sweet note from an anonymous student in my box. In homeroom one morning, I prayed something along the lines of "Help us run to you, not just when we need you, but all the time." Check out the card of enormous encouragement in the picture below. I know with all my heart that kids will never look to me and see someone who has it all together, who has all the answers. My biggest prayer is that if and when they look, they'll see someone simply trying to love God.

The other moment of "Hooray, this is worth it all" came last night in the car. I was driving four 8th grade girls to their class party at an ice skating rink. Somewhat out of the blue, ME asked a question out loud. "How do you know when God is calling you to do something?" The other girls probed a bit, and she was thinking about how her parents left Korea for the Philippines under the guise of "God called us," and then again the move to Turkey, and now the fact that she and her brother attend BFA in yet another country - all because God had told her parents they had a job to do. The other girls shared similar stories of how their parents left their countries (Canada, USA, and Switzerland) to complete their missions, but none of them could really say either what "being called" truly meant. I got to share my story of how I thought I was heading to China and the Lord redirected my steps while also making use of my random gifts (German, teaching, and MK-ness) all in my mission: to serve at BFA.

The girls went on to share of some of the blessings they've already seen come out of their parents' work or the things in their own lives that were impacted by this calling to be an MK: challenges overcome, friendships old and new, a growing family around the world, and a closer walk with God. As I squinted in the dark to spot the Ice Rink sign, all I could think is "This is why I do what I do. Conversations like this make everything worth it!"

 The girls on the far right and in the center were in my car. :-)

Relearning He Rejoices

I love it when God re-reveals things (because let's face it, I keep relearning the same things over and over again all the time). When a concept shows up more than three times in the same week, I know he's got his hammer out and is chiseling away again. This week it was his laughter, his joy in expression, as seen in the Father of the Prodigal, in the God of Zephaniah, and in the Psalms. I've been reminded that I'm a work in progress and he is pleased with that. Please remember that also rings true of this poem below. Thanks for allowing me to be real here.

Delight

Zephaniah 3:15-17

To slink into his throne room

dirty,

polluted,

stained anew.

Age-old, repetitive sin – once again.

Mask of remorse over heart of fear.

Not a fear he’ll be shocked;

He knows me too intimately.

Not a fear he’ll be angry;

His patience knows no bounds.

Not a fear he won’t love;

His arms envelop me even now.

Not a fear he won’t forgive;

He’s proven himself too faithful.

A fear that with each return,

Each of my requests for

forgiveness,

love,

patience,

Is an exchange for his pleasure.

Dreading his disappointment

(Because I know how I respond

to my kids,

to my debtors,

to my friends.)

Fearing his joy toward me will wane.

Not realizing each moment of grace,

Every chance for forgiveness,

Is reason for rejoicing.

Me. Daughter of the King.

The Lord is in your midst;

you shall never again fear.

The prophets promise loud singing,

a God whisking away sin. Every time.

I twirl in his arms to catch his smile.

His song puts my fear to rest.

Thoughts on an Abbey

I stand looking through an opaque glass at the only remnant of the nave that once vaulted the entire length of 187 meters. Some of it has been reconstructed, with holes left in the wall so that we fanatical tourists who were willing to dole out 9 Euros can see the original, half-wasted pillar underneath. I want to reach out and touch it. Simply by virture of being 1,000 years old, it is stunningly beautiful, never mind the missing chunks or the fact that it would fall over if unsupported. I imagine the monks from the abbey next door who filed past this particular pillar on their way through the Galilee transcript into the biggest church the world knew at the time. Perhaps one monk’s hood brushed this exact spot my fingers now trace. The few stones that remain have seen all the ranks, from popes and kings down to vagabond pilgrims with nothing to their name, all united in a desire to do what pleased the heavenly Father.

Of course that thought sobers me. I know all too well how enormous cathedrals such as this one came into existence. The scene unfolds in my mind’s eye clearly: how a passerby is cajoled into buying an indulgence to lessen his sins (false) or shorten his time in purgatory (not true) and with his sacrifice help protect the relics of St. Peter and St. Paul (wrong) by building a huge church worthy of their names. Guilt built this monument, and the abbots who presided over the services knew full well that pilgrims came to gawk at their accomplishments much more than the Lord. Of course, they themselves had their sights set on bigger prizes: Rome itself, as is evidenced by the number of Cluniac monks who achieved just that. And Jesus? He was relegated to a seat at the top of the door, preferably the stone version so that he would be immobile to interfere too much with human plans.

Still, this was a house of God, and I’m moved. Surely among all the monks and visitors to these hallowed halls, there was at least one whose gaze was drawn heavenward. One believer who stared at the Bible stories etched in glass and felt the Spirit inside him confirm that this was indeed truth. One individual who truly worshiped the Lord our God right here, perhaps leaning against this very pillar I want so badly to set free from its confining walls.

And I’m angry and mournful all over again. It’s so senseless that this was all destroyed on purpose. Razed to the ground by men who considered themselves enlightened and beyond the crutch of needing a God who was of stone and therefore didn’t care. Colored stained glass and capitals atop columns were crushed, ground up, and thrown into the nearby river or rebuilt into farm homes. Special care was taken with the destruction of the front doors lintel: the Evangelists survived in fragments, but the part that held Jesus was completely wiped out. Cobblestones and homes were erected right on top of the altar, and the Cluny cathedral passed from sight into memory and – for a time – into legend.

From my pillar in the nave, I move through a gorgeous reconstructed door into a small chapel that survived the worst of the rage, though it was entirely gutted of all marble statues and decorations. I can make out one lone name still etched into the wall – St. Andrew’s – surrounded by eleven blanks spots. How would it feel to be erased from history, to have people pretend you never existed? That was the attempt, to say Christ was more fiction than fact.

That’s when a song, new to me, drifts back into my mind.

If they shut down the churches, where would you go?

If they melted all the stained glass windows, replaced every sanctuary with a condo, where would you go? If they burned every Bible, what would you know? If they tore your marked-up pages, how would you grow? We are a cathedral made of people in a kingdom that the eye can’t see. When they hate you for the things you know are true, they can tear down this temple, but they can’t touch you. 

(Excerpts from “Cathedral Made of People” by Downhere)

Andrew is more than a name left on a defaced wall of a tiny, forlorn chapel; he’s a stained glass window in the house of God. Peter was more than a made-up pile of bones that supposedly required people to donate large amounts of money; he’s a pillar in the temple Christ built, just as he himself told us. “Living Stones” he called us. Even I have a role to play. I can be like this door, ushering people in to the places where they can meet with my Savior. I don’t have to mourn the loss of Jesus’ face on the Cluny façade, for he is carving himself into each of us as we walk the cobblestone streets and seek to be his hands and feet in a tangible way.

The historian in me is still upset that I’m surveying ruins when it so easily could’ve been the 12^th century colossal masterpiece that it was. But the emotion of gratefulness swells stronger. No human plan could wipe out the truth in Cluny. Not this time. Not ever.

Coolest door ever!

Fall Party 2012

I just rediscovered pictures of my rockin' students at Fall Party. Check them out:

 SC arm wrestles the Hulk, Mr. R.

 Blind racing: Superman versus another Hulk

 The cast of Tintin - love these 6th graders!

 Batman jumps in to scare me!

AD and KG as Incredible family girls

The Girls are Back!

I crawled up to the back of the school amid dozens of dorm vans and parents' cars loaded to the brim with high school and middle school students. Realizing it would be impossible to find a place to park, I meandered my way over to the gravel lot, and parked illegally next to a trailer. It was the first Wednesday of Small Groups, and the sound of squealing and excitement could be heard the instant I opened my car door. As I rounded the corner of the building, a group of girls caught sight of me, and the next thing I knew, a flash of color was coming at me as two of my girls launched themselves into my arms. And wow, did it feel good to see them again.

My co-leader and I have the privilege of walking through this Sophomore year with the same 5 girls as last: HR with her innocent questions and sensitive heart, CB whose quiet quirky sense of humor and artistic eye impress us every week, PM with her bubbliness and genuine desire to grow more like Christ, HH whose heart bleeds for the world and who longs to feel Christ's affection for her, and EE who - with her mothering capabilities - rounds out the group and pulls truth out of the depths of our hearts. What can I say? I simply love these girls!

The photos below are from last week when I was able to pass along some gifts that my supporting church (Treasure Valley Baptist Church of Oregon) sent with me this summer. To say that they were thrilled is an understatement. Thanks TVBC!

Fall is here!

And the most vivid evidence that Fall is indeed here is less in the colors and more in the fact that Fall Party happened! The theme this year was Comics, and the M.S. staff pulled together to bring Disney to life. Sadly, Mickey couldn't make it, but we did have Minnie, Goofy, Donald & Daisy, Scrooge McDuck, and the three boys - Huey, Dewey, and Louie. I was Dewey. I think we had more fun creating the costumes and parading around downtown in yellow tights than at the actual party! :-)

Of course, there is other proof that my favorite time of the year is here: flowers, grapes from my neighbor, pumpkin, carrots, and salad from the Farmer's Market. I'd blog more, but I need to get outside for a walk. I love Fall!!!

Finishing the race

Courtesy of kidsrunningwild.net

Last year when I ran the 7k in Basel, I really got hooked on running. It's not that I enjoy running all that much. I have two heroic friends who share about the meaningful prayers they have when the run and the joy they feel in the process, the joy they know God feels. I just don't. I've tried. I don't. However, I have discovered that I love love love races! I'm not sure why, but the atmosphere and the crowds and knowing exactly how much ground I covered in how much time and the t-shirt and especially the camaraderie - that's something I can run for.

And there is something to be said for the accomplishment, for a race finished. Hebrews 12:1-2 has been a recurring verse at the Middle School so far this year, highlighting the various aspects of running the race set before us (God's design, not ours) and running it well. It's about getting rid of the things that entangle, about focusing on the finish line where Christ stands, about allowing the crowd of witnesses to be your "cheering squad" as I called it for the Middle Schoolers.

After the 7k last September and watching several friends complete the half-marathon, I secretly added the half-marathon (21k) to my own bucket list. I didn't dream it would ever come so soon, but last Sunday, I was able to cross it off. I owe a lot of gratitude to Jill Musick for her patience and encouragement along the way. My goal was to finish without stopping in hopefully under 2 1/2 hours. Her goal was to help me make my goal. Isn't that what the body of Christ should be doing for each other as we all run the race before us? I also owe a lot to the crowd of ~10 BFA friends who made signs and screamed and cheered and hollered and annoyed all the stoic Swiss onlookers to make sure we finished well. Talk about a crowd of witnesses!

Rounding the last corner (Jill on far left)

the three half-marathoners

with Rachel and our medals
(Photos courtesy of Rachel)

It felt amazing to finish, and praise be to God, I finished in under 2 1/2 hours, just nine minutes before the first marathoner (and yes, we started at the same time...). I had a great time celebrating afterwards with water and medals and friends, but rest assured: the full marathon has not made its way onto my bucket list. I think I'll be content from here on out with 10k's. :-)

Geocentric Geography

This is too good not to share. It comes from my Geography 7 class, and my first thought was one of irony: In History, I'm trying to take the kids back to the Middle Ages; in Geography, I'm trying to get them out.

Am I there yet?

What was I thinking?!? Signing up for a half marathon? As of right now, I have three long trianing races left. Ugh.

Seeking cooler temps

It's been hot here in Germany since my return 4 days ago, and TCK's are nothing if no resourceful. My experience growing up in Austria without air conditioning taught me that on the particularly unbearable days, going UP in elevation can help.

Hochblauen is the closest mountain/foothill near our town, and the elevation difference is somewhere around 800 meters (or 2,400 feet). So, Emily and I decided to give it a try, and we were rewarded with a nice, cool, shady spot where we read and played a game for a few hours of afternoon relief. Plus, check out our view! It was one of the best haze-less days I've had on Hochblauen so that I even saw some Swiss Alps way off in the distance. Praise God for elevation!

Going to the fair

I remember very vividly my first fair. I was 19 years old and fresh off the boat from Austria, so the sight of so many animals in one place and the conglomeration of smells - fried food, manure, engine grease, and stale popcorn - nearly knocked me off my feet. But I loved it!

So when I arrived in Ontario, OR, early August for a weekend with a supporting church, and they told me the County Fair was going on, I was super excited! TV Baptist Church had a table in the Exhibition Center, and I was signed up to work one of the 4-hour shifts Friday afternoon, but I showed up early so that I could walk the grounds.

My adventure began in the Art Barn. I saw one of the most amazing photographs of a little boy looking up admiringly at his Dad while fishing in a lake. Then there were the aisles and aisles of homemade quilts. Talk about hours of work in one spot. The home-making section was fascinating with colored ribbons adorning jars of jam and platters of pies. But my favorite thing in this barn were the giant vegetables: there was a squash the size of head! (We just don't grow them that big in Germany.)

From there I wandered over to the arena for cattle showing. I happened to catch the scene during the Junior Competition, and the little boys and girls looked so cute in their denim jeans, checkered shirts and cowboy boots and hat to match. It must've been hot for most of them in that sun though. I found it interesting what the judges were focused on. I would have thought the cows that had their heads down or who were the hardest to get into position would be eliminated first, but they cared more about the stance of their legs. Who knew? I still don't know why ...

For lunch I had the world's best lemonade I've ever tasted (I went back for more in a different flavor twice) as well as that juicy burger, and then I found the TVBC people working the table. It was so neat. As part of the exhibition, we had a replica Repenomamus dinosaur names Pspot (pronounced Spot). He was quite the attraction, especially for some of the younger kids, and as I teacher I was naturally drawn to them. We handed out hundreds of tracts, and one of the best conversations I had was with a lady who said she attended another church in town. I told her I was visiting TVBC and invited her to come that Sunday. She ended up sharing a lot of personal family matters with me, and we exchanged names and cards with the promise to pray for each other. Nothing else can quite give you that feeling of flying high as connecting with someone in the Lord. What a neat privilege to do that all around the world.

Yep, it's decided. I love fairs!

Grief

The past two weeks I've been attending WorldVenture's Home Assignment Debrief. I truly appreciate that my mission sees value in giving us structured time in which they give us updates on changes at the home office, we reflect on our last few years in small groups, and we generally have lots of time to rest, free from speaking engagements and support raising. One of the sessions today was on the topic of mourning. People experience loss every day; missionaries' grief is often compounded when regular losses (keys, fire, job change, death, ...) collide with extra losses (moving overseas, family traditions, home culture, home language, favorite food, everything familiar, ...).

As part of our session, we looked at Jesus' grief in four different passages: Matthew 14, John 11, Luke 19:41, and Hebrews 5:7. We had to look at the WHAT and the HOW Jesus mourned these various losses and see what we could apply to our own lives. The main thought that stood out to me was a very simple truth - it's possible for even the same person to grieve differently each time.

Taking this and applying it to the TCK's I work with, I was a bit overwhelmed to think that
1. these kids encounter tons of losses for so young a life
2. each time they grieve, it may look completely different from the last time
3. our campus has 320 of these individuals who may grieve completely differently each time.

How do I prepare for that? How can I possibly offer each TCK I work with exactly what he or she needs in that moment of grief? The answer is I can't. My job is the same as it every was: to be a vessel, a channel of God's grace to them so that HE can offer them exactly what they need. According to our session today, one of the biggest graceful acts I can do is to simply give them permission to grieve. No one wants to lose, and no one wants to mourn, but it is hard to avoid. Especially for TCK's.

Please pray with me as I work through grieving my own losses, minor though they may be (see previous posts), and even more, pray that I can best serve my TCK's who mourn.

The Flower Pot

                         The Flower Pot
                                     Romans 9:21-23

Sparkle of blue
             in wasteland of gray:
simple forgotten pot

                         Red terracotta wrapped in sapphire glaze 

                         Potter’s etched ridges now smeared in ash

lumpish
unassuming
reliable
ordinary 

Created for use but not honor                         

                                       – much like us –
Testimony to God’s purposes:

                   be hardened in the first fire

                                 bring glory in the second

Fire

I’ve sat down twenty times in an attempt to write a blog about the last week, and the emotions overwhelm me every time. It’s not the grief for things lost – the books, hand-carved desks, family tree, Gmundner Keramik, and photo albums. I stopped tearing up about those things on Thursday. Rather, it’s the outpouring of love by the Body of Christ. It has knocked me off my feet. We read about how we’re the bride of Christ, meant to be radiant, drawing people in, getting ready for his return and our big wedding day. Well, this week, it surpassed the mere sense of sight for me, from words on a page into reality. I felt it in the hugs, heard about it in the gifts, and tasted it in the tears.

It’s still hard to believe my parents’ and Scotti + Fiona’s house is gone, even though we’re past the initial shock and definitely in the hard period of logistics now: ordering checks, buying shoes, meeting with insurance agents, and painstakingly trying to remember what was in each room for the itemization. (And by “we,” I really mean them). This is the beginning of the slow rebuilding phase, of trying to return to some normalcy. Poor Livvi – she’s probably having the hardest time with it. How do you explain to a 2-year-old why you can’t just return home and why all her old toys are gone?

On Sunday, the whole family (minus me, sadly) got to return and sift through the ashes. It was emotional, though not as sad as anyone had anticipated. The only few things that survived were some pottery items and a couple of mugs that had been in the dishwasher. However, it was cathartic for them to be able to say good-bye with their own eyes and hands. In typical grace-filled fashion, as they have been demonstrating all week, the four adults who lost everything came out smiling.

Obviously, I can’t wait to join them, but in the mean time, I’m relishing seeing the Body at work. One lady took Fiona shopping for clothes for the whole family and footed the bill. At Dick Sporting Goods the other day, the sales clerk recognized their street name, and they made my parents pick out more stuff and sold it all at cost to them. Here in Minnesota, both at my church and at my brother’s, two ladies have come up to us with brand new socks and sheets and toys for us to take down and share. And the youcaring.com site that a friend set up for my family has passed an astounding $12,000! You can’t tell me the Church has forgotten how to love. 

This is just overwhelming, and I probably need to finish this post, so I can go cry again. Praise God for his faithfulness, and thank you for your prayers and gifts as we all continue to process.

Lugano 2012

For a week every May, the Middle School has what it calls "Experiential Learning Week" or "Classroom without Walls." The 6th and 7th graders have 2 days of field trips and 2 days of other in-class activities that often include service projects or skills (e.g. cooking is a common favorite). Meanwhile, the 8th grade class gets to go to Lugano, Switzerland, where they visit castles, go on a Science Hike, and process what it means that they are now finishing Middle School and moving on to High School. It usually ends up being a bonding experience for the students.

This year, we praise God for the beautiful weather and for all the smooth travel and logistics. Personally, I praise Him for some fantastic conversations about living out God's calling our lives as MK's as well as the need to keep him as our core even when the world around us shifts completely. For some of these 8th graders, this is the end of their BFA experience, and the transition out can be just as painful as the transition in.

SK and DC on top of San Salvatore Mountain

LG, LA, and SW rocking out on some toys during the hike

With fellow teacher, Rachel

The 2011/12 8th grade class