Dry Spaghetti

Chaos reigned. Balloons and dry spaghetti noodles were everywhere, kids were squealing, and adults darted in and out of the mess with instructions and cameras. We were midway through the annual Mega Relay at High School Retreat.

Having become an annual tradition for this weekend, the Mega Relay is a crazy 12-course relay, in which you run all the relay challenges back to back without pause. Every year, Lance outdoes himself with creativity, such as making us transport pasta in our hair. But the kids’ favorite part is rarely the relay itself; it’s the fact that Small Groups come dressed up in some kind of matching costumes. This year, for example, my senior girls came as superheroes with capes we designed ourselves using stickers and coordinated masks. Another group came in prison uniforms while their leader was dressed as a cop. One girls group dressed like senior citizens, complete with wigs and curlers and canes; every few minutes their leaders handed them tic tacs and told them to “take their medicine.” The favorite group of the night, however, was the boys group who looked like hot dogs, and their leader was the chef and fashioned himself a person-sized spatula.

And so it was that we found ourselves midway through the relay, having completed all 12 games, and sitting at the center line waiting for other groups to wrap up. They girls were busy picking noodles out of our hair when MG gasped sharply and slapped two of her peers on the knees. “Guys, I just had the best costume idea for next year! We should --” but we never got to hear her idea, for at that moment it hit her that they were seniors. There is no “next year.” This had just been their final Mega Relay. As her face fell and her lip quivered, seven arms reached around her for a collective “awww” and a hug. 

I was both thrilled that she would be excited about a next year with this group and crushed at the thought that it’s quickly coming to an end. I pray that wherever my girls find themselves next year on High School Retreat weekend, that it’s a place of friendship, laughter, and dry spaghetti noodles. That it’s a place where Jesus’ name is spoken often and joyously worshiped. That they’ll find themselves to be known and loved.

Mega Relay costumes

Photos courtesy of BFA Communications

Analogies of Game Time

It was beautiful. I was standing in the gym for game time amidst blaring music and flying dodgeballs, and I had to fight back a swell of emotions because in front of me, kids were playing “Protect the President.” A Middle Schooler stood in the center, and one of their Senior leaders was attempting to take all the hits of the dodgeballs being thrown at their kid. Every time someone from the edge successfully hit the Middle School “President,” they got to run to the middle to become the new target, and the best part for me was watching their Senior leader in the moment he/she recognized the new president was one of theirs. Without fail, they launched themselves into the center as well and started diving in front of dodgeballs and wrapping their young protege behind themselves. One of them nearly fell on top of his kid in an attempt to protect the guy from ball-shaped ammunition.

It was an analogy of my life. Me, the helpless little needy child clinging to the back of my Defender and Savior. Jesus, taking all the shots meant for me. And he doesn’t just do it because he has to or happens to be in the way. He’s throwing himself in front of death for me. Like I said: it was beautiful.

Gratitude made my heart swell. Gratitude for what Jesus has done for me, and gratitude for what these Seniors are doing for their Middle Schoolers. Let's do it again next week.

Defenders

It's a Love Story

After multiple days of coughing, sneezing, sleeping, fevering, and more nose-blowing than I thought possible, I was finally out of my house and among the living. It was tournament day after all, and I had committed to driving the Middle School teams to Bern. (Of course the coach said he could find an alternative driver, but I reasoned that my task would mostly involve sitting and either driving or cheering, so I’d be fine.) And what a first day back it was.

We started with back-to-back games for the girls and then immediate back-to-back games for the guys. After months of practice for these teams and only a sprinkling of scrimmages up to this point, it was fun to see them get to run strategies they’d been planning and put their trust in one another to the test. By lunchtime, the girls were undefeated, and the boys had 2 wins and 1 loss. It was beautiful to watch them rotate back and forth between the two courts, either fighting themselves or cheering on their classmates with loud rounds of “F-A. F-A-L. F-A-L-C-O-N-S! Let’s go Falcons!”

At one point in the afternoon, as the girls were heading into the playoffs, I noticed that the usual leading point scorers weren't shooting as much. Rather, they were passing the ball off to the younger, shall we say less experienced/skilled players and shouting “Shoot” at them. Diligently the younger ones always responded with an attempt at the basket, usually a bit short. But when 6th grader EW’s shot circled and dropped through the net, the entire bench lost their minds. When AW did it a few minutes later, the eruption was so loud that even the boys’ teams all had to look over to see what had happened. All they saw was the ear-to-ear grin of the shortest player on the court.

I teared up a little bit. The relentless way they spent the next game tossing it to ED and CD so that they could also count a basket among their successes of the day, the enthusiastic way the boys cheered for the girls’ 1st place trophy even though they themselves got the raw end of the three-way tie-breaker rules, the countless offers I got this week to drop off meals and tissues and ginger ale - it all spoke to me of the beauty when community lives as it should. When it seeks to lift others up, not tear them down for personal gain. It is a love story, a reflection of the greatest love story.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Look at that love

And yet more love

Fitting In versus Belonging

I’ve been listening to an audiobook by Lauren Wells, the founder of TCK Training and Unstacking Company. She has multiple books; this one is called Raising up a Generation of Healthy Third Culture Kids and is targeting mainly parents or those who work with TCK’s. So, as both a TCK and someone working with TCK’s, I thought I might as well give it a read.

Wow, have I been humbled. I still have so much to learn. As I listened this weekend, she touched on the differences between “belonging” and “fitting in.” Informally, she asked some TCK’s how they see the difference. Some answers included the following two ideas:

• Fitting in can be done anywhere or with anyone, but belonging is only in some places or with some groups.

• I change my behaviors and words to fit in, but I’m free to be myself when I belong.

It might be easy to look at those and think, “Okay, I know where you’re going: fitting in = bad; belonging = good.” But, that’s not the case. Fitting in is absolutely necessary. It’s a survival skill, and it often benefits not just the TCK, but others as well. Friends have commented that I’m really good at navigating transportation whenever we visit a new place. Honestly, I think it’s just a survival skill I’ve picked up along the way: the reading of maps, watching others to see how to buy or validate tickets, the hyper-awareness of every stop, etc. Fitting in is about more than avoiding the stares, about joining the natural flow of pace. It’s often a validation of how things are done, an appreciation for the differences with a willingness to learn and adapt to them.

Belonging isn’t automatically better, but it is a layer beyond, deeper. It’s connected to identity. If fitting in is your way of validating the new place, belonging is when you yourself feel validated, accepted. To belong somewhere is to know how a certain place impacted who you are have become, even if it's merely one aspect of your personality or character. You get to taste the notion of putting down roots in a place, of finding yourself to be wanted. You're adding to the beauty, not just navigating the chaos. Here in Kandern, for instance, fitting in was subtly learning that the most acceptable time for putting out your garbage can is between 7:30 and 8:00pm the night before. Belonging was being told that our neighborhood was having an evening grill-out and that I got to pick the date to make sure I could be there.

Of course, there’s a sadness in knowing I won’t ever have a place where my roots go deep, where I’ll belong forever and happily spend all the rest of my days. And I’ve come to peace with that. It’s why so many TCK’s find their belonging in relationships rather than in geography anyway, why I believe in this transitory-permanent place we call BFA in which our students’ roots become tangled with each other for a season before flying off again. We witness a lot of fitting in and hopefully also some belonging, even if it's temporary. But we hold to the hope for that one day. One day fitting in and belonging will both come easily because we'll all be home. Forever.

the day my team accidentally all wore the same hoodie

Breath of 2024

 It's the last day of the year. I feel both pressured but also invited to reflect back on the highs and lows of 2024. For instance, what a privilege it was to ring in the new year on the other side of the globe amidst the craziness that is a Hawaiian New Year's Eve (iykyk). In March, I traveled to Uganda on undoubtedly the best short-term service project I've ever been on. The summer weeks in the states were full of connections, both new and renewed, and I capped off the summer with a unique experience by getting to attend some Olympic Games in Paris. That was a dream come true! New arrivals to Kandern have meant new friends, and I'm loving a second year of being Middle School Chaplain. My admiration for my small group girls and their growth this year has reached new levels. And the final icing on the cake was a visit from my Dad in December and a life-changing chapel, at least for one student.

On the sadder side, 2024 held some emotional good-byes as good friends departed for new adventures. Multiple flights left me stranded and delayed, and I spent a lot of the early months sick - including a food poisoning incident. I witnessed a couple of marriages fall apart and the loss of a beloved unborn baby. Sometimes the reality of living in a broken world is truly heart-breaking.

As I've reflected today, I also looked back at the Scriptures I was led to study this year, some my own choice and some out of necessity for my job, most on my own yet some in community. Here's a short list:
- the Psalms
- Leviticus
- Heaven and the Afterlife
- 1 Samuel
- 1&2 Peter
- the Tabernacle
- Christmas devotional from Grace Church Roseville

The Tabernacle and the Psalms study stand out as my delight this year. I picked up the Tabernacle study as part of our BFA theme of "dwell," and I chose to dive into the Psalms because I actually struggle to read them regularly. I confess that so much poetry at once always bores me. So my challenge this year was to either re-write them in my own words or turn them into prayers. If you'll indulge me, here's a sample of Psalm 146.

    Sing praise. Make much of Yahweh, our God!
        As long as you this being and live on earth, look to him.
    Rather than trusting any single son of man,
        hope in the Son of Man.
        His salvation will last beyond your breath.
    On the day your plans die, his take over.
        His help comes from the God of Jacob,
        who created all your see and are, even your breath.
    He will keep the faith forever.
        Only through him can you feed the poor and dispense justice to the oppressed.

    Yahweh, you open the blind eyes to see and life up the depressed to joy.
        You love those whom others overlook;
        you guard your pilgrim travelers.
    You reign forever, to all generations. 
        That's why I use this breath to praise.

Re-reading this one today reminded me that I have much to praise the Lord for when I look back on 2024. He was once again faithful and woke me up to life every single day. I pray that the breaths I took and spent pleased him on the whole, and I aim to use these lungs to point others to him faithfully in 2025.

What did your 2024 hold?

December Adventures with Old & New Friends

Thoughts on Generosity

I still remember her gap-toothed smile as she placed a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stop all motion and be in the moment with her. “Are you a pilgrim?” she asked, but in Portuguese, so all I understood was “peregrino?” When I nodded, she reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out 2 oranges. With a sparkle in her eye, she proceeded to place them in my hands before reaching in for 2 more. I shook my head vehemently, partly because I didn’t want her to believe an old custom of blessing pilgrims in order to be blessed, but also because I don’t love oranges. Yet she refused to take them back and somehow piled on the 2 extra ones into my arms. In some words I couldn’t fully understand, I think she was telling me to pass them on to others as well. Finally I assented and placed them into my pack before turning to her to say “Obrigada” as many times as I could. She cupped her hands over her heart before placing them over mine in a tender gesture. Generosity.

Last week we learned about the uber generosity of a BFA alum who is gifting our school with a bridge loan at 0% interest so that we could purchase a new dorm building 6 months earlier than we thought we would. It’s an amount of generosity at a level I can only dream of, but it’s also no more or less real than the Portuguese farmer lady because the reality is that generosity can't be measured in the worth of the gift but in motivation of the heart. Jesus pointed that out with the widow’s mite.

It was American Thanksgiving on Thursday (we have to distinguish here between American, Canadian, and German), and while it was a normal workday for me - a long one, to boot - it’s still a marker to pause and acknowledge the wealth of gifts I live in every day. I mean, my salary literally comes from the generosity of many supporters. The next day, I was privileged to be a chaperone on the English 7 field trip to see a performance of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. One of the major themes in that play is of course the learning of gratitude and generosity, and it was fascinating to talk to a student about that afterwards. We both walked away wondering how our hearts could be softer from the start.

So, as November comes to a close, I’m asking the Lord to do that work, both in my heart and in the hearts of my students. I desire to both be incredibly intentional with my generosity this season as well as spontaneous and free.

 
Oranges and Christmas Carols

a Psalm of Gratitude

The MS play has come and gone. A two-month labor of love and tears and endurance reaches its pique in a 72-hour time frame in which adrenaline courses through all their tiny bodies and we perform 3 times for the community audiences. And it all went so much better than I expected at the 73-hour mark. The kids put their offering on the stage, and I’m so grateful that God was pleased to accept it and turn it into something beautiful. Here’s my Psalm 136-esque praise:

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever.

Give thanks to the God of gods and Lord of lords. His love endures forever.

To him who alone does great works. His love endures forever.

Who brought us through 3 performances of our show. His love endures forever.

Who helped us remember lines and props. His love endures forever.

Who allowed lights and sounds to work. His love endures forever.

Who gave us audiences that laughed and cried. His love endures forever.

Who blessed our meager offering on the stage. His love endures forever.

Who causes gratitude to well up in our hearts. His love endures forever.

Give thanks to the God of heaven for the success of the MS play. His love endures forever.

Pictures courtesy of BFA's Communications Department