It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Christmas. In Bolivia? Without snow, and cold weather, and songs about snow?

I do have to say, even though it doesn't completely feel like Christmas is coming here as the temperature rises each day, having Christmas music constantly play in the staff lounge as well as while I am resting in my room in the evenings makes it a bit easier to cope with missing seventeen of the twenty-five days of Christmas. Yet, without a doubt, as we ride the minibus through the city, bright tacky Christmas decorations and singing lights fill the tiendas and demand that Christmas comes soon anyway.

We have our Christmas program this evening (in honor of the last week of the semester starting Monday) and it is a joy to teach the kids our North American Christmas carols even while I am harshly reminded as the ESL teacher that a ton of the lyrics do not make any sense in modern English. Explaining why "the Lord is come" instead of "the Lord has come" is just a battle I have chosen to lose.

This past month (I realized it has been over a month since I last wrote) has provided a number of realizations and has stretched me in many ways.

I remember coming to school one day with a horrible attitude and a negativity towards my morning chapel song duty. Feeling completely disheveled, I was humbled as the songs we sang completely repeated the frustrations of my heart that I needed to place at the Lord's feet. I didn't feel put together. I didn't feel like I had much influence. Yet, as a Senior high school student stood up and shared for over an hour concerning his life of drugs and how God has rescued him from that through being at our school, I was seriously humbled. Even in one semester, I have seen student after student change...seeking a life that is so much greater than what they had already known. It is neat to share Christ with them as we just love of them and live life with them. As has been my prayer in so many ways, I don't want to wish away days, or months, or years.

We did enjoy a Thanksgiving break which included a 12 hour bus ride to Arequipa, Peru. It was a lot of traveling and slightly tiring, but sometimes a change of scenery is exactly what I need. In fact, I recall the ride back. After long hours in bus stations, on a bus, and at the Bolivian-Peruvian border, I felt such relief at the sight of the La Paz mountains. I can't even begin to fully describe what it is like to look over the city pasted over the mountains, almost looking like a fierce battle between nature and civilization. Whatever it looked like, it looked and felt like home. What a great feeling to know that the place where God has called me feels somewhat like home. I was relieved to breathe, to find familiarity in where I was coming and going, and to be in my own apartment again.

I am fully thrilled for the coming week where I will step foot on North American soil.....hopefully eating some Cold Stone and Panera. But I'm excited to also know where I will return, and that I have a place here. A place that one day I realize I might be celebrating Christmas in the heat of the summer weather. But I can worry about that when the time comes. For now....It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

On your behalf

Last week, I had the great opportunity of leading elementary chapel. We meet up once a week to sing, share a Bible story, and enjoy staring at the excited Friday faces of all the little children.

In seeking to connect the prior week's lesson to what we would be talking about, I quickly asked the kids..."Okay guys. Can anyone tell me what big word we learned last week?" Anticipating the answer easily being "Intercession", I was completely thrown off when the kid I called on answered with an intensely confused face while saying "Conception?" Hmm. A topic I probably won't bring up in chapel anytime soon.

I love God's precious timing with the connections of the very things we have to convey to children becoming the very things we have to truly learn in our own lives. Intercession, or the importance of praying for others, isn't necessarily a new lesson, but it is a good one.

For example, you learn more about a community when you are with them at least 8 hours a day and sometimes more than 5 days a week. There have honestly been moments in the past few weeks when I have felt the "smallness" of the community, or the "fishbowl" so we call it, cave in around me. I have asked myself the question between what is gossip and what is simply finding the right person to share things with. Even more, Satan can more easily divide a community that is already so small and connected anyway.

Yet, even in the pressure of tension constantly caving in around me, I have seen the beautiful way God not only changes our hearts through interceding for the Body around us, but also allows us to see Him move when we are praying for others. In light of this, thank you for praying for me! It is through your prayers that I believe God is transforming my life and the lives around me. Keep praying...

"Un gusto, Bolivia."

In my job, it's always easy to get tickled and find myself laughing with the students. Their quirky English accents can make any word amusing. Of course, my job is to help them out with this pronunciation. But until then...smiles are constantly brought to my face.

I am consistently called "La Misses Esteele." They know I'm not married, but it is much too natural for them to throw "e" sounds in front of the "s" and apply the Bolivian way of defining that I for sure a woman by using the article "la". Often, the tides are turned from my correcting them to their laughing at my own pronunciation of words like "bocadillo"....a pronunciation they claim is too much from the European continent and should be readjusted in order to be truly "boliviana." 

Sometimes, things don't have to do with only pronunciation. In fact, I might change a letter or an entire word to misplace what I am trying to express. The other day, my roommates and I were in the bakery. I wanted to order two small jelly cookies names "ojitos"-meaning little eyes. Yet, in wanting to speed up my order, I ignored the normal wisdom of actually thinking about what I was saying and spoke the word I read on the notecard in front of them, "Quisiera dos ositos"-or better said, "I would like two little bears." The lady at the bakery had a priceless face while trying to make out in her mind how exactly she could complete this order. I still was processing that which I had said.

I'm enjoying these little things of acclimation that happen each day. Of course, I can throw the "cultural quirks" in this category too. For example, a recent addition to our teaching staff did not know that  taxi etiquette requires entering and sliding all the way over as quickly as possibly to encourage safe and rapid travel. Therefore, in trying to be a gentleman, he let me in and shut the door to go around. The taxi driver couldn't figure out what was going on as our new staff member chases behind it yelling and smacking the trunk.

At futbol games, such as the one I went to the other day, being "viva" is a needed trait. No one cares about you or your ticket, so you yourself have to care and be aggressive to get your place. More so, the streets are lined with food stand after food stand...a very Bolivian thing. I became acquainted with my first "anticucho" (cow heart) and currently am continuing in that knowledge with my stomach on a few hour cycle. It's safe to say that cow and I are not friends anymore. 

And today, my friends, is election day. This means everything is once again shut down and transportation is all done on foot. We walked from the 5th street of my city to the 60th street to get our full taste of another pedestrian day. I did not know that seeking out a patch of green grass in one of the richest neighborhoods (nestled by the poverty of the campo) and then proceeding to lay down in it would make my heart so happy.

All this to say, acclimating hasn't been so bad....in fact, it has been quite amusing. These little moments keep life here fresh and exciting....bring it on.

Letting off the brakes slowly

After the planned trip to climb a nearby mountain fell through, the second best option proved to be biking down the "World's Most Dangerous Road" this past weekend. (Okay, okay. So maybe I live for adventures?) Don't worry....as my dad quickly responded with the question, "And why was this called the most dangerous road?" I am happy to share with you the reasoning behind this. Apparently, years ago, a vast number of car accidents occurred on this road, as the road is no bigger than one lane and was open for cars going each way with a cliff on one side and a mountain on the other.

However, despite the odds, going down on a bicycle made specifically for downhill and also so early in the morning that no other bike tour groups were in the way (it's illegal for cars to pass through now), made this a basically safe endeavor. My friend Tom Bjorlie and I were thrilled at the constant warming of the weather  as we made our way down. Even more, my spirit came alive as the mountain passes (which started out to be snowy and foggy) became greener and filled with a sweeter air. I felt myself letting off the brakes a little more with each kilometer. This was the life.

After the ride (which I feel I could do multiple times in a row and never get bored), we met up with a group of Highlands' teachers in Coroico, a little town nestled near the Yungas. Yes, it was a bit of a tourist trap (not my cup of tea usually), but I am confident that we all needed the refreshment of an increased amount of oxygen, a great time to hang out and get to know each other, and hours upon hours of not being told we had to be somewhere or do something.

Of course, stepping back into life in La Paz was a quick shock. Again though, I am reminded that I love being here. I love the life of which God has asked me to be a part. I love sweet times on Tuesday evenings sharing with the hearts of high school girls. I love walking places. And can I say I even love consistency at times?

Which Pair Today?

I was warned before I arrived here of the utter destruction which the streets of La Paz would bring upon every pair of shoes I own. As a result of my training for a possible mountain climb, walking ridiculous sized hills (or they should very well be called mountains) seems to be the most logical form of training. Thus, each day, I find a way to lead yet another pair of boots or sandals to its end as I journey upon the many uneven and broken sidewalks while exploring the in's and out's of just what this city is all about. Maybe upon returning to the states, I will be required to invest in a few more pairs of shoes (Chacos please!)....but haven't they served their purpose well? And during my explorations, my thoughts begin to take flight...

La Paz. Known as the city of "peace". Tranquil. Calm. Harmony. Agreement. Neutrality. An easily accessible thesaurus tells me my community should be this way by label, but my surroundings tell me otherwise.

Satan is clever. With more ways to attack than one, it was recently brought to my attention when I was asked begin to notice the very tactic which he tends to use most amongst the people of La Paz. Peace? Once a city maybe characterized by peace, La Paz very well may change its name. Not to alarm you. I promise I do not walk around in fear as I traverse the city on a daily basis. But I can agree with the statements that the natural tendencies toward "conflict" seem to be a theme here. Whether it be minor, affecting a brief interaction on the street, or grand enough to rattle the core of a city's political and social foundation, conflict is definitely here and thriving.

While many were enjoying a United States Labor Day holiday, we ourselves were enjoying a day off as well. Only, ours was unexpected and a result of blockades near the school during which debated, to my understanding, owners of various parts of the land. There is a long history of debates and prejudice (which is preeminent in many Latin American countries) which have yet to be filtered out, and, I presume, will continue to infiltrate our community. There is even talk of another strike next week which could limit bus routes, and thus..offer the possibility of once again canceling school.

In our Highlands women's Bible Study, we are beginning the study of First John. As we were reading over the introduction, I was attracted to the very passion John conveys as he invites his readers into such a beautiful challenge of love. As the opposite of conflict could very well be peace, I think it is also love. I believe conflict cannot last where true love reigns. In love, one must lay down his right, his entitlement, his own motive. More so, John witnessed the love of Jesus Christ throughout his time with Him, and it made it that much easier to proclaim his invitation of eternal life, "so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ."

So, the question that resonated with me last night was the following: "What am I inviting my friends, my family, and my students into?" In a world where conflict is all many of my students know when they go home, is the invitation to come and enter into the peace of the gospel so attractive to them that it meets them and transforms what they "know" of the world? As believers, we live "to preach good news of peace" (Acts 10:36). The peace we speak of "surpasses all understanding" (Phil. 4:7), because our "God is not a God of confusion (or conflict), but of peace" (1 Cor. 14:33).

So, I am challenged. And I challenge you, fellow believer, to put your shoes on today. Your good pair, please. May they be fitted, sturdy, strong, and doing nothing but carrying the gospel of peace where you go. Then, from your feet....or where you go...to your heart...or what you dwell upon in the depths of who you are..."Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts to which you were called in one body" (Col. 3:15). Keep walking, and invite people to come with you. It's a great journey.

And He smiled....

First of all, thank you to all the many inquiries concerning the dog bite. I would love to inform you that I am officially done with my six vaccinations (after which I think the doctor was sick of seeing me). Also, I feel fine and look forward to my next defense against any dog who thinks he can take me down. 


During the unexpected adventure, I was able to experience a lady falling asleep on my shoulder in a minibus, to learn my way to the bus station and back, and to learn that using the bathroom at a public clinic should very well be avoided. In fact, bathrooms at doctor's offices should be clean right?


In all honesty, as crazy of a week that it was, I feel as if I was able to truly feel and see God's presence amidst it all. The times on the buses gave me moments to think, reflect, and pray. Maybe this was necessary as the heaviness of getting to know the students and many of their difficult lives began to weigh upon me. 


I specifically recall elementary chapel this week as all the students shifted from station to station while focusing on different aspects of prayer. I could feel God's pleasure in that room as the children wrote prayers to God and expressed themselves concerning His desire to listen to them. As I really am challenged by the idea that God changes the hardest of hearts, I also am able to watch these hearts give way to the flood of love God has for them. Their stories, their conversations, and their relationships with each other can be so easily tainted by the world around them. Even as children, their natural tendencies are to lie, to hate, to do things for selfish ambition. Yet, I am watching little ones fight this on a daily basis. I am watching many of them respond to truth. By this, I am challenged and convicted. And my prayer becomes this: "God, protect their innocence. Draw them unto yourself while they are surrounded by truth and people who love them so much. Guard them against any disgusting and disturbing schemes of Satan to destroy them and their future Christian influence in this world...because one day, you will change this world through them."

Run, Forest, Run

"Sure, let's go down to the closest pueblo. It's not a long run," Amanda and Becky said as we started our thirty minutes of jogging after school on Wednesday. I threw in my headphones and was ready to let off a bit of steam from a crazy day with students.

Maybe my focus was off, or maybe my focus was too much on the music. Either way, I ignored the two stray dogs with their owner ahead. I must note: I have been thoroughly warned concerning stray dogs in Bolivia. Some come with rabies vaccinations, many live their whole life without them. They are territorial and scare easily. These truths became far more of a reality to me as I nonchalantly ran past the large black and small white dog. I barely even remember the three seconds which passed between my first step near the dogs and the moment when they had surrounded me barking. Quickly, I was made aware of the black dog's aggression as he came up behind me and bit me....yes... on the butt.

I'm sure my intense scream did not help the tension of the moment, but remaining calm in this situation was next to impossible. Of course, bending down...thus decreasing the space between my face and the dog's...was absolutely not an option. Finally, after some wiggling and uncontrollable waving of my arms, the dogs' owner called them away.

After the initial pain of the bite deadened a bit, the jokes and anticipation for my foaming at the mouth began. It turns out, doctors don't easily give out rabies shots, or at least not for a cheap price. On top of this, the vaccination requires a marvelous series of 10 shots. We found the nearest (40 minutes away) free health clinic and I decided that salvation from possible rabies surpassed any fear of the horror movie-like clinic we entered after school yesterday.

So now, the dilemma of finding the dog, its owner, and any possible paperwork faces me. If I can't seem to run into the dog (one of the thousands in Bolivia), I will be looking forward to a week and a half of minibus trips to the city. But life without ravenous mouth foaming is worth-it, right? I would say so.

I dedicate this blog to Scott Frost who has found great pleasure in reminding me of and sharing this story as much as possible.

Also, the new motto of the year: When life gets ahold of you, turn the other cheek.

Oh to see again, differently.

After a few hours, the hike was getting tougher and our legs, more tired. My friend Amanda and I had just spent our entire Saturday morning making the trek from our town to what the tourists call the "Muela del Diablo"....or "Devil's tooth". Yet, as we exited what seems to be more of the "city" and ascended the nearby mountain, I remember making the comment multiple times, "Wow. When I used to think of Bolivia, this is what I would think of." With mountains of rocks and dirt surrounding us, the call of the sheep, goats, and cows led us to the top of the sharp-edged rocks jutting out of the countryside. Of course, the view from the Muela almost seemed to place the huge city of La Paz in our little hands, almost nothing more than our possession of some cinnamon toast crunch in our morning cereal bowl. Glorious.

I needed this. My soul needed the wild. My body needed a release of endorphins. Yet, above all these things, I needed a change of perspective.

After two weeks of school and a few more weeks in La Paz, it was too easy to find myself spending my free time dwelling on my circumstances. It is tough to leave the community I had in the states which knew me fairly well. As an introvert, every time I am presented with a new group to hang out with, I am faced with the hard work ahead of building those relationships and that ministry. And of course, sometimes lesson plans do not seem very "fun" in the category of serving my kids and my school.

Faithfully, God found ways of getting my attention through a view on top of a mountain and even through a night of hot chocolate and sleeping out under the stars on the patio. When things are quiet and I am still before God, I realize that only He can cast out my fear of what my future days here will bring. He not only casts it out, but He gently replaces it with His perfect love. This perfect love fills my mornings with purpose. This perfect love fills my days with stamina. This perfect love fills my evenings with grace. Because His perfect love casts out all fear. With fear out of the way, I feel as if seeing clearly just gets a bit easier.

Real? Really?

When people discuss the process of leaving the university and entering the "real world", I believe they are referring to the process of getting a steady job, a steady paycheck, and living on your own. I guess I decided this was too simple of a step, and proceeded to leave a few of those out while adding the "moving across the world" and "figuring everything out all over again, from grocery shopping to laundry" to make the change seem more exciting and worthy.

I have entered the "real world". I believe the art to smoothly entering this secret passageway which everyone talks about is yet to truly be discovered. Rather, I enjoy being thrown right in. For example, after getting a horrible stomach bug the first day of school, the "real world" told me I had to leave school and walk ten minutes across town to track down some antibiotics while feeling like I could pass out, all while wishing my mom had been present to do this for me. More so, the "real world" reminded me that showing up late to work would be unacceptable, and avoiding this would require a 5:15am wake up call...get this...every. single. day. This is when I kindly want to tell the "real world" to shut up. :)

Really, I had a great first week of school. I officially feel like being a teacher with real responsibilities. Yet, despite the drudgery of some of those responsibilities, it is nothing but rewarding to watch the children walk in your room with a smile and an attempt to describe how they are feeling in a language possibly so foreign to them.

Thus, rewards come in different forms. One form happens to be reading the tests many of the intermediate level English students must take. One boy in older elementary had just gotten word that his class had left for recess just as he had begun his writing segment for his test. With frustration as well as amusement, he rapidly finished a story about some hikers seeking out an "x" in the woods...."And when they found the "x", it said "secret passage." Then, they realized it was a hospital. Only, let me tell you, these weren't doctors. These were orgs! (I assumed he had meant to spell "ogres.") I still wonder what type of tv he has been watching. Anyway...

So, dear "real world", I welcome the invitation to be a part today. Only, please speak quietly and let me move slowly. In fact, feel free to send me any rewards you have to offer.

Oh, that You would reign

By adding up the events of previous blogs, I believe it will be easy to convey the overwhelming sense of reality which has been knocking on my door each morning as I wake up and face new life here.

I love it here, I really do. I love climbing up a hill, as I did on Saturday, and being able to see the southern part of La Paz as a whole. With a view such as this, I believe I can almost feel the very heartbeat of God as it falls over the city.

Yet, I must admit, as I stood in church this morning singing the words, "Take your place here, God," I was hit with the emotion of all that has happened over the past few weeks. Grieving over the loss of the physical presence of my Grandmother and not being able to stand alongside my family through it all, realizing I am a foreigner yet again and will be faced with that for months to come, knowing I have responsibilities at a job in which I have been called to disciple little children with the goal of excellence as the Lord would have me to....it is a lot to process.

So, when I cry out to God and ask Him to take His place, I am in essence asking Him to sit back on the very throne which I, in my selfishness, have stolen from Him through the sin in my life. What I was reminded of is this: God has His place here in La Paz. He was, is, and will always be. He has been working here and will continue to do so, in order that hearts may know Him and He may be glorified. What is even more humbling is the fact that He invites me into this work. I may have come here with a made up agenda to conquer the world, but He simply invites me to come along and be about my Father's work here.

In all of this, I believe His purposes are not limited. He can work through me while simultaneously working in me, becoming King and Master of the things in my life that I have not let Him reign over. I cannot think of a better thing today than to be a part of the kingdom of the King of kings and Lord of lords. "Father, have your way in me. Be King over my life. Reign in my heart, and reign in Bolivia. You deserve all glory, honor, and praise. Amen."

May I have this dance?

Though I just arrived in Bolivia, being away from home is becoming very real. I received news that my sweet Grandmother went home to be with her Lord and Savior yesterday afternoon. The odd mixture of emotions which followed my taking it all in included a bit of tears, then laughter, then jealousy, then peace.

As a child, my Grandma Margie wrote me a letter one day which said she would pray Jeremiah 29:11 over my life each day "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord...." As I grew in my relationship with Christ, this verse began to fill our conversations, our written correspondence, and our prayers for each other. Yet, I know this verse was just a drop of the flood of wisdom she has poured into my life through so many years.

A grandmother, mother, wife, sister, friend, musician, counselor, worshiper, peacemaker, prayer warrior...the list could go on. She lived out all these things as a precious follower of Jesus Christ. I cherish the moments I was able to sit with her and be challenged by who she had become.

Last Thanksgiving she spent time with our family in Jacksonville. As I was walking through a season of   uncertainty and struggle myself, she joyously shared with me a few books by Ken Gire. As she was reading along, I remember how the metaphor of the "the dance" resonated with her. As a musician, she recognized the importance of melody, harmony, and rhythm. The picture which Gire paints is the moment our Maker invites us to dance. With fear and trepidation, we might decline. Or we might say "Yes." My grandmother said "Yes," and decided to follow Him with her whole heart.

As she danced with the Lord throughout her life journey, she enjoyed the pleasant moments when the orchestra united and played with joy. With a wonderful husband, children, and grandchildren, she witnessed sweet births, sweet discipleship, and sweet ministry across the world. In the moments of uncertainty, when the rhythm did not sound as natural... when her first son lived a life of many limitations, when she and Joe met struggles in their ministry, or when the love of her life left to be with the Lord before her, she faithfully looked to the eyes of Christ. He said, "Trust me during this new song, when the cadence brings change, and let me lead."

Yesterday afternoon, I believe the song changed once more. This time, she danced with Jesus into the throne room and the orchestra was in more unity than ever. The melody was strong with multiple harmonies to complement. Her step was lighter, her breathing full, and her trust in her Bridegroom...perfect. And so...she dances today, loving every bit of the music of eternity. She sings and dances to her heaven song. And this is only the beginning...

Grandma, I live today to share the love of Jesus Christ with one more person...that more and more will join us in heaven together when the Bride of Christ is invited home. I love you!

At peace in La Paz

Dearest family and friends,

I would like to officially announce that my life in La Paz has begun. Maybe the initiation was paying the taxi driver double the fare and graciously figuring it out after he stared at me in shock. Maybe it has been eating a chunk of llama for lunch...(one of the safer forms of acclimating to Bolivian food of which i'm still not sure tasted much different than bison). Or maybe it has been enjoying a delightful evening eating with my roommate Alison and her wonderful Bolivian friends.

The newness of everything...from figuring out how to shop for the most simple items to learning my way around they city...has been overwhelming but pleasantly surreal as I realize this is becoming my life for the time being. I am so thankful for at least a small grasp on the language as I know that could easily make this process much more difficult. A few staff from Highlands International School who were able to be back early have been tremendously helpful through tours and being willing to answer my thousands of questions about Bolivian life.

God has been so faithful. As we drove in from the northern part of the city and were able to see a night time view of La Paz, I was in awe to see the lights as a "Bowl of Jewels" which do nothing less for me than claim God's love over the city. Thank you for your prayers (which got myself and my luggage here despite the odds of luggage embargoes) and for your enthusiasm for ministry here (as it fills me with joy to write about it.) Tomorrow I will finally see the school, where I know I will be spending a large amount of my time. When things settle down a bit, I plan to provide more anecdotes of moments here. I can't wait to paint the story for you in these coming days....

Blessings.

     First of all, I would like to give a shout out to my sister Sarah and brother-in-law Paul who have raised two wonderful little boys so well. After a week of babysitting, we have been tickled by the fact that it requires three people to hold down wiggly Sterling in order to dress him for the day while the fourth family member sprints around the house to chase down Wyatt. The challenge of juggling diaper changing, nap times, and medicines has been one worth rising to. Of course, our frequent hunt for puppies in the neighborhood has dried up plenty of tears during tired moments. But overall, I'm thankful for these two nephews, and equally thankful for the parents I can send them home to. :)

     Well, the countdown is far more a reality today as there are only six days left on the calendar between my life in High Point and my new adventure in La Paz. I have been so blessed by moments of saying goodbye to friends as well as hearing the encouraging prayers from my church as they send me out. I'm thankful for the past six months of life here...months full of growth, clarity, and building stronger relationships.

     I realize I must leave a lot of this behind for a while. I know there will be new blessings ahead, (and ones to look forward to when I am able to visit the states.) Yet, in stepping back to look at the big picture, as I transition to what is "new", I am reminded that there is One who does go with me. He goes before me and behind me...as well as beside me. I will share with you the prayer I read this morning....

     "Therefore, I pray, whatever of Thyself Thou has been pleased to disclose, help me to search out as treasure more precious than rubies or the merchandise of fine gold; for with Thee shall I live when the stars of the twilight are no more and the heavens have vanished away and only Thou remains. Amen."

   It's hard to leave the presence of people who know what life is like here...those who I have been on college campus with, those who I have spent time in prayer meetings with, those who have walked with me through so many seasons of growth and change. Likewise, I know there will be new seasons in a new place which will be hard to relay back home. Yet, this is where my hope lies. The God of the universe, who understands me, knows me, and calls me by name, goes with me. So, it is Him who I must learn to know. He and I are in this together.

    "Papa, give me a heart to love you and to discover you. Teach me the rhythm of this song. But may I learn more of its Composer."

Party at the PFO

Two days ago I returned home from two mentally strenuous weeks in Southaven, MS where I sat through long days of Pre-Field Orientation for the mission field. At first, I thought I knew what I was getting into. How tough could listening to seminars concerning life as a missionary and a teacher be?
Of course, when I realized each hour of listening would require intense processing as well as beg me to open up my heart to see the prejudices, fears, and grief I have towards leaving that which I "know", the two weeks proved harder than I thought. Yet, without a doubt, I was extremely blessed to spend time with over a hundred missionaries who are all in transition alongside me, also meeting four of the girls specifically headed with me to the city of La Paz. We walked through the challenges of culture stress, the art of working with the "Third Culture Kid" (those children living in countries other than their parents' passport country), and analyzed our personalities in order to recognize possible blessings, challenges, and conflict with future colleagues.
Thankfully, the intensity was dashed with a bit of seasoning through a wonderful Fourth of July firework display (Thanks, Southaven, for being one of the most patriotic towns I know!), a few hot dogs at a Memphis Redbirds game, a number of quick incognito Sonic slushy runs between sessions, and stress relieving racquetball tourneys at the local gym.
I don't know if I'm ready for what these next few days will bring...as we live in a world where we try to avoid life changes and goodbyes due to the convenience of Facebook and Skype. I'm fighting hard against this. Saying goodbye is good for us. Affirming those who have meant so much to us is an opportunity. And if anything...the more phone calls, emails, and lunches I can be a part of...the more I can stall against packing. And for this, I am grateful.

Christmas comes early

My head is swarming with details of travelling, finances, and everything else I could easily find in the box labeled, "Details to note before moving from one country to another." There has been an intense battle between the over-analytical mind of my flesh versus the Spirit, and it is my desire to relinquish my days to the peace which only comes from the control of the Holy Spirit over it all.

I love my Papa as He so faithfully confirms on a regular basis that where I am going is where He has told me to go. This confirmation comes in different forms, and the story is as follows:

My friend and I were hiking to the top of Calloway Peak on Grandfather Mountain in Boone this past weekend. Though I enjoyed the climb, I much moreso enjoyed the splendor revealed at the top as I witnessed the Blue Ridge Parkway so strategically nestled into the fierce green view painted around us. Soon enough, we found ourselves engaged in a quick get-to-know you conversation with one of the three people on top. This particular man had graduated from App State a few years ago and was back to visit. I noted his surprise as I told him I was soon headed to Bolivia. He responded: "Really? I just got back from living in La Paz and teaching English there for five years." Maybe this was a random encounter with a former Bolivian on top of a mountain, but I could feel God's pleasure as he gave me yet another blessing....another confirmation which will help sustain my faith through these coming days.

This is yet another image of who God is, our Abba who is thrilled in giving good gifts to His children. I am reminded of this past Christmas when I gave homemade gifts to my family. After weeks of preparation, it was all I could do to contain my excitement as I knew what was under the tree, and I just couldn't wait for their responses. The time and thought I had put into giving the gifts had amplified the joy it was to give them. I believe this is how it is with God...as He waits with His prepared gifts...waiting for the perfect time to give me His gift....and of course, finding such pleasure when my face lights up.

I look back over this year...and I remember times when I was disappointed or had unmet expectations and criticized God for them. But it is during these days, when God makes himself so clear, that I am learning this: Sometimes God doesn't give us that which we want because He understands the very essence of what we need...and He waits with pleasure and joy for the perfect time to give it.  

Sojourneying

When I start to think about packing my whole life in two or three suitcases, shopping becomes a whole different scenario. First of all, I might walk into a cute boutique and see a very cute dress yet very clearly labeled with an eighty dollar price tag, and I begin to reconsider how stuffing it in the bottom of my suitcase could justify the impulsive purchase. Better yet, the thought of realizing that the main "nice" clothes I will need are really only for dressing as a "teacher" destroys any other justifications I may come up with.

Then I head to the thrift store, motivated by the fact that here, on half-off mondays, price is no longer a key worry. Yet, another factor steps in to cause even more problems: space. (You have to realize....during college there are not many greater thrills than finding the most random, neon-colored article of clothing which is only vital to completing my wardrobe...or even a fun, flowy skirt which drags on the floor, resembles a floridian curtain, and most definitely was made and sold in the 80's. Since I wasn't born in the 80's, there is no shame in purchasing the $1.61 priced skirt.) Unfortunately, every item must be considered and reconsidered as I determine whether or not it makes the "worth-it for only two suitcases" cut.

Though some beg to differ, the thought of cramming all I own into such small and limited space livens my spirit. Over the past few years, my life has become a continuous cycle of arrival and departure times, as I have not really been in the same place for more than a few months at a time. But I know God has wired me for this...to enjoy the relationships built and the growth made during each season, but to also appreciate the new and uncertainty and ministry which every new city, country, and continent brings. I love adventure, seeing the world, and truly knowing the new places through which I pass.

So, I am a sojourner...always passing through, but never yet there. But I'm learning why this is so true for me. It is during these months of waiting for the adventure ahead that God speaks and tells me, "Beloved, this world is not your home." The dreams, the desires, and the longings I have today are so limited as they will only be extremely surpassed when I meet my King. I'm always ready to go on another great adventure, but I get even more excited to think of what it will be like to one day arrive...at home... and then, the truest of adventures will only have just begun.  

So as a good friend once said, "risk everything for the true adventure."

Praise Befitting

I have recently started reading the book Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi by David Crowder. Of course, as you just spent a split second personally interpreting what you think the book is about, I too did the same. Praise? As a habit? Wouldn't I get bored of it like I would everything else. For example, I run around the same mile loop in my neighborhood at least every other day. I hate it. Yet I still do it. Also, we find ourselves in habits such as always eating three cookies instead of one...a habit which we remind ourselves at midnight is never good for us. We may have the habit of attending church or listening to the same music artist. But...praise? To the living God? Does it go in this category?

When considering a nun, her black and white outfit is called a "habit". Ahh, did your perspective change a bit? So now, a habit is clothing. It is something the nun wears daily. It is fashion yet antifashion. Crowder says, "The habit is what she wears. It is what covers her. It is what identifies her. Our condition is the same. For the follower of Jesus, our habit is the Christ. He is what covers us. He is what identifies us. We wear Him into every moment, and when we live with this awareness, we PRAISE CHRIST."

To clarify a statement made in a previous blog, my dad has been going through pain over the past ten years, but it has limited his ability to function on a daily basis specifically over the past six months. My family is weary and sometimes we feel like we don't really know what to pray any more, as doctors cannot seem to diagnose anything...other than knowing it has something to do with the nervous system.

Yet, I do know this. My God is faithful. It is befitting to praise Him. Something truly changes when we begin to give praise to our Maker, no matter what our circumstances are. Satan flees, He just can't stand it. He relishes in the idea of shutting us up. Yet, for those moments, I lose sight of my doubts and frustrations. I realize that my God has not forgotten about my family. And His promises to do what glorifies Him are what we can stand firm upon.

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore." Psalm 16:11

I need you.

Over the past few weeks, my life has been characterized by days of trying to teach my 21 month year old nephew how to say Bolivia, or at least Becca. (We met failure on both of these.) Also, I officially ended my undergrad career as a Spanish education student from Appalachian. I've spent some time with friends at the beach learning how to fight relentless waves in a kayak as well as clean flounder...an experience which faithfully reminded me of my many months of grilling during last summer and somewhat gave me a yearning to be back in Yellowstone...traversing the beauty of the West.

And of course, I cannot help but to mention the many days of paperwork which I continue to tell myself must be complete in order to have a job, live in a new country, and at least make me feel "productive" over the summer. (I am still not convinced that feeling productive is something we should desire for most of our summer experience...at least this was not true during grade school.)

Sadly, I've had too many days of pushing God to the side, sitting Him in a corner, and looking Him in the eyes sternly reminding Him that these are just tedious things which can be accomplished by efficiency and a simple application of my fifteen plus years of acquired knowledge of life skills. Then, when I'm weary and realizing how crazy a step such as moving wayy too south for the average North American (and at a much too high level of altitude)...I end up crawling back. Humbled. It is inevitable...and incredible...that the moment I finally turn back and say, "I need You, today", the sweetness of God's patience and forgiveness becomes such Truth in a world that seems to personally handwrite the word "failure" over all I seek to do in my own power.

So, Abba, I admit it before the world today. I need you. I really, really need you.

The song I surrendered to

"Sit down. I'm about to tell you something that is going to change your life."

These were the words a friend said to me during the first week of the Life Action Summit at our church. But first, let me back up a few months...

During my last semester on Appalachian's campus, I began to tell God that I wanted to fully surrender my plans to him. I did not understand at the time the true extent of my dreams and rights that would have to be laid down in order for this to come about in my life. Even so, I spent many nights in tears as God began breaking me of my own plans and decisions. I know now those tears were only the beginning expressions of the joy I would experience as I walked in freedom of finally saying "Yes, God, I will." 

Before I knew it, I was moving home to student teach. Honestly, leaving the mountains and the community I knew in Boone was not my first choice, but I began to watch and feel God change my heart. I never could foresee the precious conversations and moments I would take part in with my parents, especially in dealing with my Dad's health.

And of course, woven into the intricate details of this semester was this conversation that has changed the rythym of God's song for me just a bit.

I had just mentioned my Spanish Education degree when my friend said, "Sit down. I'm about to tell you something that is going to change your life." Having never heard of the Network for International Christian Schools before, I listened to an hour of Zach striving to convince me that God had planned this for me.

Laughing on the way home, I told God I would do it, just as I would stay open to the three other options I felt had opened up. After a morning of listening to my Dad tell me to stay open and pray, I went to school only to encounter another student teacher, Rachel, with a brochure in her hand. "Rebecca, I thought you might be interested in working overseas with this program so I brought you a brochure." Yes, this was the same program I had heard of the night before...and God had my full attention.

The rest of that week included the whirlwind of an application, a phone call with the recruiter whom Zach had speed dialed into his phone, and a job offer as the ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher for at least two years in Bolivia.

I leave in July to begin dancing with the Lord to a new song full of new desires and prayers which the Lord is nestling deep into my heart. And during these next few weeks and months, as I grow weary or distracted, my prayer is that I will be still and listen...to His harmony's song.