Monday, November 21, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
We're not in Kansas anymore
Well... I've been staying away... purposefully. I guess the seemingly sudden transition from our exotic global village honeymoon to "what were we thinking??" reality took me by surprise and it's taken some weeks now to process and stand on some steady, reality-rooted ground. It comes and goes... but at least it's in sight now! Isn't God good to bring us to the end of ourselves so He can show us Himself??
This happened when I was in Kenya. The strange bugs were "interested and amazing!", the awful pollution made me feel "so sad that all of these nationals have to breathe this :(", the food was a fun cultural experience and a neat bridge of trust to build with my new African friends, the mosquito nets were like real and exciting 3rd world living, the constant (and I mean constant) bouts of illness made me feel honored that God would esteem me worthy to experience what so many in the world face constantly, the cold showers reminded me of how on the edge I was living and I loved it! Fast forward a few months and it aaaalllllllll changed.
The bugs were freakishly large and "interesting" was at the bottom of the list as far as adjectives I thought of when being affronted by these little devils - surely God accidentally spoke these into existence... he must have coughed or sneezed in the middle of creating other bugs and these were the result. The pollution made me want to scream "Ever heard of a smog test???" during my morning prayer walks (yes, I know), the food.... oh the food... let's just say that God is faithful to answer prayers when you say, "Lord, if you don't keep this food down my throat I WILL throw it up all over their table and shame them to no end!". The mosquitos defied my nets and had a love affair with my feet, the cold showers made me go stinky and HEY that meant I was fitting in better!, and the illnesses that drove me to be alone for hours and days at a time were very difficult to see God in (but He was there!!). The sunshine, puppies and ice cream became gray skies, mangy Tijuana street dogs and Fear Factor food.
Life here has faded into reality also. The excitement of everyone being so communal is actually a problem... they need to assimilate to America, learn the language and get jobs. The different groups are each very set in their ways and mainly trust their own people, who do not know what it takes to make it in this country. The friendships by nature of their culture are all very easy to establish, but very shallow in depth. I can go on and on about the 47 mothers I've gained since being here and how none of them think my babies are ever dressed enough and might freeze to death if 2 more sweaters aren't heaped on them in 70 degree cloudy weather, how the kids decided knocking on the door is too much work and jumping our gate and opening the patio door to come in and play is much easier.
What has been constant through these scenarios are two things: Jesus and Jeff Jackson! Jeff is our Pastor and I met him when he trained myself along with 7 other missionaries getting ready to go into the mission field. He knows a lot about a lot, but cultural insight seems to be at the top of his gifts in my opinion. I was prepped going into Kenya and could senses my emotions shift so I could decipher things really well... but in this situation I was shocked at how sudden and sad it was! He brought us both back down to reality and reminded us that we aren't flung out here alone despite our feelings, our church body is still beside us, lifting us in prayer and loving on us, that all of our feelings are totally normal, that we are literally in the middle of the trenches completely submerged in a cross-cultural setting. I suppose the biggest comfort is knowing we aren't alone, that in the midst of the seemingly unattainable goals we are probably here so God can accomplish great things inside of us... not because of us or through us.
We truly are living in a global village, and all that separates us from the America you live in is a sidewalk. And that sidewalk makes all the difference in our world. More on that next time. Please pray for us :) I'm making dishes today and tomorrow to deliver to some of the families and begin more of this relationships via food thing.
This happened when I was in Kenya. The strange bugs were "interested and amazing!", the awful pollution made me feel "so sad that all of these nationals have to breathe this :(", the food was a fun cultural experience and a neat bridge of trust to build with my new African friends, the mosquito nets were like real and exciting 3rd world living, the constant (and I mean constant) bouts of illness made me feel honored that God would esteem me worthy to experience what so many in the world face constantly, the cold showers reminded me of how on the edge I was living and I loved it! Fast forward a few months and it aaaalllllllll changed.
The bugs were freakishly large and "interesting" was at the bottom of the list as far as adjectives I thought of when being affronted by these little devils - surely God accidentally spoke these into existence... he must have coughed or sneezed in the middle of creating other bugs and these were the result. The pollution made me want to scream "Ever heard of a smog test???" during my morning prayer walks (yes, I know), the food.... oh the food... let's just say that God is faithful to answer prayers when you say, "Lord, if you don't keep this food down my throat I WILL throw it up all over their table and shame them to no end!". The mosquitos defied my nets and had a love affair with my feet, the cold showers made me go stinky and HEY that meant I was fitting in better!, and the illnesses that drove me to be alone for hours and days at a time were very difficult to see God in (but He was there!!). The sunshine, puppies and ice cream became gray skies, mangy Tijuana street dogs and Fear Factor food.
Life here has faded into reality also. The excitement of everyone being so communal is actually a problem... they need to assimilate to America, learn the language and get jobs. The different groups are each very set in their ways and mainly trust their own people, who do not know what it takes to make it in this country. The friendships by nature of their culture are all very easy to establish, but very shallow in depth. I can go on and on about the 47 mothers I've gained since being here and how none of them think my babies are ever dressed enough and might freeze to death if 2 more sweaters aren't heaped on them in 70 degree cloudy weather, how the kids decided knocking on the door is too much work and jumping our gate and opening the patio door to come in and play is much easier.
What has been constant through these scenarios are two things: Jesus and Jeff Jackson! Jeff is our Pastor and I met him when he trained myself along with 7 other missionaries getting ready to go into the mission field. He knows a lot about a lot, but cultural insight seems to be at the top of his gifts in my opinion. I was prepped going into Kenya and could senses my emotions shift so I could decipher things really well... but in this situation I was shocked at how sudden and sad it was! He brought us both back down to reality and reminded us that we aren't flung out here alone despite our feelings, our church body is still beside us, lifting us in prayer and loving on us, that all of our feelings are totally normal, that we are literally in the middle of the trenches completely submerged in a cross-cultural setting. I suppose the biggest comfort is knowing we aren't alone, that in the midst of the seemingly unattainable goals we are probably here so God can accomplish great things inside of us... not because of us or through us.
We truly are living in a global village, and all that separates us from the America you live in is a sidewalk. And that sidewalk makes all the difference in our world. More on that next time. Please pray for us :) I'm making dishes today and tomorrow to deliver to some of the families and begin more of this relationships via food thing.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Where God says Follow, He also says Swallow
Well I haven't written in awhile... mostly because I'm in a quiet, sober place right now. More on that later... but to pave the way for more writing I thought a funny story would do me well. Well, funny a bit... gross a lot... and anger-inducing for my special someone. Intrigued?
FOOD. One of the most important extensions of friendship in cross-cultural ministry... if not the most important. If we are invited to someones home, or happen to be walking around and they lead us ever so lightly (ha!) by the hand into their apartment and begin sharing food with us... there is just no question about it. You eat the food, you eat it happily, and if they give you more... you eat that too. So far I've had some funny run-in's with the delicate balance of honoring them and trusting the by receiving this gift of friendship VERSUS keeping it down and not losing it all over the plate, thus shaming them for a lifetime! So far I have succeeded... but that almost came to an end yesterday.
It all started the first week we lived here. I delivered some fresh baked cookies to a family (I will leave details out, heaven forbid they ever read this!). As is customary in these cultures, I fully expected them to return my plate with another treat. Well weeks went by and finally they came back with some of their own cookies plus an entire pot of dinner for us. This particular dish we've had before and neither one of us desired to willfully partake inside the privacy of our own home so we just let it sit there while we ate our own yummy American food. The next day (yesterday) I was coming home from the gym and the wife/cook sees me hauling both my sleepy kids to my door and in true community fashion, she picks up a kid and starts trailing behind me to come into the house and help. NOW... if I thought she might just drop him at the door and consider her help over I wouldn't have panicked... but they NEVER stop at the door. How American would that be? They come in, pick up toys, close my open cabinets, put extra sweaters on my kids because apparently they are never warm enough.
So there I was, pretending not to find the right key to get into the house, sorting out how I could hide the dish without her knowing. My success in this moment determined the fate of our friendship with this family and if I would shame her beyond our American comprehension. So I rush in and take the lid off and dump the whole dish down the sink and stick the empty pot over the drain. She walks in behind me, after about 3 seconds sees the empty pot, smiles, I smile back... pat my tummy and say "Excellent!!" in her language. She lit up and was so happy that we ate all of her dish and thought it was amazing. She left and the second wave of panic set in. How on earth can I get this out of the sink? I knew it wouldn't clear the pipes... and I made one large mess... and the topper was that I had to work in the office an hour later. So I got around, my husband came home and I left him with two babies and a clogged sink full of food he had no desire to eat let alone sift through with nasty additions that have been sitting in the drain pipes.
Long story short, they had to snake the pipe (eeeek!!) and the water (if you can call it that) slushed out all over the tile and was quite the scene. The second I walked in two hours later my husband said, "TAG" and walked out. He needed some alone time.
Moral of the story? Use the trash next time... and do it the night before. What a mess.
FOOD. One of the most important extensions of friendship in cross-cultural ministry... if not the most important. If we are invited to someones home, or happen to be walking around and they lead us ever so lightly (ha!) by the hand into their apartment and begin sharing food with us... there is just no question about it. You eat the food, you eat it happily, and if they give you more... you eat that too. So far I've had some funny run-in's with the delicate balance of honoring them and trusting the by receiving this gift of friendship VERSUS keeping it down and not losing it all over the plate, thus shaming them for a lifetime! So far I have succeeded... but that almost came to an end yesterday.
It all started the first week we lived here. I delivered some fresh baked cookies to a family (I will leave details out, heaven forbid they ever read this!). As is customary in these cultures, I fully expected them to return my plate with another treat. Well weeks went by and finally they came back with some of their own cookies plus an entire pot of dinner for us. This particular dish we've had before and neither one of us desired to willfully partake inside the privacy of our own home so we just let it sit there while we ate our own yummy American food. The next day (yesterday) I was coming home from the gym and the wife/cook sees me hauling both my sleepy kids to my door and in true community fashion, she picks up a kid and starts trailing behind me to come into the house and help. NOW... if I thought she might just drop him at the door and consider her help over I wouldn't have panicked... but they NEVER stop at the door. How American would that be? They come in, pick up toys, close my open cabinets, put extra sweaters on my kids because apparently they are never warm enough.
So there I was, pretending not to find the right key to get into the house, sorting out how I could hide the dish without her knowing. My success in this moment determined the fate of our friendship with this family and if I would shame her beyond our American comprehension. So I rush in and take the lid off and dump the whole dish down the sink and stick the empty pot over the drain. She walks in behind me, after about 3 seconds sees the empty pot, smiles, I smile back... pat my tummy and say "Excellent!!" in her language. She lit up and was so happy that we ate all of her dish and thought it was amazing. She left and the second wave of panic set in. How on earth can I get this out of the sink? I knew it wouldn't clear the pipes... and I made one large mess... and the topper was that I had to work in the office an hour later. So I got around, my husband came home and I left him with two babies and a clogged sink full of food he had no desire to eat let alone sift through with nasty additions that have been sitting in the drain pipes.
Long story short, they had to snake the pipe (eeeek!!) and the water (if you can call it that) slushed out all over the tile and was quite the scene. The second I walked in two hours later my husband said, "TAG" and walked out. He needed some alone time.
Moral of the story? Use the trash next time... and do it the night before. What a mess.
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