Before you read this I apologize for the, perhaps, awkward sounding post... I was very tired and not really in the mood to philosophy. At the moment of writing this entry, I was sitting on a plane with a cup of water on my left and a cup of coffee on my right. I don't drink coffee very often but for some reason I was the mood. My phone had died and was hoping that my friend picking me up from the airport would be able to find me, (that is, if he even decided to come), because all he knew was that I was scheduled to come back at 11pm that night, and the last time I had spoken to him was a week prior. I prayed that he would either be there or at least have an outlet there for me to charge my phone so that I could call him.
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I was excited (am still am) to share my stories with him, my aqua fitness class, my roommates, friends, and whoever it comes up in conversation with. Heck maybe it can even start some conversations. At the moment I was still in "trip mode" where there was a possibility of getting culture shock as I walked back into my old life which wasn't that old.
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I had officially decided that I would remake a Facebook account. I had one but I deleted it for many different reasons (The primary reason comes from the lesson in Judges 6). However I figured that it was time to rebuild it, and I decided to try to build it God's way.
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I'm really excited to start up school again and to remember that if I can connect with children who don't even speak my language, then I can connect with anyone right? At least I can make an attempt. That's one of my goals for the upcoming year. Not to necessarily become best friends with everyone or change lives, but to simply lose myself in the lives if others.
P.S. - I think I found a new favorite drink combo: a cup of hot coffee and a cup of cold water, alternating sips of hot and cold. Not only does it prevent cavities and yellow teeth stains, but it provides two extremes that create a "shock"ing equilibrium on the body's physiological senses (kind of like going on a Short Term Mission?)
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Day 7 - Dominican Republic
On our last day serving in the DR, we went to a private pool with children from a Grace home whose mission is to foster those who have been rescued from sex slavery / parents who are involved with it. It was a blast. One of the first things I noticed was that they were a lot more outgoing with us compared to the other orphanage. However, they were less respectful. The other orphanage was inspiring because we saw the children truly love and care for each other; bringing water for the boys in wheelchairs and pushing them around. The children here though had a little more of a problem with this. I heard a boy yell at another because he was distracting his kite flying, and the girls would tease me and tell me lies. Some children were actually not allowed to hang out with us at the pool because they had refused to do their chores. None of this was super obnoxiously bad, basically what you would expect from children. This is just what I observed.
There was one girl who, I think, had a type of albinism, that is, had dirty blonde hair on her naturally dark skin. She looked just like Shakira. Her eyes were golden brown to match her hair, and all of the girls in our group were in awe of her eyelashes. She was four, and it was clear that she will turn into a gorgeous woman (by our societies standards).
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When you're playing with children in an orphanage or Grace home you forget about why they're there, and only think about having fun. You forget about their history, their disease, their pain. When you look back on it and think about the adorable, lovable children that you were playing UNO with, it kills you when you remember that just two years ago they were in the hospital from HIV, neglected because of a lack of money, a lack of paternal care, or both. It kills you to hear about children who are rescued from brothels when they are four, only to be taken back by their parents 10 years later kicking and screaming because they know that their parents are just gonna sell them back into a prostitution ring. Yes that did happen at the Grace Home we went to, just weeks before we arrived. (Just remember: "Hate the sin; love the sinner".) We left in a good mood, having made some new connections and making lasting memories.
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Later that night we went to a Saturday night Church service. Wow. It was crazy. Very high energy with extremely loud music that was so loud that nobody could hear anybody, but it was ok because God could hear you and the service really emphasized audience interaction as was exemplified when the pastor asked me to come up stage during the loud music to scream, "GOD BLESS YOU!" over and over again to the beat of the music which really pumped me up because I just had to keep screaming, and screaming, and screaming but it was so loud I couldn't hear myself and I just kept screaming and dancing and jumping until the music stopped so that we could listen to a speech and learn more about Jesus.
It was a good message, talking about modesty with a Dominican culture point of view. I agreed with the message, it was just presented in a way that I had never heard before, and I learned that this topic is emphasized more in the DR more than in the US. If you truly care about the topic talk to me about it later, it was about the role that men and women play in God's eyes and in the church.
Overall it was fun, eye-opening, and allowed us to say goodbye to the translators that had been helping us the entire trip.
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When we got home, we debriefed, and then said our goodbyes to the half of the group that was leaving at 4am the next morning. Some of them I'll see again, some of them I may not see until heaven... But only the good Lord knows for sure.
It was a good message, talking about modesty with a Dominican culture point of view. I agreed with the message, it was just presented in a way that I had never heard before, and I learned that this topic is emphasized more in the DR more than in the US. If you truly care about the topic talk to me about it later, it was about the role that men and women play in God's eyes and in the church.
Overall it was fun, eye-opening, and allowed us to say goodbye to the translators that had been helping us the entire trip.
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When we got home, we debriefed, and then said our goodbyes to the half of the group that was leaving at 4am the next morning. Some of them I'll see again, some of them I may not see until heaven... But only the good Lord knows for sure.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Day 6 - Dominican Republic
Last year the Cru at my university had a men's retreat in the mountains. The retreat was full of trials and obstacles; challenges, both physical and intellectual. We had to do push-ups and sit-ups, run through the snowy and forested back country, climb rocks, and then memorize scripture and answer personal questions. After that we were handicapped, except not in the way golf uses the term, but in the dictionary definition, where all of a sudden where we were able bodied we were disabled in some way or another. Some were blind folded, some mouths were shut, some had arms tied together, some had nothing. I had three pinecones duct taped onto the palm of my right hand. After this we had to do continue for the second half of the challenges. But this time was harder, naturally. After struggling for awhile, we finally started to get used to our handicaps, and that's when we ultimate challenge came. There was a branch 5 ft in the air supported by two trees and we had to get everyone over the branch without knocking it over. The hard part was, several of the guys who we would consider the "leaders" were either blindfolded or couldn't speak. That forced those who were able to take charge. It was a fun lesson. But all of this was just for contextual description. What I really want to talk about is the challenge after that. The final challenge. We were freed from our handicaps, and had a personal time for reflection and prayer. Then we followed one staff member into a heavily wooded area. He led us to a long line of some sort of hurdle, gate-thing that I think are used in the game of polo. There were about 1ft tall and had Playboy magazines taped to them. We had to crawl underneath the hurdles in the snow and brush, which was already physically demanding, but then the Cru staff members started yelling at us temptations, such as "Come on take a quick peak.", "Wow, she is hot.". Then when we would accidentally glance, they would scream, "Yes! Keep looking, isn't she smokin'?". This continued for maybe 5-10min. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be.
On the sixth day in the Dominican Republic we visited a town named Boca Chica, a town known for its high tourist and prostitution rates. We went on a prayer walk, which I guess is just a walk where you're supposed to be observant and prayerful. During this walk the final trial of the men's retreat came back to haunt me. We walked down the beach and like spectators at a parade, people lined up to watch us. Except we weren't the show; they were. They kept on trying to grab our attention with temptations, "Hey come have a Pina Coloda.", "I have bracelet. Very cheap.", "You like? I have good price." That wasn't all though. Probably more prevalent than the businessmen were the spectators trying to get the attention of the ladies in our group. "Wow! You are so beautiful.", "Won't you give me a kiss?". I even had one guy approach me, and because I taking up the end of the line behind the American women show, say, "Hey man, you are 'da boss." I just nodded at him but shortly afterward I was screaming inside my head, "I'm not the boss, Jesus is 'da boss!"
I grew ever angrier and angrier at the men trying to grab the attention of the girls mainly because of the background information we had received about the city. About how it was not only a city with a high prostitution rate, but a high child slavery and child prostitution rate, with many of the girls that we would be spending time with the next day having been rescued from this area. It's sickening. A girl in our group said that she had heard that the majority of men who buy one of these girls for sex are of the U.S. Republican party. I haven't found any statistics that confirm this statement, but it is true that in 2003 a tanning salon in my peaceful home of Fort Collins, CO was shut down for trafficking children. So it is true that we in the U.S. can be just as morbid as every other human being.
It was interesting to see how different Boca Chica was from every other city we visited in the DR. You could see how Jesus was not very prevalent in this city's history, considering this is one of the few cities where people weren't dressed conservatively. It was in this city where I saw, for the first time, a Dominican man wear shorts. We saw a couple paintings of scenery, some of naked women, and some of cool designs being sold on our walk. But then, oddly, we also saw a couple pictures of Jesus.
Before the walk, a couple of us were playing "A Million Faces". This is a game where you move face; eyes, nose, and mouth around in a very fast and completely random manner while another person takes several snapshots of you from a camera, yielding a very goofy looking picture. We got a pretty good one of me and I decided that when I got back home I would make a Facebook and set that picture as my profile picture. Then just like a Quentin Tarantino film, how things can change from funny to dramatic in any given second, our funny game turned serious when a man came up to us ranting something in Spanish. I listened very carefully as my Spanish is not that great. He basically just asked us if we were Christians. I said that we were indeed Christians. He then started ranting on about the gospel message and about how there is so much sin in the world (specifically the dance clubs), and how God created the world, and how many people think Christians like himself are crazy. I was so busy translating I did a poor job of active listening, and so my only response after all of this was "Exactly". But then we had to go because we did, in fact, have to go.
Although my anger was sparked in Boca Chica, I understand that those who I was angry with were also the ones that I needed to love. The two can be used at the same time, but you have to be careful that your anger doesn't turn into hatred. I once heard someone say, "Hate the sin, love the sinner." But people tend to choose one or the other. I think that most Christian tourists choose the "love the sinner" portions and neglect the other. I think the Dominican ranter would agree, and that's why he was so passionate about the amount of sin in the world. He knows that it's prevalent but many Christian tourists minimalize it and push it aside.
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The rest of the day we spent at the Boca Chica beach resort, which was very weird after spending a week in poverty and experiencing so many emotions. I really didn't want to be there, I wanted to go break into brothels, shut them down, rescue the children, and smash the faces of those who stopped me. I wanted to live in poverty. I wanted to show the rich, white Americans how blind they are to not just the world around them, but to their own backyards! However, God didn't rest on the 7th day because he was tired, but because resting is actually a spiritual discipline, used as a form of worship. The really was very relaxing and nice. After all that playing with kids, it was a nice break. I tried to spend this time with God, praying, acknowledging his beautiful creation, and working out to prepare my body to defend whatever the devil throws my way.
On the sixth day in the Dominican Republic we visited a town named Boca Chica, a town known for its high tourist and prostitution rates. We went on a prayer walk, which I guess is just a walk where you're supposed to be observant and prayerful. During this walk the final trial of the men's retreat came back to haunt me. We walked down the beach and like spectators at a parade, people lined up to watch us. Except we weren't the show; they were. They kept on trying to grab our attention with temptations, "Hey come have a Pina Coloda.", "I have bracelet. Very cheap.", "You like? I have good price." That wasn't all though. Probably more prevalent than the businessmen were the spectators trying to get the attention of the ladies in our group. "Wow! You are so beautiful.", "Won't you give me a kiss?". I even had one guy approach me, and because I taking up the end of the line behind the American women show, say, "Hey man, you are 'da boss." I just nodded at him but shortly afterward I was screaming inside my head, "I'm not the boss, Jesus is 'da boss!"
I grew ever angrier and angrier at the men trying to grab the attention of the girls mainly because of the background information we had received about the city. About how it was not only a city with a high prostitution rate, but a high child slavery and child prostitution rate, with many of the girls that we would be spending time with the next day having been rescued from this area. It's sickening. A girl in our group said that she had heard that the majority of men who buy one of these girls for sex are of the U.S. Republican party. I haven't found any statistics that confirm this statement, but it is true that in 2003 a tanning salon in my peaceful home of Fort Collins, CO was shut down for trafficking children. So it is true that we in the U.S. can be just as morbid as every other human being.
It was interesting to see how different Boca Chica was from every other city we visited in the DR. You could see how Jesus was not very prevalent in this city's history, considering this is one of the few cities where people weren't dressed conservatively. It was in this city where I saw, for the first time, a Dominican man wear shorts. We saw a couple paintings of scenery, some of naked women, and some of cool designs being sold on our walk. But then, oddly, we also saw a couple pictures of Jesus.
Before the walk, a couple of us were playing "A Million Faces". This is a game where you move face; eyes, nose, and mouth around in a very fast and completely random manner while another person takes several snapshots of you from a camera, yielding a very goofy looking picture. We got a pretty good one of me and I decided that when I got back home I would make a Facebook and set that picture as my profile picture. Then just like a Quentin Tarantino film, how things can change from funny to dramatic in any given second, our funny game turned serious when a man came up to us ranting something in Spanish. I listened very carefully as my Spanish is not that great. He basically just asked us if we were Christians. I said that we were indeed Christians. He then started ranting on about the gospel message and about how there is so much sin in the world (specifically the dance clubs), and how God created the world, and how many people think Christians like himself are crazy. I was so busy translating I did a poor job of active listening, and so my only response after all of this was "Exactly". But then we had to go because we did, in fact, have to go.
Although my anger was sparked in Boca Chica, I understand that those who I was angry with were also the ones that I needed to love. The two can be used at the same time, but you have to be careful that your anger doesn't turn into hatred. I once heard someone say, "Hate the sin, love the sinner." But people tend to choose one or the other. I think that most Christian tourists choose the "love the sinner" portions and neglect the other. I think the Dominican ranter would agree, and that's why he was so passionate about the amount of sin in the world. He knows that it's prevalent but many Christian tourists minimalize it and push it aside.
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The rest of the day we spent at the Boca Chica beach resort, which was very weird after spending a week in poverty and experiencing so many emotions. I really didn't want to be there, I wanted to go break into brothels, shut them down, rescue the children, and smash the faces of those who stopped me. I wanted to live in poverty. I wanted to show the rich, white Americans how blind they are to not just the world around them, but to their own backyards! However, God didn't rest on the 7th day because he was tired, but because resting is actually a spiritual discipline, used as a form of worship. The really was very relaxing and nice. After all that playing with kids, it was a nice break. I tried to spend this time with God, praying, acknowledging his beautiful creation, and working out to prepare my body to defend whatever the devil throws my way.
Day 5- Dominican Republic
I clogged the toilet that morning. At first it was exciting because it meant that I was cured of my VPS, but then I realized that there wasn't a plunger in the bathroom, and that I would have to leave and find help from the leader eating breakfast with the 22 girls at the table, risking the chance that someone may walk into the bathroom in hopes of using the toilet only to find that the four days of constipation already beat her to it.
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We were in the bus a lot that day. Our first stop was the radio station. A Dominican Christian Radio Station with music very similar to that of WayFM, wanted to interview a few of us. I was chosen. It was my first time on the radio and it was fine until they started asking question sand then it got a little nerve wracking. I think what made it more nerve wracking was the fact that we had to be translated. You know when you start talking about something that excites you, you start to roll, and you can't stop rolling. It just comes naturally and everything sounds good coming out of your mouth despite your pronunciation and linguistic errors. However when there's a translator you have to stop every couple of phrases so they can translate, which stops your roll, and you forget what you were talking about.
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Actually, I need to be completely honest here. I just lied. The radio thing was actually the second stop on the bus... Our first stop was to a school that VisionTrust operates. This school is dead center in a poverty stricken slum. You know, the town with cinder block houses, sheet metal roofs, and children playing in the sewer which also happens to be the towns garbage landfill. On top of the school is a roof-like patio area that is the home of a church. The church is roof-like because you can see above the entire town, poverty the eye can see. It's patio-like because it has a ceiling, but it's open on the sides so that it feels like you're outside.
It's beautiful.
It's even more beautiful to see how God can take such a materially ugly place and make it look beautiful. Our trip leader said that because of the open sides when they play worship, the entire town can hear. That is beautiful too.
We talked to some recent grads of the school who are now attending the university! We exchanged information about our universities, and then we went to visit theirs. The one we went to today was much bigger than the one yesterday, and had many more similarities to those in the U.S. It was interesting exchanging stories and visiting their schools. Although a lot is different, a lot is the same. Naturally, our schools are much more populated / bigger. From what I've heard their professors have a lot more power than ours and tend to be late / cancel class because of dumb excuses, including protests for not being paid more money. Also, there tends to be a higher amount of sexual bribery. I wonder how much different it is there than it is here in the U.S. though...
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During out debrief Jenny brought up an organization called Latte Losers, it's the idea that we donate the money that we would spend on one latte a month, $5, and donate it to a Vision Trust outreach that will provide food for children. Earlier that day, a child came up to one of the girls to get money for food, but was told not to because it would make them dependent on food and make them come back tomorrow. Also there are problems with parents throwing their children on the street to make money because people are more willing to give children money than adults. I asked Jenny what the difference between this and the mission of Latte Losers is. If we are supposed to avoid the paternalism of giving children money because they will become dependent, what makes the donating of money through Latte Losers any different? Won't they still become dependent on the money of the rich American? I liked her answer. She said that the food would go to feed children that are already in a Vision Trust outreach that gives them poverty rehabilitation and develops them into strong men and women of Christ. Jenny said that this organization is new and that we are the first people to be asked to become leaders. She granted us the opportunity to become leaders on our campuses by holding one fundraiser a semester. Sounds pretty easy right? Plus, you get a free T-shirt. I think that I want to bring it up to my Cru leader, but I'll need to find a partner first...
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Oh, and how could I forget? We went shopping that day too. I bought coffee and vanilla for my roommates, (Vanilla is twice as big, twice as tasty, and half the price.) plantain chips for my friend picking me up from the airport, and 2 bags of plantain chips and 1 bag of yucca chips for myself.
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We were in the bus a lot that day. Our first stop was the radio station. A Dominican Christian Radio Station with music very similar to that of WayFM, wanted to interview a few of us. I was chosen. It was my first time on the radio and it was fine until they started asking question sand then it got a little nerve wracking. I think what made it more nerve wracking was the fact that we had to be translated. You know when you start talking about something that excites you, you start to roll, and you can't stop rolling. It just comes naturally and everything sounds good coming out of your mouth despite your pronunciation and linguistic errors. However when there's a translator you have to stop every couple of phrases so they can translate, which stops your roll, and you forget what you were talking about.
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Actually, I need to be completely honest here. I just lied. The radio thing was actually the second stop on the bus... Our first stop was to a school that VisionTrust operates. This school is dead center in a poverty stricken slum. You know, the town with cinder block houses, sheet metal roofs, and children playing in the sewer which also happens to be the towns garbage landfill. On top of the school is a roof-like patio area that is the home of a church. The church is roof-like because you can see above the entire town, poverty the eye can see. It's patio-like because it has a ceiling, but it's open on the sides so that it feels like you're outside.
It's beautiful.
It's even more beautiful to see how God can take such a materially ugly place and make it look beautiful. Our trip leader said that because of the open sides when they play worship, the entire town can hear. That is beautiful too.
We talked to some recent grads of the school who are now attending the university! We exchanged information about our universities, and then we went to visit theirs. The one we went to today was much bigger than the one yesterday, and had many more similarities to those in the U.S. It was interesting exchanging stories and visiting their schools. Although a lot is different, a lot is the same. Naturally, our schools are much more populated / bigger. From what I've heard their professors have a lot more power than ours and tend to be late / cancel class because of dumb excuses, including protests for not being paid more money. Also, there tends to be a higher amount of sexual bribery. I wonder how much different it is there than it is here in the U.S. though...
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During out debrief Jenny brought up an organization called Latte Losers, it's the idea that we donate the money that we would spend on one latte a month, $5, and donate it to a Vision Trust outreach that will provide food for children. Earlier that day, a child came up to one of the girls to get money for food, but was told not to because it would make them dependent on food and make them come back tomorrow. Also there are problems with parents throwing their children on the street to make money because people are more willing to give children money than adults. I asked Jenny what the difference between this and the mission of Latte Losers is. If we are supposed to avoid the paternalism of giving children money because they will become dependent, what makes the donating of money through Latte Losers any different? Won't they still become dependent on the money of the rich American? I liked her answer. She said that the food would go to feed children that are already in a Vision Trust outreach that gives them poverty rehabilitation and develops them into strong men and women of Christ. Jenny said that this organization is new and that we are the first people to be asked to become leaders. She granted us the opportunity to become leaders on our campuses by holding one fundraiser a semester. Sounds pretty easy right? Plus, you get a free T-shirt. I think that I want to bring it up to my Cru leader, but I'll need to find a partner first...
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Oh, and how could I forget? We went shopping that day too. I bought coffee and vanilla for my roommates, (Vanilla is twice as big, twice as tasty, and half the price.) plantain chips for my friend picking me up from the airport, and 2 bags of plantain chips and 1 bag of yucca chips for myself.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Day 4- Dominican Republic
The previous night after my previous entry my roommate Ben split his head open on the ceiling fan as he was crawling into bed on the top bunk. There was blood everywhere. Another roommate who's here for a medical internship ran to get the owner of the house, who happens to be a doctor. I gave Ben my bandanna and Adam, our leader, was applying pressure. I won't get into details, but long story short the house owners and the medical interns gave Ben drugs and stitched his head together on the kitchen table. It was pretty cool to watch.-----------------------------------------------
After a short night's sleep, we ate breakfast and went off to the orphanage. We, the men, went to the older boys section of the orphanage and hung out with them. The director of their section cooperated with our intentions and made it easy for us to dialogue with them. Ben gave his testimony and I think they enjoyed it because 1. they connected with it, and 2. it was an insight into a completely different world. Ben was really good at trying to get the boys to speak, as opposed to letting Miguel Angel preaching.
Through this we heard how one boy was living with his family but they couldn't support him and when it got to the point that he was dying from malnutrition and disease, by God's love and grace he was saved from physical death and was given the option to go back with his parents or to go to the orphanage. He chose the orphanage because he felt that he'd be better taken care of there. The orphanage then fed him, gave him an education, community, and faith. The book Blue Like Jazz talks about how Don Miller loved his hippie friends because they were legitimately interested in his life as if every story he told was from a world renowned, famous author. Although, many of these hippies didn't follow Christ, I can connect because when I was listening to the stories of these boys I was legitimately interested, as if they were from a book written by a famous, world renowned author, God Himself.
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We were leaving the orphanage and I finally started to understand. Allow me to explain. A girl on our trip was talking about a theory called Vacation Poop Syndrome. The theory is that when you travel to another place on vacation, or in this case a mission trip, we tend to feel out of our comfort zone and when that happens we become temporarily constipated.
I had been in the DR for four days and I had yet to poop.
This was because I was uncomfortable. I hadn't had this problem since I went camping with the Boy Scouts for the first time. I think it is because this was my first time at an orphanage, my first time intentionally trying to play with kids, and my first time interacting with children from another culture. I went into this trip expecting to be able to use my gift of Spanish to make a huge difference. You know, bring kids to Christ, physically save someone's life, counsel broken hearts, etc. What I learned however, is that especially with kids, it's not so much about our words, but rather our actions. There’s the scene in “Good Will Hunting” when Robin Williams looks at Matt Damon and repeats, “It’s not your fault.” At first it means nothing to Damon, but he keeps saying it, stepping closer and changing his intonation, his rhythm. The words are starting to get to Damon as evidenced by his lack of eye contact, and his attempt to push him away, but it’s not the words that he’s pushing away; it’s love. It's the heart behind the words as a vessel and the intonation like fuel that propels Robin Williams closer to Damon until Damon finally gives in, lets his repressed tears flow and leaves himself open for a hug. Love always wins. You see, I always try to be a clever, funny guy and a philosophical, emotional counselor. But I've neglected how to love in ways other than words; to hug and to play. To connect with out human language but rather our natural language that God created us with. Right before we left the orphanage, I played a fun little game with a couple of kids and with Ben. The game had no rules, and made no sense. I honestly had no idea what I was doing I was just going with the flow, following this kid into his world that makes sense to him but not me. That was when it was finally coming clear to me how to love without words. The game was cut short when we had to get on the bus and leave the orphanage for good. One image that will always be ingrained in my head is the image of the little boy who hung to Ben the entirety of our three days there. We think he really saw Ben as a father figure. As we were leaving he was just staring at Ben, oblivious to everything around him probably wondering where Ben was going. Ben was staring right back at him, walking backwards towards the bus. The moment seemed straight out of a movie and is replayed in slow motion every time I think about it.
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We then traveled for a bit in the bus and I think this day, not just for me, but for all of us, brought our team closer together. We were crazy. We were laughing, telling crazy jokes, rejecting flirty pineapple salesmen walking down the streets trying to get kisses from the pretty American women from outside the bus window... you know that kind of stuff.
Then we arrived at a University that Vision Trust works with to get people out of poverty. We met with students involved in their University's Cru ministry (except in the DR its called VIDA) and we had a typical meeting with worship and a message. Unfortunately, the main guitar player was missing so they asked if anyone else could play the guitar. I timidly raised my hand, considering I do play the guitar but if anyone else could play I would've much rather of had them play because I've only been playing for a couple years and have never played in public before. Turns out only and one other lady raised our hands so we were the worship leaders for the night. She played two songs that I had never heard of before, and I played the one song that I knew all of the words too; How He Loves. It was fun because it's always been a secret desire of mine to lead worship. Again, it was fun, but it was hard. I never really thought that much about it before, but there are about 10,000,000 different versions of that song, and my version was different than everybody else version so at times people would get lost. Also the guitar had nylon strings that were really meant for finger picking and my chord and hammer-on style sounded funny on it. Regardless, I can check off one of my secret desires, and I think God taught me a lot during it. I learned that I'm am indeed not a rockstar by any means even though I like to think it sometimes. Similarly, there's a sign holder on a busy street corner in my town who is crazy good. He jumps and dances and dresses as if he's a famous rapper at a concert, and he'll flip the sign crazy fast, catch it with ease, and then look at individual drivers straight in the eye and wink at them. To prove my point even more, he is so good that several businesses have given him signs to dance with. In fact, every time I hit that red light, and I'm sure other drivers can attest to this, I never pay attention to when the light turns green because I am mesmerized by his skills. However, I am so amused by his skills that I have no idea what his signs are advertising. Now this is where the lesson comes into play (Thank Jimmy Pena for this one), That's how I feel many of us worship, and how I was when I was leading my one song: I was showing off my skills, but nobody could notice what my sign was for. We get so caught up in what we look like or sound like when we worship, either in the band or in the audience, that we forget who we're worshiping... who we're advertising. If some stranger were to come into your church's worship time, would they see a brilliant advertisement for Christ, or would they become mesmerized by a group of people acting strange and dancing funny? However, there'd probably be judgement regardless, and that's another thing I learned during my claim to fame: when worshiping we need to take down our barriers. If there's a giant wall in between you and God, your worship is minimalized. When we take down our barriers God can see all of it, and that's true worship.
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We returned to the home and had our Debrief and this time I found it very easy to participate. We talked a lot about topics from the book When Helping Hurts, paternalism, and the idea of relief, rehabilitaion, and development in alleviating poverty. Going back to the story of the boy who shared his story of being malnourished and having to choose between his family or the orphanage (or "Grace Home" since he's not really an orphan.), I think the orphanage is his relief. They tools they provide such as the church and the school at first are is the rehabilitation step, and eventually turns into the development step for them. I think us coming to visit them is just another step on the development journey. You see I see development like climbing Mt. Everest. If every step up the mountain was the same, looked exactly the same, felt exactly the same, and weather and wind were exactly the same, I doubt very many people would actually spend all those days attempting to climb this massive undertaking. However, in reality every step is different, some are
easy steps, some are through deep snow, and some require you to literally climb with your hands. The weather and the winds change constantly, and when you finally get to the top you look back on all of the different adventures it took to get there. Us being in the Dominican Republic was like one of those different steps in there development process. I don't think it was a difficult step for them, but it was something different, something to keep them excited as they continue on their journey.
Anyway, from there we started talking about how American culture is all about checking things off of our to-do lists and how can are able to connect with people very easily, but we can disconnect just as easily. We then compared it to many Latin cultures, including the Dominican culture, where they are less task oriented and more people oriented, focusing on relationships. We talked about how we can take that knowledge compare it it to the way we respond to crisises, the way we evangelize, our friends, and our work. (And we wonder why we have the highest divorce rate). We only provide relief, hardly any development in crisis situations, we preach the gospel to strangers and never talk to them again; no discipleship, we make friends in school, on mission trips, at work, and then we leave and we'll never talk to them again. There'll be people that we know from high school that we see around town but we pretend like we don't know them, because although we do know them, we haven't talked to them in so long it's almost as if we don't know them. It's interesting because if you think about we in the United States are extremists. We always talk bad about extremist religious groups or extremist politicians but compare that to our social culture. For simplicity sake extremist religious groups and politicains are either very conservative or very liberal. Some countries are either more task-oriented than people-oriented, and some are in the middle. The United States is extremely far on the side of task-oriented which I would consider to be an extremist party.... Just a thought.
"Lord I pray that as we return to our normal lives that they aren't normal, and that we may find an intercultural balance for creating/maintaining relationships. Let us also love with actions, not words, so that they can feel your love as opposed to hearing it. Music, hugs, exercise, games; God, you've tagged me, and now I'm it. Amen"
I had been in the DR for four days and I had yet to poop.
This was because I was uncomfortable. I hadn't had this problem since I went camping with the Boy Scouts for the first time. I think it is because this was my first time at an orphanage, my first time intentionally trying to play with kids, and my first time interacting with children from another culture. I went into this trip expecting to be able to use my gift of Spanish to make a huge difference. You know, bring kids to Christ, physically save someone's life, counsel broken hearts, etc. What I learned however, is that especially with kids, it's not so much about our words, but rather our actions. There’s the scene in “Good Will Hunting” when Robin Williams looks at Matt Damon and repeats, “It’s not your fault.” At first it means nothing to Damon, but he keeps saying it, stepping closer and changing his intonation, his rhythm. The words are starting to get to Damon as evidenced by his lack of eye contact, and his attempt to push him away, but it’s not the words that he’s pushing away; it’s love. It's the heart behind the words as a vessel and the intonation like fuel that propels Robin Williams closer to Damon until Damon finally gives in, lets his repressed tears flow and leaves himself open for a hug. Love always wins. You see, I always try to be a clever, funny guy and a philosophical, emotional counselor. But I've neglected how to love in ways other than words; to hug and to play. To connect with out human language but rather our natural language that God created us with. Right before we left the orphanage, I played a fun little game with a couple of kids and with Ben. The game had no rules, and made no sense. I honestly had no idea what I was doing I was just going with the flow, following this kid into his world that makes sense to him but not me. That was when it was finally coming clear to me how to love without words. The game was cut short when we had to get on the bus and leave the orphanage for good. One image that will always be ingrained in my head is the image of the little boy who hung to Ben the entirety of our three days there. We think he really saw Ben as a father figure. As we were leaving he was just staring at Ben, oblivious to everything around him probably wondering where Ben was going. Ben was staring right back at him, walking backwards towards the bus. The moment seemed straight out of a movie and is replayed in slow motion every time I think about it.
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We then traveled for a bit in the bus and I think this day, not just for me, but for all of us, brought our team closer together. We were crazy. We were laughing, telling crazy jokes, rejecting flirty pineapple salesmen walking down the streets trying to get kisses from the pretty American women from outside the bus window... you know that kind of stuff.
Then we arrived at a University that Vision Trust works with to get people out of poverty. We met with students involved in their University's Cru ministry (except in the DR its called VIDA) and we had a typical meeting with worship and a message. Unfortunately, the main guitar player was missing so they asked if anyone else could play the guitar. I timidly raised my hand, considering I do play the guitar but if anyone else could play I would've much rather of had them play because I've only been playing for a couple years and have never played in public before. Turns out only and one other lady raised our hands so we were the worship leaders for the night. She played two songs that I had never heard of before, and I played the one song that I knew all of the words too; How He Loves. It was fun because it's always been a secret desire of mine to lead worship. Again, it was fun, but it was hard. I never really thought that much about it before, but there are about 10,000,000 different versions of that song, and my version was different than everybody else version so at times people would get lost. Also the guitar had nylon strings that were really meant for finger picking and my chord and hammer-on style sounded funny on it. Regardless, I can check off one of my secret desires, and I think God taught me a lot during it. I learned that I'm am indeed not a rockstar by any means even though I like to think it sometimes. Similarly, there's a sign holder on a busy street corner in my town who is crazy good. He jumps and dances and dresses as if he's a famous rapper at a concert, and he'll flip the sign crazy fast, catch it with ease, and then look at individual drivers straight in the eye and wink at them. To prove my point even more, he is so good that several businesses have given him signs to dance with. In fact, every time I hit that red light, and I'm sure other drivers can attest to this, I never pay attention to when the light turns green because I am mesmerized by his skills. However, I am so amused by his skills that I have no idea what his signs are advertising. Now this is where the lesson comes into play (Thank Jimmy Pena for this one), That's how I feel many of us worship, and how I was when I was leading my one song: I was showing off my skills, but nobody could notice what my sign was for. We get so caught up in what we look like or sound like when we worship, either in the band or in the audience, that we forget who we're worshiping... who we're advertising. If some stranger were to come into your church's worship time, would they see a brilliant advertisement for Christ, or would they become mesmerized by a group of people acting strange and dancing funny? However, there'd probably be judgement regardless, and that's another thing I learned during my claim to fame: when worshiping we need to take down our barriers. If there's a giant wall in between you and God, your worship is minimalized. When we take down our barriers God can see all of it, and that's true worship.
---------------------------------------
We returned to the home and had our Debrief and this time I found it very easy to participate. We talked a lot about topics from the book When Helping Hurts, paternalism, and the idea of relief, rehabilitaion, and development in alleviating poverty. Going back to the story of the boy who shared his story of being malnourished and having to choose between his family or the orphanage (or "Grace Home" since he's not really an orphan.), I think the orphanage is his relief. They tools they provide such as the church and the school at first are is the rehabilitation step, and eventually turns into the development step for them. I think us coming to visit them is just another step on the development journey. You see I see development like climbing Mt. Everest. If every step up the mountain was the same, looked exactly the same, felt exactly the same, and weather and wind were exactly the same, I doubt very many people would actually spend all those days attempting to climb this massive undertaking. However, in reality every step is different, some are
easy steps, some are through deep snow, and some require you to literally climb with your hands. The weather and the winds change constantly, and when you finally get to the top you look back on all of the different adventures it took to get there. Us being in the Dominican Republic was like one of those different steps in there development process. I don't think it was a difficult step for them, but it was something different, something to keep them excited as they continue on their journey.
Anyway, from there we started talking about how American culture is all about checking things off of our to-do lists and how can are able to connect with people very easily, but we can disconnect just as easily. We then compared it to many Latin cultures, including the Dominican culture, where they are less task oriented and more people oriented, focusing on relationships. We talked about how we can take that knowledge compare it it to the way we respond to crisises, the way we evangelize, our friends, and our work. (And we wonder why we have the highest divorce rate). We only provide relief, hardly any development in crisis situations, we preach the gospel to strangers and never talk to them again; no discipleship, we make friends in school, on mission trips, at work, and then we leave and we'll never talk to them again. There'll be people that we know from high school that we see around town but we pretend like we don't know them, because although we do know them, we haven't talked to them in so long it's almost as if we don't know them. It's interesting because if you think about we in the United States are extremists. We always talk bad about extremist religious groups or extremist politicians but compare that to our social culture. For simplicity sake extremist religious groups and politicains are either very conservative or very liberal. Some countries are either more task-oriented than people-oriented, and some are in the middle. The United States is extremely far on the side of task-oriented which I would consider to be an extremist party.... Just a thought.
"Lord I pray that as we return to our normal lives that they aren't normal, and that we may find an intercultural balance for creating/maintaining relationships. Let us also love with actions, not words, so that they can feel your love as opposed to hearing it. Music, hugs, exercise, games; God, you've tagged me, and now I'm it. Amen"
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Day 3 - Dominican Republic
The next night I got a lot more sleep. The obnoxiously squeky beds didn't bother me as much, and I had a really awesome dream. I don't remember what it was about but I know I was really getting into it, and when the alarm went off I was rudely awakened and surprised to remember that I was still in the Dominican Republic.
Breakfast was the same, and was still good. Which by the way, the Dominicans don't refrigerate their eggs! It's strange, but they always turn out fine... I wonder why we in the U.S. refrigerate our eggs? Do they go bad fast? If so, maybe it's because we buy food in bulk so that it lasts us a long time, as opposed to shopping every couple days... Anyway, we had a morning devotional and went off to the orphanage again. This time we brought a lot of balls: footballs, futbols, frisbees, etc. We also led a VBS lesson. Our small group lesson was for the 13+ yr youth, which ended up being a bunch of 15 year old boys and 2 girls. We started playing a game called "Signs" which I'm sure you only know too well if you are involved with a Cru ministry. It's pretty complicated, but they eventually got the jist of it. After 30min or so we switched to the lesson which was based off the story in Luke 17:11 about Jesus and the 10 lepers.
Breakfast was the same, and was still good. Which by the way, the Dominicans don't refrigerate their eggs! It's strange, but they always turn out fine... I wonder why we in the U.S. refrigerate our eggs? Do they go bad fast? If so, maybe it's because we buy food in bulk so that it lasts us a long time, as opposed to shopping every couple days... Anyway, we had a morning devotional and went off to the orphanage again. This time we brought a lot of balls: footballs, futbols, frisbees, etc. We also led a VBS lesson. Our small group lesson was for the 13+ yr youth, which ended up being a bunch of 15 year old boys and 2 girls. We started playing a game called "Signs" which I'm sure you only know too well if you are involved with a Cru ministry. It's pretty complicated, but they eventually got the jist of it. After 30min or so we switched to the lesson which was based off the story in Luke 17:11 about Jesus and the 10 lepers.
11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” 14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed. 15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. 17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”
We read it in Spanish and we acted it out while it was being read. That lasted about 5min and then we moved into a Q and A: a couple comprehensive questions and a couple reflective questions. Naturally, they gave pretty superficial answers. For the reflections I gave a quick testimony about how my dad passed away when I was 12, but I'm still thankful because it helped me to truly know Christ. Except I actually said, "... because a lot of good things came out of it." (You always think of the right thing to say after you already said something else...) After me, a girl gave a powerful testimony of which I don't have the authority to share, and how she still thanks Jesus for everything. I felt like I was in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting as the group was dead silent during our stories and as we took turns telling our stories separated the group applauded us for our courage and bravery for opening up to a group of people whom we know nothing about...
After our two testimonies, we just moved on to the activity: bracelet making. The guys enjoyed it which was good. I was kind of hoping they'd make bracelets based off their faith, but instead they made bracelets with their names on them, the colors of the DR flag, etc. One boy made a necklace that had a girls name on it. I asked him about it. He said it was the name of a baby girl he was friends with that lives far away. The language barrier made it difficult to go any further, and I wondered what he meant by being friends with a baby. I think he really loves her.
He also made a bracelet that said "JQRY YOUR FRYEMD JM" (JM being the boy's initials). Some letters were missing so he had to makeshift the spelling with letters that looked similar. I love it but I feel awkward when people ask me about it because they say, "Aww that's so cute." and maybe they think, "Wow, Jory's really making a difference in his life." But I don't feel that way. I attempted to talk to him about something special in his life and didn't bring any new perspective into his life/teach him anything. In my head that sounds perfectly logical, but on paper I realize how conceited that sounds because I'm so dissatisfied with my perspective of what his perspective is.
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Our debriefing/reflection time tonight was good though. It brought new perspective into my life. I learned that this orphanage isn't a very popular orphanage. They don't get many visitors. Everyone in this orphanage goes to a school that is only for kids in that orphanage. They go to a church only for those in the orphanage. They don't know much of what is beyond their walls. They don't know strangers. One boy in a wheelchair was asked by one of us what he usually does during the day and he simply said, "Nothing. I'm bored a lot." He was 19 years old, unable to get as much education due to the placement of the school and his disability and very reserved/shy. Going to these orphanages does make a difference. Another story was told about a group of girls who were taken to a movie theater and they saw escalators for the first time. They were scared at first, but then made a game out of it. I've heard it a lot, but it just now is becoming clear; we take advantage of the little things in life.
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We then talked about how we want to spend our last day there. We decided to split up into three groups: big girls, big boys, and children. I was obviously in the mens group, so the two of us and the trip leader planned. I was concerned about going deep with them because from what I saw at VBS, they know the bible. But I don't know if they feel it. They remind me of myself in high school, feeling like I was being dumbed down by the lessons and being able to easily give a "good" answer that I knew the leaders wanted to hear. One time in youth group we played an activity where we had to pick up an object and explain why we picked it (there's more to the activity I just don't remember). I do remember that most kids chose smaller objects, such as there cell phone because it allows them to communicate with people, or the bible because it's God's word, or a soccer ball because they like to play soccer. I grabbed a giant plastic tree and placed it on the table. Everyone laughed but were expectant considering they wouldn't expect anything less from me. I proceeded to somehow explain a metaphor between trees and the way we should live our lives and how it directly applies to my life using examples from my past and how it applies to where God wants me to do with my life. "Wow, that's very deep Jory," they would say. "Haha I'm so smart, I would think." That is exactly what I wanted to avoid; dumbing them down and permitting them to bring out their plastic metaphors so that we can have a "good inspiring story" to tell all of our friends and family back in the United States and show them how much of an impact we made. However at the same time that is what I want, I just want it to be authentic and to come from God, not from B.S.
Thankfully, I really think we have a good strategy. Ben is a very strong personality and had some very good ideas. By my lack of any other idea, I felt like I was pushed out of the group because I wasn't given a role. Ben said to our leader, "I can tell my story and you can tell your story, but I think we should just leave it at two so that they don't get bored." I'll be honest, my feelings were hurt at first, but at the same time he was right, and I couldn't think of any other ideas. Besides, half of the boys had already heard my story anyway. I figured I could still interact in a different way that I haven't figured out yet. We'll see.
"God, I would love to see YOU move tomorrow. If anything, let them leave there with a new perspective. Let them know why we want to travel over seas to demonstrate love with them. God you are awesome. And before I forget, I want to thank you for filling a pot hole in my heart... A little boy hugged me today."
He also made a bracelet that said "JQRY YOUR FRYEMD JM" (JM being the boy's initials). Some letters were missing so he had to makeshift the spelling with letters that looked similar. I love it but I feel awkward when people ask me about it because they say, "Aww that's so cute." and maybe they think, "Wow, Jory's really making a difference in his life." But I don't feel that way. I attempted to talk to him about something special in his life and didn't bring any new perspective into his life/teach him anything. In my head that sounds perfectly logical, but on paper I realize how conceited that sounds because I'm so dissatisfied with my perspective of what his perspective is.
--------------------------------------
Our debriefing/reflection time tonight was good though. It brought new perspective into my life. I learned that this orphanage isn't a very popular orphanage. They don't get many visitors. Everyone in this orphanage goes to a school that is only for kids in that orphanage. They go to a church only for those in the orphanage. They don't know much of what is beyond their walls. They don't know strangers. One boy in a wheelchair was asked by one of us what he usually does during the day and he simply said, "Nothing. I'm bored a lot." He was 19 years old, unable to get as much education due to the placement of the school and his disability and very reserved/shy. Going to these orphanages does make a difference. Another story was told about a group of girls who were taken to a movie theater and they saw escalators for the first time. They were scared at first, but then made a game out of it. I've heard it a lot, but it just now is becoming clear; we take advantage of the little things in life.
------------------------------------------
We then talked about how we want to spend our last day there. We decided to split up into three groups: big girls, big boys, and children. I was obviously in the mens group, so the two of us and the trip leader planned. I was concerned about going deep with them because from what I saw at VBS, they know the bible. But I don't know if they feel it. They remind me of myself in high school, feeling like I was being dumbed down by the lessons and being able to easily give a "good" answer that I knew the leaders wanted to hear. One time in youth group we played an activity where we had to pick up an object and explain why we picked it (there's more to the activity I just don't remember). I do remember that most kids chose smaller objects, such as there cell phone because it allows them to communicate with people, or the bible because it's God's word, or a soccer ball because they like to play soccer. I grabbed a giant plastic tree and placed it on the table. Everyone laughed but were expectant considering they wouldn't expect anything less from me. I proceeded to somehow explain a metaphor between trees and the way we should live our lives and how it directly applies to my life using examples from my past and how it applies to where God wants me to do with my life. "Wow, that's very deep Jory," they would say. "Haha I'm so smart, I would think." That is exactly what I wanted to avoid; dumbing them down and permitting them to bring out their plastic metaphors so that we can have a "good inspiring story" to tell all of our friends and family back in the United States and show them how much of an impact we made. However at the same time that is what I want, I just want it to be authentic and to come from God, not from B.S.
Thankfully, I really think we have a good strategy. Ben is a very strong personality and had some very good ideas. By my lack of any other idea, I felt like I was pushed out of the group because I wasn't given a role. Ben said to our leader, "I can tell my story and you can tell your story, but I think we should just leave it at two so that they don't get bored." I'll be honest, my feelings were hurt at first, but at the same time he was right, and I couldn't think of any other ideas. Besides, half of the boys had already heard my story anyway. I figured I could still interact in a different way that I haven't figured out yet. We'll see.
"God, I would love to see YOU move tomorrow. If anything, let them leave there with a new perspective. Let them know why we want to travel over seas to demonstrate love with them. God you are awesome. And before I forget, I want to thank you for filling a pot hole in my heart... A little boy hugged me today."
Monday, June 11, 2012
Day 2 - Dominican Republic
Two things that I was becoming more and more aware of was that women don't have structure and that children hate me. Neither of these are true but are lies that the devil keeps whispering in my ear.
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I woke up in the morning from my alarm clock, but when I got out of bed I realized that it wasn't mine and that I still had 20min of sleep left. I hit my head on the bunk above mine as I sunk back into my flat, toothpaste stained pillow.
I went to get breakfast which wasn't very filling but was very tasty. I met the rest of the team and was encouraged to share my testimony with them, (considering our goal is to share it with the children we come in contact with). I was starting to get pretty good at it. Not that I was shy at first but rather in the sense that I had crafted my story into a more concise and structured story complete with a conflict, climax, and resolution. We got on the bus to go to the orphanage and were encouraged to share our testimonies again with someone we didn't know. I have to say, I was truly enjoying listening to other's testimonies, but I was getting tired of telling my own. It sounded so... Christian.
I spent most of the morning pretty quiet, drowning in the estrogen sea. You know it's funny, girls will have a plan but they won't stick to it. They get easily sidetracked. For example, we were going around in a circle playing a name game and about halfway through a girl said something about herself that sparked a conversation between her and another girl. It started out like a normal conversation but it eventually turned into a conversation race, each one speaking so fast that it seemed like they were competing against each other. Meanwhile the rest of us were just gawking awkwardly in silence, and the next thing we knew it was time for us to leave. I felt bad for the half of the group who didn't get to introduce themselves because of this extreme digression. If we couldn't complete a goal of finishing a name game, who's to say we can control an entire VBS lesson?
That's why I was wrong. I was wrong by classifying females into a stereotype of being creatures of structural digressions. I was wrong for assuming that we wouldn't be able to control a VBS lesson, and although I never blatantly stated it I was wrong for thinking that our 1 week short term mission trip would not accomplish anything, but would rather hurt the very people we are trying to serve.
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During our planning for VBS, I tried to take charge thinking that we would need a solid plan in order to be successful. As I said earlier, I was scared of hurting the children as opposed to helping them. If you have the chance read the book, "When Helping Hurts" by Steve Corbett and Brian (Fikkert?). It's a good one.
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When we got to the orphanage, we got a little explanation of the home's mission and then the kids slowly leaked out from the inside. Next thing I know everyone is playing with kids except for me and a couple others, but there was no more room! I eventually decided to be a man and to just sit down and play. I grabbed some balloons and sat next to a group playing with Play-Doh. I fused the Play-Doh around the base of the balloon, weighing it down and giving it punching bag properties. I had a lot of fun with the "punching balloon" creation, but the kids had more fun simply blowing up the balloons and releasing them into an atomic frenzy.
We played for about four hours and during that time I had a lot of laughs, saw many cute faces, saw kids make fun of my mannerisms, saw many bored faces, and saw a lot of confused faces from Americans who can't speak Spanish, including myself. Even though I can hold an intellectual conversation in Spanish, the kids tended to just blankly stare at me ignore me when I was struggling to communicate. One thing I noticed that I thought it was interesting was how similar the children were to those in my Mom's 4th grade class in low-income Denver. The older girls thought I was weird and lame (as I noticed by judgmental stares) and the boys flat out ignored me considering there were 22 other beautiful American women, willing to give them attention. I just lied though. I think the children liked me fine. The young ones will have fun with me, but as I've noticed from my Mom's 4th grade class, it seems like the older ones put me through a "testing" phase to see how I react when they're mad. Makes sense because anyone one be friendly and nice when everything is chipper, but when things go wrong a persons true colors shine. I think this theory of mine is interesting because it's almost as if they test people because they don't trust them because of some sort of natural instinct. Almost as if they feel like they've taken the fall for something and we (men) should have been there to lead them. Hmm, strange coincidence? Or proof of God and the human condition?
I also lied when I said that the boys ignored me. They interacted with me, they just showed more affection toward the ladies, which I suppose is a good thing.
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When we left the orphanage, and we all said goodbye and gave hugs, they told us that they loved us. I didn't get a single hug. But I figured I never hugged them either, so who's really at fault?
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As the day progressed I grew ever annoyed at the "soppy-ness" of everyone, and the stereotypical Christian lifestyle that I always tolerated until I read Blue Like Jazz, which is also an awesome book; however I am coming to the realization that while there are many truths in Blue Like Jazz about man-made religion, the majority of my attitude comes from my realization that I don't know how to love. Maybe that's why I don't have a girlfriend.
Love,
Jory
-----------------------------------------
I woke up in the morning from my alarm clock, but when I got out of bed I realized that it wasn't mine and that I still had 20min of sleep left. I hit my head on the bunk above mine as I sunk back into my flat, toothpaste stained pillow.
I went to get breakfast which wasn't very filling but was very tasty. I met the rest of the team and was encouraged to share my testimony with them, (considering our goal is to share it with the children we come in contact with). I was starting to get pretty good at it. Not that I was shy at first but rather in the sense that I had crafted my story into a more concise and structured story complete with a conflict, climax, and resolution. We got on the bus to go to the orphanage and were encouraged to share our testimonies again with someone we didn't know. I have to say, I was truly enjoying listening to other's testimonies, but I was getting tired of telling my own. It sounded so... Christian.
I spent most of the morning pretty quiet, drowning in the estrogen sea. You know it's funny, girls will have a plan but they won't stick to it. They get easily sidetracked. For example, we were going around in a circle playing a name game and about halfway through a girl said something about herself that sparked a conversation between her and another girl. It started out like a normal conversation but it eventually turned into a conversation race, each one speaking so fast that it seemed like they were competing against each other. Meanwhile the rest of us were just gawking awkwardly in silence, and the next thing we knew it was time for us to leave. I felt bad for the half of the group who didn't get to introduce themselves because of this extreme digression. If we couldn't complete a goal of finishing a name game, who's to say we can control an entire VBS lesson?
God can.
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During our planning for VBS, I tried to take charge thinking that we would need a solid plan in order to be successful. As I said earlier, I was scared of hurting the children as opposed to helping them. If you have the chance read the book, "When Helping Hurts" by Steve Corbett and Brian (Fikkert?). It's a good one.
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When we got to the orphanage, we got a little explanation of the home's mission and then the kids slowly leaked out from the inside. Next thing I know everyone is playing with kids except for me and a couple others, but there was no more room! I eventually decided to be a man and to just sit down and play. I grabbed some balloons and sat next to a group playing with Play-Doh. I fused the Play-Doh around the base of the balloon, weighing it down and giving it punching bag properties. I had a lot of fun with the "punching balloon" creation, but the kids had more fun simply blowing up the balloons and releasing them into an atomic frenzy.
We played for about four hours and during that time I had a lot of laughs, saw many cute faces, saw kids make fun of my mannerisms, saw many bored faces, and saw a lot of confused faces from Americans who can't speak Spanish, including myself. Even though I can hold an intellectual conversation in Spanish, the kids tended to just blankly stare at me ignore me when I was struggling to communicate. One thing I noticed that I thought it was interesting was how similar the children were to those in my Mom's 4th grade class in low-income Denver. The older girls thought I was weird and lame (as I noticed by judgmental stares) and the boys flat out ignored me considering there were 22 other beautiful American women, willing to give them attention. I just lied though. I think the children liked me fine. The young ones will have fun with me, but as I've noticed from my Mom's 4th grade class, it seems like the older ones put me through a "testing" phase to see how I react when they're mad. Makes sense because anyone one be friendly and nice when everything is chipper, but when things go wrong a persons true colors shine. I think this theory of mine is interesting because it's almost as if they test people because they don't trust them because of some sort of natural instinct. Almost as if they feel like they've taken the fall for something and we (men) should have been there to lead them. Hmm, strange coincidence? Or proof of God and the human condition?
I also lied when I said that the boys ignored me. They interacted with me, they just showed more affection toward the ladies, which I suppose is a good thing.
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When we left the orphanage, and we all said goodbye and gave hugs, they told us that they loved us. I didn't get a single hug. But I figured I never hugged them either, so who's really at fault?
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As the day progressed I grew ever annoyed at the "soppy-ness" of everyone, and the stereotypical Christian lifestyle that I always tolerated until I read Blue Like Jazz, which is also an awesome book; however I am coming to the realization that while there are many truths in Blue Like Jazz about man-made religion, the majority of my attitude comes from my realization that I don't know how to love. Maybe that's why I don't have a girlfriend.
"God, I truly love you. But I pride myself because I can't love myself. And since I can't love myself it's impossible to love others, which makes it impossible to love You. I guess that also makes me a liar. But that's ok because You died for me so that I may truly love you the way You designed me to. I think I know how to love others I just have trouble demonstrating it. Lord, guide me like a beginning golfer, taking your arms around my body and grasping my hands, guiding me through the entirety of the swing so that my drive can nail a hole-in-one, that way your Spirit, the golf ball, can fill the hole that is in all of our hearts. I want to love children without words. Maybe I wasn't sent here to perfect my Spanish, but rather to learn how to love without words."
God,
Love,
Jory
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