Wrapping it all up

I definitely do not feel like blogging right now, but we are currently sitting the edge of a New Year here so I feel like I cannot miss this opportunity to blog as I jump into the New Year way before all my friends and family back home. So Happy Almost New Year.

Well, okay, let me get my cynical side out of the way quickly here by saying I generally think New Years Eve is the most overrated day of the year. Yep. I generally do not enjoy it. I don't mind staying up late-ish, but when it becomes a forced activity, dang it man, I hate it. There is so much pressure to be awesome and, well, I usually fail because all I want to do is go to bed. Dumb. This year, we will be spending New Years Eve by going to church for 10-12 prayer and then we are going to Yonela's house for an "after-prayer party" with the youth. Woot. I feel exhausted just thinking about it. Currently, we are all sitting in the living (or "lounge" in SA lingo) waiting for 10 to get here while we listen to the base from the neighbor's house. Boom, boom, boom.

But anyway, let's do a little recap. So 2009, where did I find myself?

-In Musselman Library at Bluffton University, studying and working on my writing and fighting with Pilgram Marpeck (ha)

- laughing so much I got a daily ab workout, crying, celebrating life, and generally being awesome with all my Bluffton friends as we said goodbye to an institution we finally learned to love.

- Driving through the mountains of North Carolina, learning to appreciate a new place and people

- Traveling hundreds of miles with my family, mostly in the back seat of my sister and brother-in-law's car with their dog, Scooter

-packing up my bags and nervously heading to Chicago where I met 17 incredible individuals and prepared to partake on this Radical Journey

- Stepping on African soil (something I never really considered doing before) and getting on step closer to achieving my goal of eating ice cream on every inhabited continent. Check.

2009: yep good things happened here.

As we sit and wait for the New Year to creep its way here, I can't help but think of Jill Enoch (my wonderful roommate from college) and how, for some reason, our sophomore year or so at Bluffton we decided that 2010 was going to be "Good times, 2010." I have no idea why we thought this, but I believe that Jille and I were on to something. I believe that 2010 will be full of good times because I will get to see my family again in this year, I will get to see my dear friends again, but also, I believe I will love Africa at some point in 2010.

Sitting on the edge of a new year is always exciting, a little daunting, but still exciting. It's crazy to think about how last year during this time I had no idea what I would be sitting halfway across the world in a city I had never even heard of. So thinking about this coming year, I wonder where I will be 12 months from now. Generally speaking, I don't really like to think too deeply about what is next for me after Radical Journey (since, unlike everyone else, school isn't waiting for me when we get back). It sometimes makes me really freaked out that I don't have some type of "plan." Yet, living life with no set plans is pretty neat. Scary, but still fine. I have no idea what is going to come next so at least life isn't going to be dull.

Alright 2010 – let's do this thing.

A South African Christmas

Sometimes my immune system likes to give up on Christmas day. More often than not, I tend to get a cold on the holiday (or so it seems – maybe I just notice it more often). Well, that's what happened again this year. On Christmas Eve I lay in my bed, wide awake – not waiting for Santa but rather battling with a terribly dry and scratchy throat. "Oh man," I thought. "This is not how I want this Christmas to be."

Thankfully, despite the fact that I didn't feel well at all, it turned out to be a good day.

Christmas morning we woke up early and headed off to church. This was probably the hardest part of the day for me since we did not sing Christmas songs and the sermon was not about the birth of Jesus. In fact, it just felt like another typical Sunday at BCI, which was really disappointing. But at least the sermon was about Jesus so I guess that's something. I did my best to choke back tears as I tried to sing along to songs that I didn't know.

Afterwards, though, the day definitely started looking up. When we were dismissed from church we headed back to the manse for our "team Christmas" time where we opened our presents and stockings and then ate a lot of cinnamon rolls for "second breakfast." For lunch we then headed off with Marco and Melanie Voller, a couple from our church who invited us over for the afternoon. We ended up at Marco's parent's house in Woodlands, surrounded by lots of people and tons (and I do mean TONS) of food. I think they're might have been 5 different platters of meat alone, not to mention all the salads, side dishes and desserts. It was delicious – but more importantly we got to spend more time with Marco and Melanie who are a really awesome couple. It's moments like this that I am happy to be here – even though I wasn't with my family and even though I had a terrible cold. By the time we left to head back to the manse, our car was packed with leftovers and medicine by incredible people who invited us into their homes on Christmas day no less.

Still, it is nice to have Christmas day behind us now, even though it is a great holiday. But it was one of the things I was dreading about coming here and now it is over. Plus now I know what it is like to feel like to "skip Christmas," - living in a church community that doesn't really talk about it as well as being stripped of tons of commercialism that is associated with the day (and that I generally hate). It's both a good and bad thing. One, I am sure, that I won't forget any time soon.

T’was the night before Christmas…

I remember exactly where I was last year. I was lying on the couch in the living room since my relatives were occupying my room. "T'was the night before Christmas" and everyone in the house was asleep, except me. I couldn't get comfortable. I kept staring at the living room window, smelling the fragrance of the evergreen tree, and thinking. Why this moment stands out so much is because I distinctively remember thinking "I might not be here next year." And then I started to panic. During this point, I had been thinking about participating in Radical Journey but I hadn't decided "officially" (and maybe even hadn't applied yet). I am not sure why I remember this moment so clearly, but it materialism a very real thing that might have kept me from going overseas – my family.

For those of you who have been reading my blog, you know that December has been a really hard month here. Yesterday, in particularly has been really challenging for no particular reason besides the fact that I am here and not in North Carolina, or Kansas, or Illinois. Yesterday was even killer hot so it didn't even seem like the "big day" was coming up.

But today was different. It's been cold and rainy and I must have woken up with a new perspective because I wouldn't have had it any other way. Tomorrow is supposed to be "cold-ish" too and I am super pumped about the rain. I knew this morning as my team moved around the house in a sad silence that I needed to do something awesome to keep this day for killing our spirits.

So Connie and I baked. All day long. It was awesome.

First though we had to run uptown to Pick N' Pay (which was utter madness) to pick up some stocking stuffers that we decided we wanted to have. (Okay, this was a great PnP experience, despite the fact that we had to crawl over people in the store. There was a man there playing the violin for everyone. After he played a Christmas song he asked an employee what her favorite song was. Since she was busy with a customer she kind of waved him off. So instead of leaving the man starting playing that song from the Lion King. You know, "In the jungle the mighty jungle…" followed by the national anthem. Weird but awesome). On our way home we stopped at this Indian food place that we love to get samoosas and roti rolls. Yes.

Then we baked and baked and baked until our feet ached and our kitchen table was covered with goodies for BCI staff.

It was a beautiful thing.

Then we ended the day by eating Pakistani Kima in the living room (since our table is still covered with baked goods) and then watched Third Watch.

I still wish I could be back home right now but still, it's been a good day.

Youth Leader Forecasting

This weekend we headed out to Albert Falls with the youth leaders of BCI for their annual forecasting event (aka planning meeting for next year). And despite the fact that we didn't get to see the actual falls of Albert Falls, it was still a great time. Yes, that's right, I said great time. I've really been struggling lately with most BCI related activities. But I can confidently say that today was the first BCI related activity that I enjoyed being a part of. Even though we had to sit through meetings all day today, it still was great.

We arrived at Albert Falls yesterday evening in time for supper and spent the whole evening planning games – especially this crazy "catch phrase" type game called 30 seconds. Awesome. And even though I can be really awkward around people I don't know, it was wonderful to have time to just have fun together and actually start building some real, authentic relationships here. I am not there quite yet but the foundations are starting to be laid. Hallelujah. Actually the evening continued long into the night as we females sat up and talked about the craziest of topics until 2:30 in the morning.

Tomorrow is the church's annual picnic and I am actually really excited about it. Why? Because we don't have to go to traditional church but instead we get to hang out with the youth leaders again and eat and hopefully play ultimate Frisbee. I believe it's supposed to rain tomorrow so I am desperately hoping that won't happen… Plus we get to go back to Albert Falls, so we might have to have a search committee to go and actual find the falls.

Driving

I am not sure when I'm ever going to have enough gumption. Maybe I never will.

I mean this one two levels. The first is the border, general sense of living here in South Africa and the second is the main focus of this blog: driving. I hate driving. Generally speaking, I am not a big fan of driving at home. Don't get me wrong. I do it all the time and boldly too. I've made a 10 hour road trip in one shot, all by myself. Regardless, it still isn't my favorite thing to do no matter how liberating it may be to be alone in the car, with the stereo up, and the North Carolina Mountains in the background.

Here it is much worse. All my fears of driving are emphasized, like they are on speed. And I am not sure how I am going to overcome this besides just sucking it up and doing it. Yet, I am not a fan of that – because driving here seems insanely dangerous. Everybody (especially Kombis) do whatever the heck they want whenever they feel like it.

Today we went with the BCI staff to a day at the beach, which was really great – we got some sun, saw the ocean, and got a week day off of work. Awesome. But this day at the beach also include more adventures with the ballade. First of all, this car is so ghetto. The bumper is currently held on with zip ties. (We won't mention how it got that way). Needless to say, its current condition does not make me more excited about driving it ever. Anyway, on our way home we almost got in 2-3 accidents. Ugh. The scariest one happened because we were spotted in traffic on this monster of a hill. And the car needs a ton of gas to go anywhere – let alone up a hill. Thankfully we did not hit the car behind us, and after stalling out 3 times we finally got up the hill and my heartbeat eventually resumed its normal rate. I wasn't even driving. Still, if I had been in this situation I would've lost it. I get in the car and just wait for the chance to get out again – and that's not even when I am driving.

If nothing else, the ballade has made me pray more.

Ugh.

Christmas-like behavior

As Christmas quickly approaches I do my best to try and avoid it. This is the not usual avoidance of not wanting to go to the mall during the holiday season since it's a madhouse (both back home and in PMB). Instead, this is a don't-even-think-about-it type of suppressed emotion. Christmas is not coming here. How can it be when songs like "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas" ring out in the hot December air or storefronts are decorated in snowflakes? It's summer here so how does that make sense?

Trying to forget what time of the year actually has been pretty easy since it is summer so of course it doesn't feel like Christmas time at all (unless, of course, it's raining and cloudy, which it has been lately). This is probably not healthy behavior, but I don't like to think about what my family and friends will be doing next week. It makes me feel really frustrated that I am here, in South Africa, doing nothing.

Despite all of these things, we have done some "Christmas-like" things. For instance, last Friday we went to Andrew and Karen Suderman's house for the evening. (Andrew and Karen are Mennonite people here from Canada). Since Karen is very crafty we females spent the evening baking cookies, decorating them (and eating them too of course) and crocheting/knitting. (The boys played xbox with Andrew). It was awesome listening to Christmas music and rolling out cookie dough, though it was still rather weird especially since we ate hamburgers on the grill for supper (which is my favorite summer activity). Christmas and summer – so the best of both worlds.

Also, sitting in our living room now is a baby Christmas tree. It's the most pathetic thing next to Charlie Brown's. We are too cheap to waste our money on Christmas decorations so the only thing we used to decorate it is popcorn. Actually, we didn't even buy our own tree, we are borrowing it from Andrew and Karen. Pretty ridiculous. But I guess it is in to at least have something in the manse.

What can I say? I'm very excited for Christmas 2010

Depressing December

I am tired of this.

I know completely well that I am going to get reprimanded from all sides for that statement. I haven't blogged for several days now mostly because I know people are tired of reading my "depressing view of life" right now. But this is still the reality that I deal with everyday, so if you want a glimpse of how I am doing – this is how I am doing.

I am not sure if it's because it's December and I am doing my best to pretend like it isn't. (It's helpful that BCI apparently doesn't do anything "advent-y") Or if it's because tomorrow marks our 3^rd official month of being here and I still feel like I haven't adjusted to do anything or really done anything besides sit in church. Nor do I really believe that's going to change anytime soon. This is life here in December and right now I am doing my best to suck it up and get out of bed in the morning. If there was a wall, I've definitely hit it.

Phil keeps reminding us to not find worth in what we are doing here, which is really helpful but also really depressing. It's not that I believed that I was going to "change the world" or even South Africa or even PMB, but I guess I was under the impression that what I would be doing would hold some type of meaning. I should be fair and say that sometimes it does (i.e. when I help with ESL). Yet there are days like today when I felt like I was wasting everyone's time – mine, BCI's and maybe even God's.

What's incredibly frustrating is that there is tons of need around us but I am completely immobilized to do anything or even know where to begin. Yesterday, I went with Christine down the street from the church to a woman in Christine's cell. This was the first time that I was in a house in this neighborhood. It was pretty eye opening to the poverty that plagues South Africa.

On the short walk back to the church, I asked Christine if BCI has any type of "social ministry" that can help people in their direct neighborhood pay the bills or provide for other needs. Christine informed me that the poverty is so great that it is really overwhelming since everyone's situation is rather similar. So where would we even begin?

It breaks my heart a lot. Not only because poverty is so ugly and devastating but also because every Sunday I hear the same thing. We need to be raising thousands of rand for this huge, fancy new tent for BCI. I will give them credit and say that putting up a new tent instead of a building Is a good idea since a new building would cost a hundred times more than a tent. Still, I am not sure how I am going to sit this tent next year without weeping while a lady literally two doors down lives without electricity because they are so far behind in their bill. How can I believe that there is nothing we can do about this? Why don't I have a big enough imagination to spark some ideas about how to love our neighbors? It makes me feel even more trapped.

I'm not okay with excepting this fancy new tent surrounded by rundown buildings and lives. Christine told me that the church used to have a soup kitchen once a week but stopped awhile ago and that they tried to have a food pantry but that didn't really work in this context for some reason. But there has to be something, right?

Regardless, something needs to change….

A South African Thanksgiving

I was afraid that we were going to breeze right over Thanksgiving. After a failed Canadian Thanksgiving celebration in October (due to the budget issue we had that month), we had great hopes for November 26^th.

You should know that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Why? Because it has everything I love about Christmas but without any of the commercialism. Great good, great people, and lots of time to relax. I was a little apprehensive about what a celebration of an American holiday in South African would look like. Yet, my family never has had a set "Thanksgiving tradition" so I was pretty much open to anything except one thing: skipping it.

We didn't actually celebrate Thanksgiving on the actual day but rather we headed out Sunday afternoon to Phil and Christine's old neighborhood to celebrate with a bunch of Mennonite North Americans, a South African family, and a Congolese man.

We arrived at the house, arms loaded with two pecan pies, dinner rolls, and an extra pairs of shoes in case any type of outdoor activities arose. It was a good thing too because as soon as we got there Christine made us all play a game of touch football. Yikes. Okay people, I do not like football. I think it's stupid and slow (which it is). I had no idea what I was doing the whole time since I don't understand anything about the game. So I spend a good time of the game running around, creating chaos, and generally being a girl whenever the ball came flying past my head. (Scary). Despite the fact that I did not like it, it was still a lot of fun to be out in the yard, away from BCI, playing games with a bunch of different people.

Then it was on to the main event: the meal. And folks, dinner was amazing. We had all the traditional things, which seemed to taste even better here then they do in the States. Sorry mom.

Overall, it was the best way to spend our Sunday, fellowshipping with one another, eating lots of great food, and generally enjoying the atmosphere. And since it was also a break from life at the manse, the holiday seemed even better. I might even be bold enough to say that it was one of the top five Thanksgiving celebrations I have ever had.     

Leaving Church

(I wrote this blog for Radical Journey, but thought it was fitting enough to post on my own blog as well. Enjoy).

I discovered that faith did not have the least thing to do with certainty. Insofar as I had any faith at all, that faith consisted of trusting God in the fact of my vastly painful ignorance… I have learned to seek holy ignorance more highly than religious certainty (pp 224).

I have a lot of respect for the author of Leaving Church, Barbara Brown Taylor. This book spoke more profoundly to me than I thought it would. Not only is it a beautiful work on creative nonfiction (so much more refreshing than The Long Loneliness too), but it has met me here at BCI and has spoken volumes of truth from the place where I am right now.

Church here as been a struggle and most days I feel completely broken. Some days, it's as if I cannot really breathe in church. I didn't really realize how deep this brokenness ran until I left the grounds of BCI recently, breathing in the fresh air of South Africa. I didn't realize what I've been missing this whole time. This realization has also come to me between the lines of my writing. As I begin to write and reflect, I realize that I am standing in this vast void of my fears, longing for something that I've been unaware of.

My heart hurts a lot for several reasons, some of which go unnamed even to me. But after reading this book, I understand some of them a little bit better. Being here has brought me a greater understanding of the mystery of God. I know where I come from and what beliefs I stand by as a Mennonite. But my attempts to grasp the notion of who God is have been completely blown wide open. I have no doubt that God is alive and well at BCI, but I still struggle here and feel like a complete failure when I don't experience God in the same way that a thousand other people here do. And according to BCI standards, I don't. That is why I am grateful for Barbara Brown Taylor's story because it feels like mine (even though our lives don't align at all). Faith that looks different then the kind found behind the walls of the church is still faith. It is still valid.

I really like the quote I used at the beginning of this. Faith is so risky and unstable and uncertain. And painful. I never thought of it like that but real faith can hurt. Sometimes faith sucks. Following Jesus is hard work and the "devil inside me" often wants to check out. But I know that grace thrives, even when I am unaware of it. I know that God is this extravagant lover. Even when I feel completely out of reach, I still have no choice but to pursue God, even if it's half heartedly sometimes, because I know in the deepest parts me that God is. God is love. And that God is closer to me than my very own heart beat – even when I can't hear it over the noise of BCI or feeling like the worst Christian ever because I don't like sitting in church to the point that it makes me want to cry.

Here, I have learned that God can be found in the most unexpected places – like in the lines of my notebook, a letter from my sister, and an orphan kitty found in a pile of brush.

I really wish I had Rob Bell's book Velvet Elvis here with me, (since I keep trying to quote it). I really liked the part of the book that talked about how God is truth and so when good moments occur that God is in them. When truth is found in these moments, we claim them for God. Because God is truth. There is no separation. And I felt that yesterday evening as we cleaned up after supper, my team all singing out loud to Taylor Swift as we did the dishes and made cookies for dessert. God was in that moment. God had to be – there was no way he couldn't have been since it filled me to the brim with joy.

When I find God like that in the ordinary – in all these out of bounds type of ways – it blows my mind and I cannot help but think that God is there, right with us, singing along with Taylor Swift and rejoicing over his children.

Towards the end of her book, Barbara Brown Taylor talks about things that are currently "saving her life" in the context of her faith. I like this notion – that there are things currently in my life and keep me from losing my faith. I decided to look for these things and found that they weren't very far away.

Phil and Christine are currently saving my life. Not only their counsel but also with their hospitality and open-arm love for us. They always seem to know when we need a break and invite us to things that "restore my soul" in a manner of speaking.

God's beauty found in creation is currently saving my life. When we leave town and head out to the countryside, I am always amazed at how beautiful South Africa is. In between the green mountains and hovering over the blue lakes, God is there pulling me close.

Radical Journey is currently saving my life. Not only the program as a whole (that makes me read books like these) but also my teammates. Through Tim's faithfulness, Kyle's helpfulness, Connie's enthusiasm, and Gabby's gentleness I am seeing God. Whether it's laughing around the dinner table or struggling with tough BCI things together, God's grace so abundantly abounds.

Weeks like this, I cling on to those moments of truth with all my heart. It keeps my faith alive.

A cat named Dwight

I wasn't really sure what was happening. All I knew was that I was hot and tired of picking up brush from the huge "compost pile" (which is mostly just sticks. First of all, "pile" is an understatement. This is like a mountain of brush that has built up for years at BCI. It's in front of this huge wall that they want to move to make room for more parking). I wasn't aware of very much since I listening to Keith Urban on my mp3 player (and realizing how great country music accompanies manual labor. Seriously). All I know is that things suddenly got very exciting. As Kyle moved a few more branches, he made an awesome discovery. Out from the rubble emerged a tiny, black and white kitten, only a few weeks old. Constance, who is our local enthusiast, cried out with aggressive joy and lifted the kitty high in the air. And rightly so, we were all pretty pumped.

We have been talking about getting cat since we've got here. Since our mice problem was especially awful right at the beginning we talked about getting a cat to take of that issue. One dinner, we were discussing the cat and decided that if we did get a cat, then we should name it Dwight, after one of the best characters on The Office. (Yes, we are hardcore fans). However, this whole conversation happened in October – when we were broke. The more we thought about it, the more we realized that we probably couldn't afford since we could barely afford to feed ourselves (Kyle). And so the dream of getting a cat slowly faded away.

That is, until today.

We are now the proud owners of Dwight – who may or may not be a female cat. She is so small, we can't really tell though. Thankfully she is barely old enough to eat on her own (so we don't have to bottle fed her, which is awesome). Right now, we are trying to teach her not to eat the rocks in her litter box. What a weirdy cat. BCI people aren't too sure what they think about this orphan, but once we say we'll use her to catch mice then everyone immediately has a better outlook about it. This is a good thing, since we have all fallen in love with her already.

Here Dwight, Dwight, Dwight…

Churched out

As I sit here in the kitchen with my computer, I can hear a very strange collection of noise. I hear our neighbor, Christian, talking to Gabby in the living room. I hear the buzz of the saws as the woodworks build all types of furniture in the garage of the manse. I hear their loud music of their Americanized radio station (and wonder as "Birthday Sex" comes on again how many times I am going to have to hear that song before I punch a wall). I hear Connie's itunes as she blogs on her computer next to me. Occasionally, I can also hear the radio of the house right across the fence too and if I was sitting in the living, there is a good possibility that I would be able to hear Martine and/or loud African music blaring from the other side of our paper thin walls. This is a very loud place. Unless it's 11 o'clock at night, stillness is a rarity. The workers are even here Saturdays and on Sundays we hear the bass booming a few yards away at the church. Noise, noise, noise everywhere! Most days, I think I am going to lose my mind. At Bluffton, I often sought out the solitude of the library. And even though this is a nerdy confession, I really miss the isolation and peace of Musselman Library. I haven't found a match since I left that place.

Even at church, I cannot find stillness. BCI is a very loud congregation. For the most part, I don't mind it. Really I don't (and I am not just saying that in order to avoid sounding like I am 90 years old. I don't want to be "that person." Ever). But I have found that I experience God here the loudest when things are at their quietest. Yet, things here are hardly ever quiet or still. This church is a well oiled machine – a crazy community that I have trouble feeling like I am a real part of.

But to make matters worse is that there is so much noise going on internally, as I struggle with lots of theology and church structure issues.

On Sunday, we went to the Midmar Dam and spent Sunday morning by the lakeshore. We were surrounded by people and the faint sound of the announcer as well as music. But it was different. Peace was in that water. The general sense of rest and enjoyment found in that place were more of a "spiritual experience" than anything I probably would've experience during "fire Sunday" (which was happening that same morning at BCI – whatever that means). I was reminded from the words from the Psalmist – "he makes me lay down in green pastures, he restores my soul…" I did not want to leave that lake and go back to the church world of BCI.

To make things even more complicated was the fact that I kept getting, what I refer to, as "whiffs of Israel." My favorite forms of memories are ones that come through the sense and occasionally I will smell or taste something that reminds me of being in Israel/Palestine. Whether these smells or tastes actually exist, I am not sure but I do know that I these huge waves of memories crash over me at unexpected times. And on Sunday when this happened, my heart isn't sure whether to soar or to weep. Since I am not sure why I am in South Africa, I found myself that morning laying on the grass and pondering, yet again, if I should've gone back to Palestine and reclaimed a big chunk of my heart that I left there in May 2008 instead of coming here.

I am very grateful to Christine for taking us to this lake. I did, in fact, feel, at least somewhat, restored when we got back "home." Yet, as the rest of the Sunday activities wore on, I came to this rather awful realization. I am very much "churched out." And we have 8 months left. Thinking about Palestine, instead of being here, and longing to meet God in creation rather than in a building are pretty clear signs. That and the fact that I successfully avoided church like the plague this weekend. This is not a good thing since my year of voluntary service apparently means going to church. I don't want to "check out," but I don't understand why church is comparable to pulling teeth.

On Mondays, we have to go to prayer in the evenings. And although I never want to go, once I am there, I usually don't mind it and am sometimes even glad for it. Yesterday, we opted to go to the youth prayer this time. And for the first time since being here, I felt "safe." Not in the sense of successfully avoiding things, (even though I didn't go to the adult prayer because I was tired of Pastor Nina pointing us RJ-ers out all the time) but rather a type of safety that comes when I know I am in community. The "safe in the arms of Jesus" type of security. I was so grateful for this moment. It didn't necessarily last the whole time, but it's at least a start. Its way better than Sundays when I am on the verge of tears because of how desperately I don't want to be there or because I have no idea how to respond to just about anything BCI throws at us.

But it's at least something. And I hold on to these moments with all that I have in me.

The girls’ weekend

I blog about enough "depressing" stuff that I figured it was time for another "good things" blog. This past weekend definitely fits into that category, although saying that makes me feel a little bit guilty since the boys did not have a good weekend at all. BCI has a lot of "encounter camps" which basically everyone who wants to be a part of BCI has to attend. Ever since the disaster that was Kids Encounter Camp, the five of us (well probably only four) of us have been dreading camp with everything we have in us. The boys decided to rip it off like a band-aid and get it over with right away. (The women's encounter camp was the previous weekend, but we females decided that we were not ready for all that wailing and opted to go sometime next year since they have these camps about 2-4 times a year).

This past weekend was the men's encounter camp, meaning that the boys had to stay at the camp for two days (despite the fact that the camp building – or 44 as it is called – is probably only 50 yards away from the manse). Even though we knew the boys, especially Kyle, were not going to be having a good weekend, the girls were still pretty excited about having the manse to ourselves so we could do lots of "girly" things – you know, eating chocolate, talking about Zac Efron, etc.

The official girls' weekend kick off didn't exactly go as planned. Friday night was also the Mission team's love meal that we hold once a month for the foreigners in the church. Since we are included in that bunch (and the fact that I am "on" the missions team), we had to go. By the time it was over, it was already pretty late and since Gabby didn't feel well, Connie and I had to kick off the weekend ourselves by watching old episodes of the office, eating ice cream, and straightening my hair.

On Saturday, we headed uptown to this beautiful café called "The Essence Café." *sigh* It was so lovely and probably the closest thing to an "American coffee house" that we've seen yet. The whole time the three of us were sitting there, drinking our coffees, and eating delightful breakfast, and finally being convinced that Pietermaritzburg wasn't so bad after all. There are actually nice places in this city! We are so excited to go back to this place and try out their lunch menu. (Oh, side note – I drove the car uptown for the first time. I kind of freaked out and almost ran a red "robot" since I was concentrating so hard on shifting. But I survived. I am actually surprised at how smooth my shifting can be. Needless to say, I was proud of myself).

It was a great day thus far, until we locked ourselves out of the manse. Okay, so we seemed to do this at least once every week or so. Usually when this happens we go around to Martine's side of the manse and go through the joining door. Only this time, no one was home and no was at the church to unlock the office that has the spare key in it. Opps. We had been outside enjoying the weather when we came back to the house to find that we were stuck. We actually had to wait an hour before someone showed up at the church and unlocked the keys for us. I guess it could've been a lot worse and in hindsight, it's pretty funny. Actually, it worked out fairly well since we killed time but taking random pictures – so not a bad way to spend the afternoon.

Around 4 o'clock that day, Christine came and picked us up to take us up to Hilton for the night. If you have been following my blog you know how much we love Hilton. Great things always happen when we are there and indeed they did. We spend the rest of the day copying down Christine's fabulous recipes (well Connie and I did), eating tacos, watching High School Musical 3 (yes, don't judge us), and painting our nails black. (Yep, I tried to quit – but they are black once again).

The next day, we all headed to the Midmar Dam, which is this beautiful lake (well dam) that host the "midmar mile" every year. Christine's youngest, Lydia, decided that she wanted to do the 1k race for her age group. So we spend Sunday morning sprawled out on a blanket, enjoying the sunshine and watching the races. We also had a picnic for both breakfast and lunch. It was awesome and so much more restful for my soul than going to church that morning.

Those were pretty much the main events. It was such a good weekend – one that left me with red shoulders and High School Musical songs stuck in my head. Yes, good weekend, indeed.

Just another day at the Manse

Living at the Manse typically presents itself with multiple challenges such as the following
 - we had a large collect of mice. (but they haven't been touching the traps lately so maybe they left. I am not sure or convinced yet)
- only one of our 4 burners works (the small one). Making supper takes about twice as long as it would need to.
- any day I fully expect our oven door to fall off.

Yet those are normal things.

but this week brought for some new challenges.

This week Tim has successfully - well, (I am not sure of the term) did something in the shower so that they could reseal it. (There is tons of water damage in the room next to the bathroom. I am pretty sure it's more than just poorly sealed tile but I am not an expert by any means). Anyway, he ripped the shower up last Friday but it wasn't until this past Friday when they finally resealed it. We've been waiting this weekend for it to dry. So instead of taking a shower we take baths - which is really interesting since the hose likes to spray water all over the toilet. But it hasn't been bad.

Until this weekend

We woke up Saturday morning to find that water did not come out of the hot water taps in the bathroom and in the kitchen. I am not sure what happened besides the fact that they had to turn that water off for some reason. So today I took my first cold bath in Africa. oh man. awful.

and I think to myself - what a ghetto place this is.

I wonder what will happen next. or if anything will ever get fixed here...

*But on a positive note: washing my hair in cold water makes it really curly. Or maybe today was just a magical day for it because it curled beautifully. (It takes a lot for me to actually say that)

A Taste of Northern November

This morning, Connie and I stood in the doorway of the manse and peered out into the rain. From the rate in which the rain was falling and how hard the wind was blowing, bringing a cold blast of air into the already drafty house, one would guess that I am actually back in the Midwest, or at least the mountains of North Carolina. It feels like the Northern Hemisphere's November today. And has for the past three days. This is not good for my state of mind here. If it's warm and hot here then I forgot what it is like back "home" right now (and by home I mean Ohio, North Carolina, and Illinois). I forget that holidays are coming up and that today is my father's 61^st birthday.

But when it's as cold as it is today, it is harder for me to forget the warm colors of the harvested fields in Illinois, the grey, damp sky hovering over Bluffton University, and the fallen leaves of Asheville, that leave the mountains bare and hazy. Actually, the hills around Pietermaritzburg sometimes remind me of NC (not that I can actually see them from BCI's property, which is probably a good thing. If I could, I would probably daily wonder why I am pretending to be in South Africa when my parents live just down the road.

I also get very apathetic when the days are like this. I'm too cold to really do anything effectively except drink large quantities of tea (and thus make routine visits to the bathroom). Nor do I really have any motivation to be here, especially when no one showed up to my ESL class today and I hardly had any work to do. Like crossing off the days of my daily devotional paper, I watch the days slowly waste away, trying my hardest not to think about how many days, how many weeks, how many months we have left. (eight).

This isn't good. When I am apathetic, I miss things like central heating and listening to the sultry voice of Sarah Barellies as I make the long drive from Ohio to Asheville.

Eight is my favorite number. So I have this childish notion that since we only have 8 more months, things have to be looking up. And for the most part they are until I am utterly changed by the weather.

Thank God I didn't go to Sweden. I am sure I would've been a cold mess all the time instead of just occasionally.

Yet, in the midst of the monotony of my current state (which is why I haven't been blogging lately), I am glad for little rays of sunshine in all forms, whether it is the actual sun or reasons to celebrate.

This past Tuesday was Gabby's birthday, so on Monday Connie and I did our best to "sneak" around and figure out ways to make her day awesome. I think we succeeded. In honor of "the Wiebe" we had two days of desserts leading up to the big day followed by a large Chinese food feast, complete with egg rolls, and then peanut butter chocolate cake and dairy ice cream (don't get too excited people – the dairy ice cream's second ingredient?: butter. Gross and weird). So all those things were awesome. Maybe we just need to have a reason to celebrate life more often that way I don't feel like taking a nap forever.

Maybe I just need to try harder to find good things.

A combo of both would be nice, I think…

Sweet, Sweet, Sweet November

I haven't blogged for a week, which is odd behavior for me. My mother even asked me yesterday if I was okay she hadn't heard from me/ I hadn't blogged in a while.

The main reason for the lack of blogs is the simple fact that I honestly have nothing to say. That and I feel like nothing interesting enough to deserve its own blog post has happened. Things are settling into a constant routine, which is good I guess even though it is rather mundane.

But I do have good news to report so here are a few previous week highlights.

Number 1: On Wednesday, Kyle got a package from his parents. Included in the package was Season Five of The Office! We were ecstatic. Since we still have some episodes left, we are still excited.

Number 2: Also included in this package (but cool enough to get its own recognition) were better mousetraps than apparently all the ones in this country. Seriously. We set them up that evening and guess how many we caught? 4 in a ½ hour. No lie. The first trap actually caught two at the same time. Wednesday evening was a very great time. Since that time we've caught 6 more for a grand total of 9. Actually now the real problem is that the only mice left are the babies, which are too small to set off the trap. So it's an uphill battle. But it's coming and someday I hope there will not be mouse poop on all of our silverware.

Number 3: On one of our journeys to Pick N' Pay, Connie and stopped at the new grocery store down the block from our usual store to check it out. And guess what!? They have black beans!!! Connie and I have been searching everywhere for them. It is so great! Connie made black bean burgers on Thursday night. It was awesome.

Number 4: I skipped youth celebration again on Friday. Yep. I am a terrible person. But I am still not a cell because they keep having celebrations, so it's really awkward. So instead, I stayed home and worked on some of my writing. It was awesome. I haven't done that forever. Definitely the best part of my week.

Number 5 Phil and Christine were in Cape Town this whole week. Before they left they told us that we could use their house to hang out if we wanted to. So on Friday night we headed up to Hilton and stayed until Saturday afternoon – watching movies and basically doing nothing. Apart from the fact that I couldn't fall asleep that evening, it was really stellar. Hilton is a rather safe part of Pietermaritzburg too so in the morning I laced up my tennis shoes (or runners – that's just for you Ruthie) and went for a job. I nearly died, which is frustrating since I worked at running all summer. But it's all gone. Even though I couldn't breathe during the run, it was nice not get catcalled the whole time.

Number 6: This hasn't happened yet but I have enough anticipation for it that I will count it. On Sundays, the Americans make supper. And Connie and I decided that when we cook, we are going to have international themes. So tonight's theme?: Mexican Sunday. On the menu, Spanish rice, refried beans (that we are making) and make your own tacos. We are also making our own tortillas. Yep. It's going to be awesome.

Well these were just some things. Hopefully this coming week will bring about better things to blog about.

Day of Durban

Yesterday, my life became more complete. With great anticipation, we rushed to the shoreline until our toes finally mingled with the salty water of the Indian Ocean.

Check.

We had been waiting for this day all week. Finally, we looked forward to a Saturday that was not going to be overwhelming, stressful or something we look at with lots of dread. Weekends here are typically pretty rough. So you can image the excitement as we load up the car on Saturday morning, leaving Pietermaritzburg in the rearview mirror.

It took us awhile to get there thanks to our ghetto-fabulous Honda Ballade that hates hills and competes with buses and semi-trucks on the way up them. (We also had four in the backseat since Nathan Detweiler was also with us. Needless to say, it was a long hour). Also, we had a map and some previous guidance from Christine but really, all we knew is that we wanted to go to beach north of the actual city. But once we found a good place, oh man, my soul started to sing.

During our day at the beach, I started Mike Yaconelli's book, Dangerous Wonder, and as the ocean lapped in the background, the words on the pages became alive. In his book, Yaconelli talked about this child sense of wonder that is important to the Christian life and a risky curiosity that acknowledges and fears the power of the Almighty and still runs towards Jesus with our whole hearts – a reckless abandonment. I had just finished reading this part of the book when I realized that I was getting too hot sitting there on my beach towel. So I tossed down the book as Connie and I made our way into the water (which we later realized was a "no swimming zone." It was part of our living dangerously adventure I guess).

Okay, first of all, although I love the ocean it kind of freaks me out. This is the case mostly due to the fact that I am terrified of sharks. (Typical an irrational fear- yes I know). And it wasn't until this past summer at the beach in Charleston, SC that Jeron Baker "forced" me to play with them in the ocean. It was incredible. Being in the ocean is far better than laying on the sand, working on a tan (which ends up being a burn anyway). As we waded into the Indian Ocean a sense of wonder was once reawakened inside of me. The water was a little terrifying. The waves that day were extremely choppy, the water was freezing, and lots of people drown in Durban because of the strong currents and the plethora of sharks (yikes). So I was really wary as I made my way farther in. And even though I was somewhat fearful, it was invigorating. As each wave crashed over me, I laughed out loud like I was 5 years old. It was beautiful – yes, the water, but also the moment. It felt like the risky curiosity that I had been reading about in my book. The ocean wasn't tame. But it was good.

We spent a good 5-6 hours at the beach, ridding ourselves of stress. The sun, the water and the time together was a perfect balm (although a rather scorching). Days like this make me believe that I can go back and face anything again.

Or so I thought.

The rest of the evening turned out to be – well – horrific in so many ways. After we left the beach we headed into the city to watch Annika and Lydia Detweiler's ballet recital. I enjoyed it and like supporting the arts, but after a way mediocre supper at "Nandos" I was ready to get out of there.

And I really wish that we could've.

As we were leaving the city we saw the kombi in the lane next to us run into a pedestrian. Full force. The poor guy had no chance. I can still hear the thunk and see the man fly in my head. We have no idea if he survived that at all. For those of you who might not know, Kombis are the terrifying public transportation system in South Africa. They are these taxi type vans that are really sketchy, drive like maniacs, and apparently have no desire to preserve human life. Someone also told us today that if you are white you should probably not ride in them. And as a female, yeah, sorry Darrell there is no chance that I will ever ride in one of them. Especially now.

To make things even worse, we ended up missing our exit for the highway twice and ended up driving around in Durban – in the dark. Oh. My. Gosh. We've heard some pretty awful stories of crime in South Africa and how much of a reality that is here. So guess what was going through my head as we drove through this part of town where tons of men were out and about. Every time someone tells us about the city, they make it sound like the entire city is a gang – ready to destroy everything.

When we finally got back on the N3 and headed back to Pietermaritzburg we saw another accident that had already happened. When I realized what I was looking at, I quickly turned my head away. So I am not sure what exactly we saw. All I know is that there was a cop, a car, a body, and tons of blood.

I've had about enough of South Africa.

I hold on to that treasure I felt in the ocean yesterday, but it gets pretty muddled when all I can think about is how the rest of our evening went. We might have been better staying at the manse.

The holiness of the day

I often forget how majestic God is. Unless I am looking at a breathtaking, awe-full scene in nature, I don't tend to view the Omnipotent Being as just that. While Jesus sits among us, and the Holy Spirit moves within us and through us, I often forget that the loveliness of the Divine – the beauty of Yahweh – dwells over us and around us.

This morning we went with Pastor Russell to The Parish of Saint Mary's Catholic Church in Pietermaritzburg. (Pastor Russell is working on his master's and wanted to sample our responses to the Catholic Mass).
And as I was sitting with the few people that came out on a Friday morning for mass, I couldn't help but think of how beautiful everything was. Growing up in Mennonite churches, I found myself this morning transfixed on the elaborate alter and stain glass windows. I know that beautiful designs do not make something divine but I couldn't get away from this overwhelming feeling of holiness. What was interesting was that I couldn't even hear all the liturgy (since the mic wasn't very loud), but it seemed to be lingering in the air.

I've been rather intrigued with Catholicism ever since I got back from Israel/Palestine. Not that I would ever leave the Mennonite church, but nevertheless, it is still really interesting. During that cross-cultural trip, we went to a lot of Catholic and Orthodox churches. Even though some of the experiences in those church were rather frustrating (because of commercialism and the ridiculous human behavior of tons of tourists), the smell of incense lingering in the air always stirs up something in my heart. I know I am being rather nostalgic but I also know that I met God in some of those churches – commercialized or not – especially when the group of Mennonite students I was with sang hymn after hymn, lifting up our vocal offering to God. It sounded like holiness.

Lately, I've had a lot of church experiences that are so different from each other – from the welcoming embrace of JPUSA to the Spirit filled services of BCI. And now the Catholic Mass. The God I've met at all these traditions looks, acts, sounds, smells, tastes completely different. Yet God is. And God is the same in Chicago as God is in Pietermaritzburg. Seeing different sides of God that I am not familiar with is a huge  challenge. The God I see here at BCI is so different. Often, I feel estranged from this God – like an outsider rather than a beloved daughter. I am not really sure how to handle that right now.

But today I saw the holiness of God the father in the stillness of the service at Saint Mary's (which is quite a change from the thundering service of BCI). It made my heart beat in a new way, if only for a moment.

I am glad that God can also be found in the stillness. Stillness is far from anything I've experienced in South Africa up until today. We are crazy busy all the time and there is noise – or sound- everywhere we go. Always. But after mass, I managed to find more moments of stillness and holiness in the rest of my Friday.

The first one came as I was walking back from the church to the manse. While I was making that familiar and frequent trip, I heard the faint cry of the mullah from the nearby Mosque. And as the prayers were cried out, I wanted to join in. Not to Allah – no definitely not. Instead, I wanted to have my prayers carried on the wind. A liturgy for Yahweh that sways throughout the tree branches, causing them to move. An afternoon filled with the sound of holiness and stillness. 

Also, I skipped youth celebration tonight. Yes, I am probably a terrible person because of that. But as I sat in the house – for once completely void of any sound or moment – I felt real peace. Peace that could be anything else but holiness. Finally, a stillness that felt so much like God.

It didn't last very long. As I sit here writing, I can hear the TV from our neighbors on the other side of the Manse. Yet, it was there. And I definitely wouldn't trade these moments of holiness that I've found today for much else.

Novemeber 5th

Today we saw Christmas decorations in the mall. I mean, full out tree and everything.

It's November 5th people.

It was really depressing. I guess that's what I get for being at the mall.

Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your adverbs here

Teaching English is something I never thought I knew how to do. And today it definitely felt like I had no clue what I was trying to accomplish.

Tuesdays are the days in which I lead the ESL class for the group of eager Congolese students who are all older than me. Christine Lindell-Detweiler teaches the Thursday class and although she hasn't had any prior ESL experience, she is awesome at it. It's not fair. I just graduated with an English degree (basically) so the English language and I should be tight. Nope.

Today presented itself with several challenges. The first arrived with the first students. As Connie and I were waiting for everyone to arrive, two boys walked into the room asking if we knew how to speak French. After apologizing (again) for not knowing any other language than English, we asked them if they were here for the English class. Yes, they were. There is nothing wrong with new students, but the challenge came from the fact that their English was far behind the rest of my students (that and I think the boys are really intimidated).

The second challenge came when I was supposed to teach vocabulary used when you go shopping. How hard can that be, right? Well, usually we follow a book but today we were just winging it. It was also problematic since I am not from South Africa. I have no idea what the terms are for everything. Yikes. I learn things today in class, which is good, but I hope that everyone else did. I am pretty sure that the little boys did not.

It felt as if class was a little chaotic.

Oh man, why am I not cool enough to be a teacher?



(side note: my title of this blog as nothing to do with anything really – minus the fact that Grammar Rock is pretty much amazing).

Magical Hilton

"I love going to Hilton. It's such a magical place – good things always happen!"

After a long weekend, Phil and Christine told us on Sunday evening that they were going to take us out for coffee in the morning. But it turned out that if by coffee they meant by going to their house, talking over cups of tea, coffee, and scones(!), eating lunch with them, practicing driving, playing ultimate Frisbee with Nathan, Annika, and Lydia (their kids), hanging out afterwards/playing their piano, eating supper with them and borrowing a ton of books and movies from them, then yes we were going for coffee.

Best. Day. Ever.

It's amazing how Phil and Christine always seem to know when we've had a long week/weekend and really need some time off. And it's amazing how leaving Pietermaritzburg bring with it such a feeling of relief – or rest, I am not even sure how to describe it. But I do believe that Connie's comment (quoted above) summed up the whole day.

Even if we had only stayed for the morning, the day still would've been incredible. Debriefing with the Detweiler's is really helpful – especially when I realize that all the things I am dealing with in the BCI community are not abnormal things. It's not always easy sharing things that I've been struggling with but afterward, it was like I just exhaled after awhile of holding my breath and walking on eggshells.

One element of the day included another driving lesson from Phil. After lunch, Connie and I headed out in our ghetto-fabulous Honda as Phil patiently instructed us, once again, how to drive shift. Actually, I am rather proud of myself. I only stalled out two or three times, didn't go on the wrong side of the road and actually shifted up to 3^rd gear. (Whoa. I know). I am not sure when I am going to gain enough confidence to drive in traffic in the city (the neighborhood that they live in is really chill – actually some parts of Hilton remind me of North Carolina). I might just have to jump right into it. We'll see.

But I will say one of the best parts (even though the entire day was good) was playing ultimate with the kids. I haven't played since Bluffton days and so it felt good to get back in to it. Yes please. I think that we might try and get a Frisbee and play sometime on the church property.

So now that our Sabbath day is official over, I feel as if I can face this upcoming week with a new sense of rest and anticipation. Phil and Christine, you are incredible people.

The good, the bad, and the ugly

Why I feel the need to blog right now instead of going to be is beyond me. I guess I feel a little bit obligated to report about my weekend here since I am always telling the people (well, you readers out there) that I dread the weekend. (Man, that's so sad, but definitely true to the bone).

I did manage to find some good this weekend, which is awesome since lately it seems I spend my entire weekend hating life. Yet, this weekend was still an emotional roller coaster in the sense that one moment I was perfectly fine while the next I definitely wanted to find a way to get away from BCI and maybe South Africa in general (but I can't be too sure since I am not always sure what is BCI and what is South African culture).

Here's basically what happened this weekend. The good and the bad and the ugly.

The Mission's Meeting:

Since I somehow ended up as a part of the mission's team here, I have to attend a lot of meetings. Hooray. So on Friday night Kyle and I found ourselves sitting in the closed bed of a truck, heading to a meeting in Pinetown, which is about 45 minutes away from Pietermaritzburg. We got completely lost and were rather car sick from the fumes and the hills by the time we got to the meeting. Also, we missed supper and for some reason they wouldn't let us eat while the meeting was going on (even though it was mostly watching Dvds). I still don't understand why since it was a carry in/pot luck type of thing. However, the good side of this story was that it was rather interesting – for the most part (until the end when they started talking about 2010 and handing out sports related tracks. Yippy). For the most part, it wasn't bad. It would've been great if they would've let us eaten dinner. Also, this thing went on forever. The PMB group actually left before it was over and still didn't back into town until 10:30.

Weekend noise:

I've discovered that sleeping on the weekends is kind of a joke. We also get woken up by the neighbors playing ridiculously loud African music or by some type of BCI event going on. This Saturday morning it was both. This weekend, BCI hosted a men's breakfast and a women's high tea. Since we females didn't have to go to anything on Saturday until tea time, we took the obvious route of trying to sleep in. It was basically worthless. At 7:30 LOUD MUSIC started coming from the men's breakfast tent. Oh my goodness I wanted to strange something with that happened – or happens as I should say. I try and take a nap on Sundays too. I am not sure why I do that since it never ever works out the way I plan. Noise, noise everywhere. Peace and quiet is hard to come by here.

The High Tea:

The tea time was ok. Actually Gabby, Connie, and I ended up at a table with only two other girls. And ironically we drank our own tea we brought from the manse and ate the things that we brought with us. So, that was a little disappointing. But the nearby tables felt a little sorry for us so gave us some of their yummy food. It was amazing. That's a good part about living on the church's property. People like to give us their leftover food after events. It's amazing – sometimes really random (like after the Kids camp we got like a 4 gallon thing of this nasty juice which everyone hates except for Tim), but it's still nice nevertheless. Okay, so I guess that I should explain that this tea wasn't just a tea. No, BCI likes all their events to be exactly like church services. So Pastor Nina spoke during the tea and then there was an alter call. And this time, Pastor Nina deliberately called Gabby, Connie and myself up to the front to pray for us. It was a little nerve racking since I am not sure if they expected us to get "slain in the spirit" (which didn't happen) or not. So it's a little bit awkward. Actually, what Pastor Nina prayed over me has stuck in my mind all weekend. I don't even remember exactly what she said but it kept bringing back to the comment Darrell left on a previous blog. That this year isn't necessarily about anything specific, but maybe it's all about this process of becoming. Something to think about at least…

Clean up crew:

As we anticipated, we RJers had to tear down everything – basically by ourselves. After we hauled all the chairs back into the church, we started setting them up only to find out (close to when we were about finished) that the chairs with the brown legs belonged in the sanctuary while the chairs with the grey legs were to go in the children's church. Okay these chairs are the same type of chairs. The only thing different is the color of the legs and you can barely tell. Oh man, we were all so pissed off at that point and completely exhausted. I could've thrown a chair at someone.

All day Church:

Since we got recruited into doing this ridiculous skit for the love meal last week, we had to perform it for the entire church. This meant going to all three services. Oh. My. Gosh. To make things even more long and drawn out, we had to go to the leader's meeting, which was another 2 hours of church relatedness today. (Actually the meeting wasn't all bad since I brought my notebook and worked on my novella the whole time. Ha. Ha). I am very ready for break though. But then I realize that that won't happen until July 2010. Actually, the best part of church today happened during the second service. The 10:00 service is the Zulu service and so in addition to the same songs sung at the 8:00 service, some Zulu ones are incorporated as well. Being very North America, it is very challenging to sing these songs. However, today one of the Zulu songs was the chorus to "We praise Thee O God." (The chorus is the part that goes "Halleluiah, thine the glory, etc.) The melody was a little bit different (so much in fact that it wasn't until the second time around that I noticed what song we were singing) but it was awesome. Worshiping together today in Zulu and in English was absolutely beautiful. I am not sure even how to describe it, besides the obvious: that God was in that place and moment in time.

Suppertime:

I've mentioned before that suppertime is probably some of my favorite times here. So much in fact that I feel like when I get back and people ask me what I did in Africa, I'll say "ate food." Awesome. This weekend has been true to this statement. After Saturday's long day of events and clean up and today's busy church schedule, we found ourselves crashing in our house with heaping helpings of pizza (Saturday) or baked mac and cheese (tonight) accompanied with exhaustion and general sense of relief that the day is over and done. Alleluia

 

Well, I managed to write a book. Thanks to all you champs who made it this far. Next time, I'll try to keep it short.

Ha. Okay.

Take my life

Thursday is usually my favorite day of the week. And it is. On Thursday's we have carved out the evening for our team time. No one from BCI is allowed to "schedule" us then. The thing I can't figure out is why I can have a reasonably good day and still feel completely melancholy. I don't get it. It was even my day to cook.

I was standing in the kitchen this evening, waiting for the cheese to melt on the lentil dish I was baking in the oven when I had another "MP3" moment. The Passion Worship Band song "Take my Life." (This particular song is a remake of the classic hymn). And maybe it's because I haven't heard hymns in a long time that it was so powerful in that moment. The chorus of the song says, "Take my life, all of me, Take my life, it's all for Thee."

And I guess I have never really, honestly thought about how painful or uncomfortable actually surrendering one year – let alone my life- would be. I am here for a whole year, people, which is terrible to think of when I don't believe October is ever going to end (and there are only 2 more days left in this month). But during the crescendo of the song, I wanted to cry. There. In the manse kitchen. While supper was practically finished and my four hungry teammates sat in the living room. Waiting.

Yet, I didn't want to pull the dinner out just then because I didn't want that moment to be brushed over too quickly. Ever since I've been here, I have yet to feel any real connection to, well, anything authentic. Or so it seems.

There was beauty in that brokenness, although I don't feel like I have any real conclusion from this "moment in the kitchen with God." After all, tomorrow is Friday, which means the dreaded weekend is here. And we have to go to church for what seems like 72 hours. Woo. But it was something.

And if nothing else, here I am. Trying to let go of any expectations I have for, well, anything.

Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee

Oh man.

Just another night at the manse

“If I had triplets and they were all boys, you know what I would name them?”

“Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego?”

“No. Walker. Texas. Ranger.”

Tuesday nights in PMB tend to be rather, well, uneventful. We’re currently sitting in the living room generally doing nothing. I was trying to think of something interesting to blog about when Kyle random announced his triplet plan “Okay,” I thought. “that is how I am going to start this blog.” (I am not sure if Kyle was reading something when he said this. No context was given, which is fairly typical. Oh, and Tim was the one who guessed. Shocker).

I do appreciate our down time here, especially Tuesdays. (Really, I am grateful since it seems like BCI is slowly eating away at our free time), but sometimes having nothing to do eats away at our minds. For example, currently, everyone with a computer is on Shae Miller’s (another Radical Journey-er) blog playing with these digital fish that you can “feed.”

Apparently we need to get more hobbies.

And more ice cream.

I have been sitting here for a few minutes, trying to figure out any other happenings worthy enough to make the blogspot yet all I can think about is how much I want ice cream. Dang it.

The five of us were actually going to venture out to the grocery store to get some ice cream before it closes. But we chickened out. Well, mostly the females chickened out. It gets dark here around 6:30 and with the repetitive stories of our dangerous our neighborhood is, well, we decided maybe that wasn’t the best choice. (That and the fact that we got our phone bill today and it was more than half of what we’ve been allotted for the entire year. Yeah. We’re not sure what happened. All we know is that we know are way back in the red. More budget problems. Woot).

So no ice cream. Oh well. It would’ve sucked anyway.

The fact that this place apparently only sells ice cream made with vegetable fat has made me come to the conclusion that South Africa is trying to kill me. That and the fact that Pietermaritzburg is literally in a bowl so all the pollution cannot get out. Result? I have insane sinus problems that I cannot seem to overcome.

Excuse me while I blow my nose – all the time. Ugh.

According to webmd.com (yes, I love that cite and am always looking for more illnesses to check out there. Yeah, I’m that awesome), I need to be drinking more fluids in order to effectively fight all the mucus in my head. Yum. So last night, I filled the kettle all the way up and then proceeded to drink the entire thing. I think it was about a liter of tea. Awesome. At least I have a valid excuse to do that now instead of just secretly carrying around this deep rooted desires to drink as much tea as humanly possible.

Well, this is a glimpse of what our evenings here are like. I am sure that after another hour has past we will decide to watch on of our final episodes of Third Watch. But for now, Agatha Christie is calling my name. That and the liter of tea.

The Worst Part

Do you ever feel like you’ve become the worst version of yourself?

I came to the conclusion that so far, South Africa has done nothing but bring out the worst in me. It makes me feel like even more of a failure.

When we were in Chicago, we took this personality test called the Enneagram. (Those faithful blog followers may remember me talking about this before). After taking the test, it concluded that I am a “number four” or a romantic/individualist. And actually it’s right on the money. Here’s what this paper says about being a type 4.

“The Romantic: expressive, dramatic, self-absorbed, and individualistic. Fours are motivated by the need to experience their feelings and to be understood, to search for meaning of life, and avoid being ordinary. At their best fours are warm, compassionate, introspective, expressive, creative, intuitive, supportive and refined.”

However, get this…

“At their worst fours are depressed, self-conscious, guilt-ridden, moralistic, withdrawn, stubborn, moody, and self-absorbed.”

Yeah.

I realized on Friday that I’ve become the worst version of myself here. It’s really discouraging – or should I say depressing since I think that would fit right into that list.

Weekends are when this side of me undeniable comes out for the entire world to see, especially yesterday. Friday was a ridiculously hard day. I woke up with a lot of unexpected things ( for example, church people searching for me in the early hours of the morning), among other things. So already being grumpy, I was not ready to face the insane world of BCI weekends. No way. Plus, my allergies/sinuses are really bad. Really bad. I feel I am getting a cold again but I am pretty sure it’s just sinus problems…ugh. Hooray for living in a bowl of pollution).

Friday was also the day of the “love meal,” which the mission members of BCI host for foreigners here. And I had to cook all the rice for it, which would’ve been fine. I like cooking right? Yeah, I’ve never made that much rice before. Ever. It was pretty much a disaster, but I guess it was still edible.

The love meal definitely wasn’t what I thought it was going to be either. I was kind of looking forward to it since it sounded great. Well, it was a meal – but it was definitely a church service with food involved. So that was a little disappointing (although it wasn’t surprising since it is BCI after all) especially since I was already grumpy because of the rice disaster. I did not feel like jumping around, singing to songs on a DVD with a roomful of hungry people. It was even more frustrating when half way through the first song, they turned it off because people weren’t praising God “correctly” or enough and made us start over. Oh man. I was officially frustrated at this point.

I am not sure what to do on days when I hate South Africa –especially on days like Friday when I did not want to be here especially since I couldn’t breathe and apparently wasn’t worshiping God the right way. I find it extremely difficult to live in a world where church, home, and work are all the same thing. I am not sure how to function here at all.

Eventually, as the evening wore on, I began to lose my grumpiness, especially after the RJ team had to do this ridiculous skit. But still, as I walked back to the manse with a big pile of dishes to wash, with night sky above my head, and the sound of tons of youth kids from the youth service yelling “Go Jesus Go,” I was glad when the day was over.

This is still real part of me. And I have no idea how to deal with that Anna. Nor do I think anyone else does either.

Oh my goodness

Joyfilled Moments

Because the concern of my readers (mostly of the Asheville variety), I decided to write a blog that only focuses on the things that have brought me joy here. Since everything is still relatively new (and will be for a long time), it’s really easy to focus on the negative, especially when some days (mostly weekends) are unbelievably hard. So here are some things from this week that have been awesome.

Tala Game Reserve :

After this ridiculous weekend, Phil and Christine took us to the Tala Game Reserve near Durban for a day of sun, food, debriefing and crazy wild animals. It was unbelievable.

Well, first of all let me explain something. Before this whole experience the five of us were excitingly talking about all the cool things we were going to see. And our dear, low-German speaking teammate (Gabby) accidently called the rhinoceros “rhinosaurs.” So going into this day we kept saying “rhinosaurs” typically followed by a “rawr.” Awesome.

Anyway, at Tala we had a great braai (a cookout, South African style) complete with “American” potato salad (which was probably my favorite part). Plus, we had some meaningful conversation. So win-win (win) all around. I really appreciate Phil and Christine’s input and guidance as we try to process everything that’s been happening lately.

After lunch, we headed out into the cars for some sightseeing. Amazing! Ostriches, wildebeest, hippos, rhinos, giraffes, zebras, and different varieties of deer looking creatures (all of which I forget the names) were literally just a few feet from our car. As the giraffes chomped on leaves right outside of the car window, I had this great sense of “I can’t believe I get to live this life.” Usually, that is not my mindset in this country – unless of course I am seeing the wildlife here (which doesn’t happen very often). Good moment.

Jumping pictures:

Apparently taking jumping pictures is what team South Africa does (thanks to my influence). Oh man. The pictures turn out ridiculous. Every time we look at them, I end up crying because I am laughing so hard.

Evening Team Times

After a long day, whether it’s good or bad, probably the best part of my day is when my team settles in the living (usually with some type of dessert and hot beverages) to watch episodes of The Office or Third Watch. It’s so chill. Ah, wonderful.

Pick n’ Pay:

This past Tuesday we went to the Pick n’ Pay (which is one of the local grocery stores that we go to every other day). Why? Because we actually had money in our bank account. OH MY GOODNESS! Connie and I bought more food then we carry. So we ended up calling Kyle and had him “practice” his driving by coming to the store to pick us up. (We’re not supposed to use the car except for work or long trips. But it was actually helpful for him to practice). When we unpacked the food, the fridge was beautifully full. Awesome.

Driving: South African style

Speaking of driving, Phil took me out driving today for the first time. Okay so I don’t really enjoy driving in the States. Don’t get me wrong, it can be very liberating to drive 8 hours with no one except the open road and a loud stereo, but it’s never anything I’m ever real pumped to do. Plus here they drive on the other side of the road, the other side of the car, and its shift. All those things freak me out. But actually I was impressed with myself. I didn’t stall too many times and when we drove around the church block I only stalled once and did not go on the wrong side of the road. But wow, was I sure sweaty by the time we got back. It’s going to take me a long time before I feel comfortable behind the wheel. But I am excited be learning something new.

Granola

Connie and I decided to make granola (since we had money to buy the rest of the ingredients that we needed). Yum. Yum. It turned out amazing. But the sad news is that food doesn’t last very long in our house. It will be completely gone by tomorrow. I like to eat heaps of it on ice cream. (Someone from church gave us a big tub of it, it’s pretty mediocre but still exciting that ice cream has graced out freezer with its presence.

Bananagrams

I have this sweet scrabble-type game called Bananagrams (which is basically speed scrabble). Connie, Tim and I played it again tonight. I am not very good but I have great aspirations to be. (I believe that if I am good at scrabble then I would become a better speller. So far, no luck). My aim is to not use small words. Instead they have to have at least 5 letters in them. I lose a lot. But it’s really fun.

Supper time

Okay, so if suppertime would fight with evening/dessert time, I am not sure who would come out the champion. Eating meals together as a team has been a definite highlight. It especially helps if we all have had a pretty good day. Tonight at supper was especially humorous for some reason.

KFC

This is random there is this giant KFC bucket (you know, the kind they use on top of the actual restaurants) on BCI’s property. After we discovered it, it was only a matter of time before pictures were going to be taken with it. Today it finally happened. We took this one especially that is especially out of control. I was trying to jump on to the bucket and somehow ended flat on my face. It’s great. Sometimes I just think of this picture and start laughing.

Okay, so those are some of the good moments of the week. Actually, I am thankful that I didn’t have to work very hard to find them.

Sad news

The ice cream here is really awful. The cookie n' cream flavor tastes like butter. 

It's really depressing.

I am not sure how I am going to survive for 9 more months in this country... 

Kids Camp

Children!

There is a clip from an online cartoon called “teen girl squad” on homestarrunner.com (I think it’s the first or second episode) that has kept coming to my mind this whole weekend. (Okay first of all, this cartoon is ridiculous, really random and has an odd, but awesome sense of humor. It generally tells the story of these four teen girls. The whole comic is drawn like stick figures on notebook paper). At one point in this particular episode the teen girl squad gets “mauled” by the huge sign that says “CHILDREN!”

Yeah. It doesn’t really make sense but that’s exactly how I felt this weekend.

This weekend my RJ team had to help out at the children’s encounter camp. (Thankfully the camp building the church uses for these camps, which happen seemingly all the time, is right on the church’s property so we didn’t actually have to go anywhere and when we could sleep, we got to sleep in our own beds. That was helpful). For the most part, I tried to go into this thing on Friday with a positive perspective. Yet, knowing our entire weekend was going to be more exhausting then the week was not a very thrilling thing. Counting the hours until Monday is really pathetic. Besides, when we arrived Friday evening, the first thing we noticed was that we were supposed to report to the camp at 5 freakin’ 30 in the morning.

Crap.

We did a lot of “sucking it up and serving the Lord” this weekend.

Okay, so generally speaking I don’t enjoy spending time with children (unless those children are Titus and Mikaela Yoder). So working at this camp was something I was dreading anyway and I knew that after the first announcement of “we’re not here to have fun; we’re here to praise the Lord,” that it was going to be an interesting weekend. It became even more challenging the longer we had to sit in the sessions (for various reasons. If you want to know you can ask me later. I am not sure if I want to post all of them in this blog).

At the camp, I once again became aware of how distracting my presence can be to the kids solely because I am American. There are a lot of kids in this country that really want to be Americans based on the life they see portrayed to them through the media. (There are a lot of Hannah Montana and High School Musical t-shirts floating around here). When I am in the group, the kids don’t want to talk about Jesus but would rather ask me questions. For instance, I was asked crazy things like if I know Beyonc­­­é, Chris Brown, or Mirah Carey. The weirdest part is that the kids are genuinely surprised when I laugh and say no. One girl in particular asked me the most ridiculous question-whether or not I had met any “Negros” before. (I am not exactly sure what perception the kids are getting from their TVs. My favorite story like this though has to be when a little boy asked Kyle if he knew the rapper, Eminem. When Kyle said no, the kid said, in shock, “but you’re white”).

On a serious note though, the biggest challenges for me came at two different times: The first was when I realized that the girls in a discussion group I sat in on did not realize that Jesus had rose from the dead. This was not the beginning of the camp. (Apparently the staff forgot to bring up that important part of the story after they showed the kids the crucifixion scene from The Passion of the Christ. Oh man). The second came later on Saturday evening when the leaders of the camp (including the RJ team) had to lay hands on the kids and prayer for them. Okay, first of all, I have no problem with doing this and what I prayed for the girls was sincere and honest. However, after I finished praying for someone, I looked up and realized that almost everyone was lying on the floor being “slain in the spirit.” As I looked around, I couldn’t get away from the feeling that this was just a dress rehearsal. That we were teaching the kids what is expected of them in the worship life of the church. And they were acting the part. I knew I could not judge what happened in those kids hearts, but I also had this real sense inside of me that I couldn’t ignore. I had to get out of there. I left the building really upset.

After that experience (well and for most of the weekend), Kyle, Connie and myself spent a good amount of time helping the catering team. It actually turned out great since I am not sure how they would’ve have accomplished everything themselves since there were only three of them and 75 people including children and staff. In retrospect, I am so glad that we got the opportunity to work with Auntie Phyllis, Dawn and Sharon. These women are incredible and very loving people. Without their friendship and list of things to do, I am not sure how I would’ve made it through this weekend. They were so glad to have our help, especially Kyle’s (who soon became known as “sausage man” for his sausage frying skills each morning). The catering team seemed really impressed at this male who was so willing to help with “women’s work.” I told Kyle that he helped tear down gender barriers this weekend. Ha. Ha).

And now, at the end of the weekend I feel this real sense of dread in me. Why? Well, these camps happen a lot and the women’s camp is coming up in November. I don’t think we have a choice of whether or not we want to go or not.

Oh man.

After a weekend like this, I can’t help but think that this is going to be a very hard year…

Evening in Eastwood

I did not want to be there.

Sitting on worn-out mattresses in the back of Pastor Hein’s enclosed truck bed, watching the evening settle on Pietermaritzburg as dark clouds that rolled in over the city, was the last thing I wanted to do. I looked over at Connie sitting across from me. She was staring out the window with the same expression I imaged I probably had on my face too – a look that was subtly annoyed, blank eyes starting out the window to the dirty streets.

Earlier that afternoon, I had been in the kitchen pouring through the More-with-less cookbook when Tim ran into the room. (I am not exaggerating when I say ran here, people).

“Pastor Hein just called,” he announced, excitement practically jumping out of his skin. “You’re going evangelizing tonight.”

Crap.

Annoyed, I looked up from my cookbook. “Just me?” I asked.

“No, You, me and Connie are coming too.” He said as he stood there for an awkward moment before he headed out of the room, but long enough to notice that I did not share the same enthusiasms that he did.

Shortly after Tim’s dreaded announcement, Connie came into the kitchen, setting a cookbook on the table. “I was going to make dinner rolls,” she told me, obviously frustrated that her night to cook dinner was going to be drastically different than anything she had anticipated. I didn’t blame her either. The nights I get to cook supper are my favorite day of the week and I know Connie, the avid cook and even more passionate baker, felt exactly the same. It was rather disappointing for both of us (I mean, come on, who wants to go from the idea of having dinner rolls to not having them in the same moment, especially on a day like today when the food options are slim to none).

Once again, we had received a phone call and without much warning, Pastor Hein was coming in a half hour to take us out evangelizing. So whether I liked it or not – I was going on “evangelizing.” (Breakthru Church has been preparing for this week for awhile. It is to be a week of sending out teams from their cell groups out into the harvest to save souls. I will say though that I am glad that Pastor Russell is against straight up street evangelism, but rather BCI emphasizes reaching out to people church members already know. Unfortunately – or is it fortunately, we RJers don’t really know anyone yet, especially out of the BCI context).

The three of us sat in silence in the back of the truck until we arrived at a vacant parking lot in Eastwood (a township right outside Pietermaritzburg). Shutting off the engine, Pastor Hein came around back to get Tim, leaving Connie and I in the back and his wife, Melane in the front. Melane switched seats, started the truck again and led us away to some unknown location.

“I hope they don’t except us to take the lead.” I told Connie as we bounced around in the truck. “I mean, how am I supposed to tell people that Jesus loves them when I don’t love myself yet because I will have just met them?”

Barely a few minutes later, Connie and I found our unsure selves standing at the gate of a small boarding house. The students eyed us curiously and cautiously. The out of place Americans did the same.

“What is this place?,” I thought as Melane lead us into the small building after briefly chatting with a woman there who appeared to only be there long enough to prepare the evening meal for the youth. We were ushered into the area of the large room set aside for the “living room” – two couches angled towards a surprisingly nice looking television.

“Oh my goodness…” I wanted to whisper to Connie sitting on the couch next to me. But I remained silent and waited as the girls we came to visit filed into the room, bright eyes no doubt wondering – who are these people? As we went around the circle making introductions, each girl said there name and age as I smile and nodded at each of them, shamefully pretending that I understood how they pronounce their names which were full of Zulu “clicks” that bewildered my tongue entirely. All these girls, ages ranging from 13-18, lived here – in this tiny boarding house, most of them hours away from their families, in order to go to school in Eastwood.

Although I still felt out of place, the more Melane talked with the girls, the more I began to relax. In fact, it appeared that Melane was not planning on “evangelizing” these girls. (We found out later that Melane had never met these girls before and thus had no intention to try and convert them since we had all barely met).

“Do you have any questions about the church?” Melane asked the girls.

The girls sat their quietly until one spunky girl dressed in poke-a-dot pajamas spoke up. “Is the temperature in America different?”

That question seemed to open up a floodgate. The girls were dying to ask all these new Americans sitting in their living room all sorts of things.

No, I don’t know any other languages besides English [one of my biggest shames here]. Yes, I had a locker in high school although, unfortunately, Troy Bolton did not go to my high school. [Okay, no one actually asked me that, but the locker question did come up because of the High School Musical]. No, the U.S. is pretty different then it looks like on TV.

“Why did you decide to come here?” The oldest girl, who still wore her navy blue school uniform, asked me.

Since we’ve been here, I’ve been finding it rather difficult to explain to children, especially this young group of girls, why I decided to come to their country. How do you say “to escape the direct clutches of the empire for awhile and find out what God is like in South Africa” to a bunch of girls who treat us like rock stars all because we’re from the States.

As we concluded our time, Melane said two prayers so that the girls could switch in between them in order to all get a chance to hold our foreign hands. As we left, the girls swarmed us with hugs -all excited to have met and hugged American friends. Back in the truck, I wondered how many of the girls we had just met were planning on coming to the youth just for a chance to hang out with the Americans.

The feeling left a weird taste in my mouth.