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.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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.
“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.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
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...
It's really depressing.
I am not sure how I am going to survive for 9 more months in this country...
Sunday, October 18, 2009
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…
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…
Thursday, October 15, 2009
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.
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.
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