Today we got off the Transmilenio (city-wide bus system like a metro or subway, but at street-level) at Calle 72 and started walking up toward the colectivo (little bus to go out of the city to the farm) as always. J was asleep in my arms, after insisting that he wasn't tired and didn't want to sleep. I heard a noise like a gun shot further up, but wasn't sure what it was. There were people standing around in the medians and I realized that there were a lot of people in the road and sidewalks a few blocks up, right about where the colective leaves from. I heard some more shot sounds, but it was surprisingly hushed. Crossing the street, I noticed that the music store had two of its three large doors closed off, as though it were closed. A moment later, I felt a strange burning in my throat, which moved into my nose and even to my eyes. Tear gas. Turning back, I went into a grocery store. We needed bread anyways.
The explosions kept going off. There's a university on the 72, toward where we were heading. Asking the check-out ladies, they said that there was, as I had guessed, a demonstration having to do with the university students.
We made our purchase and I put more minutes on my phone, then left to figure out how to get home, since our normal route was out of question. The colectivos couldn't even get through there. By this point, J had woken up. I explained to him that there was a gas outside that could hurt our noses and throats and eyes, so we needed to cover up with my scarf, and we headed out, taking a taxi to the 85 to wait for the bus there. He said the police were "fea" (ugly, bad) and I said that the gas they were shooting was feo, but also whatever the students were doing was feo and a bad situation in general. Later he asked me if the police were good or bad. "I don't know," I told him. "Sometimes they do good things, and sometimes not."
Yesterday the kids went to see a play. I stayed behind to make lunch. A frequent visitor (street person) came by to pick up a Bible that one of my co-volunteers had sent for him. He ended up talking to me for about an hour and helping me clean out the cupboards that mice had gotten into. A few times I wondered if I should make him leave or if I could trust him or I just wanted to be alone again, but it turned out to be a really cool visit.
It looks like I'm going to do my YWAM school in March. Well, I haven't applied yet or anything, but that's what I'm feeling. I'm sad about it today. Other days I'm really excited! It's going to be hard to leave, even though I plan to come back after the 6-month school and outreach.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
process
My shoulders are sore and my legs are tired. Today we had a work day at the farm, so I spent a few hours dragging limbs to a pile for burning and then carrying posts on our shoulders over hills to make piles of 50 for fence posts so the cows can start eating the grass up the mountain.
It was nice work. Of course it feels good to be out in the fresh air, and to be getting exercise, but also to see progress, to see something happen, makes it so satisfying. My work here is usually very unlike that. I’m working with people, with children, and hoping to see long-term change. A friend called it a “slow redemption process” that’s being worked out. In Little J., in all the kids, in me, in all of us.
We’re all being pruned, cut back, shifted about, refuse thrown in a pile for disposal, making room for better things to grow and making us more useful and use-able. ‘As iron sharpens iron, so one friend sharpens another.’ Community is so important to our growth processes. ‘Abide in Christ’ and the Father will take care of the changing process, the Father is the gardener who does the pruning and watering and fruit-producing.
Another thing that I’ve been thinking about this week is being child-like, in the good sense. In the sense that Jesus talked about when he invited the kids to come be with him, when he said that whoever welcomes a little child welcomes him. I was reading the section of the Transfiguration in the gospel of Mark . Peter, James, and John get to go on a hike with Jesus. He supernaturally changes and then Elijah and Moses appear. The three of them are having a chat and “they were so frightened” that Peter “didn’t know what to say” (9:6). So instead of just keeping quiet and taking in as much as he could and being silent in wonder, he spoke up and said something foolish. He was uncomfortable with the situation. He was scared, he felt like he needed to say or do something. Kids don’t do that. If there’s something they don’t understand, something amazing, they let themselves be amazed. Or if they have a question, they ask it. Why do we lose those attributes when we get older?
It was nice work. Of course it feels good to be out in the fresh air, and to be getting exercise, but also to see progress, to see something happen, makes it so satisfying. My work here is usually very unlike that. I’m working with people, with children, and hoping to see long-term change. A friend called it a “slow redemption process” that’s being worked out. In Little J., in all the kids, in me, in all of us.
We’re all being pruned, cut back, shifted about, refuse thrown in a pile for disposal, making room for better things to grow and making us more useful and use-able. ‘As iron sharpens iron, so one friend sharpens another.’ Community is so important to our growth processes. ‘Abide in Christ’ and the Father will take care of the changing process, the Father is the gardener who does the pruning and watering and fruit-producing.
Another thing that I’ve been thinking about this week is being child-like, in the good sense. In the sense that Jesus talked about when he invited the kids to come be with him, when he said that whoever welcomes a little child welcomes him. I was reading the section of the Transfiguration in the gospel of Mark . Peter, James, and John get to go on a hike with Jesus. He supernaturally changes and then Elijah and Moses appear. The three of them are having a chat and “they were so frightened” that Peter “didn’t know what to say” (9:6). So instead of just keeping quiet and taking in as much as he could and being silent in wonder, he spoke up and said something foolish. He was uncomfortable with the situation. He was scared, he felt like he needed to say or do something. Kids don’t do that. If there’s something they don’t understand, something amazing, they let themselves be amazed. Or if they have a question, they ask it. Why do we lose those attributes when we get older?
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The sun always comes up
October is a rainy month. One afternoon I got caught in a downpour twice, and even though I had an umbrella I had to change both times because my pants were soaked! It was definitely a "frog strangler" as I grew up hearing, or "raining buckets" or, as we say here "Estaba cayendo un palo de agua" -- which I like to translate, it's raining so hard it'll beat you with a stick!
We had a whole week of rain, but since then it's been nice with a few days of sun and then a rainy one. Today was clear. I woke up early and came upstairs as the eastern sky was starting to lighten. The morning star twinkled over the stark black line of the mountains on the other side of the valley. A few sparse clouds turned pink as roosters welcomed the gift of another day. It's such a blessing that I get to live here on the farm. J. and I are in Viña house now. Another change, but not as drastic as moving from the city to here.
I'm looking toward the horizon of my time here and wondering when the light will break over the peaks and be shed on the next step. Just like I felt this morning, I want to see what will come to light but the moments of semidarkness are so beautiful that I don't want to let them go. I know that as soon as I decide when and where I'm going to do my YWAM trainig school things will begin to change. The planet keeps turning, the star distances itself and fades, the pink clouds turn peach, then grey. Yes, there will be other sunrises, but never the same.
We had a whole week of rain, but since then it's been nice with a few days of sun and then a rainy one. Today was clear. I woke up early and came upstairs as the eastern sky was starting to lighten. The morning star twinkled over the stark black line of the mountains on the other side of the valley. A few sparse clouds turned pink as roosters welcomed the gift of another day. It's such a blessing that I get to live here on the farm. J. and I are in Viña house now. Another change, but not as drastic as moving from the city to here.
I'm looking toward the horizon of my time here and wondering when the light will break over the peaks and be shed on the next step. Just like I felt this morning, I want to see what will come to light but the moments of semidarkness are so beautiful that I don't want to let them go. I know that as soon as I decide when and where I'm going to do my YWAM trainig school things will begin to change. The planet keeps turning, the star distances itself and fades, the pink clouds turn peach, then grey. Yes, there will be other sunrises, but never the same.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Nostalgia
Sitting around the big, wooden table at Kiwi House, finishing up a simple lunch and chatting, I noticed Steve’s hands, holding the soup spoon as he talked to us. They’re my grandfather’s hands. I loved those hands, once so steady and careful, strong yet gentle. A tear stung in my eye, surprising me into turning my head to stop watching Granddad’s hands on Steve’s body.
I just ate a piece of pumpkin pie that Steve’s wife, Evi, made. Thanksgiving is in a month and a half. We’re planning to do a whole dinner, but I know we’ll be missing some things: cranberry sauce, the plates in a stack on the counter, collard greens and turnips, preparing the feast all morning long with the women of the family…
I want to go to the house in Sneads Ferry; I want to go to the beach. I want to eat roast beef in Chesapeake and sit around in the living room with the family. I want to go to the cabin in Robbinsville, and feel free to wander around in the woods a bit. I want to visit at least a dozen places in Greensboro.
I listened to a sermon from my church online last night. I’m thrilled that they now have a podcast, and Greg’s words sunk into my heart, adding to the things God is mixing together over the last week. A few sermons, a letter from a YWAM leader to all the bases, a chapter in the Experiencing God book that we’re studying in small group, conversations with housemates and coworkers… a pinch of this, a handful of that, stirred by hand because these things aren’t quick or easy.
I just ate a piece of pumpkin pie that Steve’s wife, Evi, made. Thanksgiving is in a month and a half. We’re planning to do a whole dinner, but I know we’ll be missing some things: cranberry sauce, the plates in a stack on the counter, collard greens and turnips, preparing the feast all morning long with the women of the family…
I want to go to the house in Sneads Ferry; I want to go to the beach. I want to eat roast beef in Chesapeake and sit around in the living room with the family. I want to go to the cabin in Robbinsville, and feel free to wander around in the woods a bit. I want to visit at least a dozen places in Greensboro.
I listened to a sermon from my church online last night. I’m thrilled that they now have a podcast, and Greg’s words sunk into my heart, adding to the things God is mixing together over the last week. A few sermons, a letter from a YWAM leader to all the bases, a chapter in the Experiencing God book that we’re studying in small group, conversations with housemates and coworkers… a pinch of this, a handful of that, stirred by hand because these things aren’t quick or easy.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
wild honey from the Rock
Psalm 121
I look up to the mountains – does my help come from there?
My help comes from the LORD, who made the heavens and the earth!
He will not let you stumble and fall; the one who watches over you will not sleep.
Indeed, he who watches over Israel never tires and never sleeps.
The LORD himself watches over you! The LORD stands beside you as your protective shade.
The sun will not hurt you by day, nor the moon at night.
The LORD keeps you from all evil and preserves your life.
The LORD keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.
This morning after I got J. off to Bogotá on the ministry bus, I went inside, poured myself a coffee and a bowl of cereal, and opened up my bible. This was the first thing my eyes landed on. I looked up from the page, out the picture window to the 6:00 a.m. cloud-shrouded mountains. Reading again, tears stung in my eyes at the confirmation that He will never sleep, He will never leave me unattended, having to go it alone. He is the one watching over me, knows my going out and coming in, has plans for good and not for evil, for a future and a hope, will complete the good works he has begun. I, too, am Israel, one who struggles with God and with life.
This morning I thank the LORD for his faithfulness, for a day of rest, for good friends, for a wonderful family, and that He willingly and lovingly takes my worries and stress and mistakes and inability, replacing them with his life, his spirit, his plans.
I feel him say to me, “Don’t pick up the burdens I’ve already taken from you. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
“For it was I, the LORD your God, who rescued you from the land of Egypt [from the weight of the world on your shoulders that you were not able to rid yourself of]. Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it with good things.” Psalm 81:10 (the title of this post also comes from that psalm)
I decide this morning to cast my cares at the foot of the cross, to still my soul in his presence, and to open my mouth, so that my Father and friend can fill me up with good things.
I look up to the mountains – does my help come from there?
My help comes from the LORD, who made the heavens and the earth!
He will not let you stumble and fall; the one who watches over you will not sleep.
Indeed, he who watches over Israel never tires and never sleeps.
The LORD himself watches over you! The LORD stands beside you as your protective shade.
The sun will not hurt you by day, nor the moon at night.
The LORD keeps you from all evil and preserves your life.
The LORD keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.
This morning after I got J. off to Bogotá on the ministry bus, I went inside, poured myself a coffee and a bowl of cereal, and opened up my bible. This was the first thing my eyes landed on. I looked up from the page, out the picture window to the 6:00 a.m. cloud-shrouded mountains. Reading again, tears stung in my eyes at the confirmation that He will never sleep, He will never leave me unattended, having to go it alone. He is the one watching over me, knows my going out and coming in, has plans for good and not for evil, for a future and a hope, will complete the good works he has begun. I, too, am Israel, one who struggles with God and with life.
This morning I thank the LORD for his faithfulness, for a day of rest, for good friends, for a wonderful family, and that He willingly and lovingly takes my worries and stress and mistakes and inability, replacing them with his life, his spirit, his plans.
I feel him say to me, “Don’t pick up the burdens I’ve already taken from you. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
“For it was I, the LORD your God, who rescued you from the land of Egypt [from the weight of the world on your shoulders that you were not able to rid yourself of]. Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it with good things.” Psalm 81:10 (the title of this post also comes from that psalm)
I decide this morning to cast my cares at the foot of the cross, to still my soul in his presence, and to open my mouth, so that my Father and friend can fill me up with good things.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
country mouse, city mouse
Colombia lost to Uruguay 1-3 in soccer today. Bummer, but it was fun to watch the game with Ingrid at the pizza place.
Decision made about J's and my living situation: Within the next couple of weeks we'll be moving our stuff out of Torre Fuerte (the house in the city) up to La Cabaña, a small house further up the mountain on the ministry farm. It's tiring not having all of our belongings in one space, and I'm excited to get settled in and get our own routine.
The cabin is really cute, and J. can play outside and maybe I can get a hammock to put up in the trees. I want to plant some flowers, and there's a blackberry bush out front. The country girl in me is happy. The city girl in me misses the convenience of the corner stores, atm machines, and transport.
Decision made about J's and my living situation: Within the next couple of weeks we'll be moving our stuff out of Torre Fuerte (the house in the city) up to La Cabaña, a small house further up the mountain on the ministry farm. It's tiring not having all of our belongings in one space, and I'm excited to get settled in and get our own routine.
The cabin is really cute, and J. can play outside and maybe I can get a hammock to put up in the trees. I want to plant some flowers, and there's a blackberry bush out front. The country girl in me is happy. The city girl in me misses the convenience of the corner stores, atm machines, and transport.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tonight I got to ride a bike. It's my day off, and J is up at the farm while I'm in the city. It hasn't been a very restful day, because I've been running errands and keeping appointments all over the city, but it's still nice to have time to do something different.
At my church there was a presentation by the group who went to Asuncion, Paraguay for the World Mennonite Conference. Many of them went by bus from Bogota to Asuncion, and a bit further, to Buenos Aires. Check out a map to see the distance covered -- it's impressive! I really enjoyed seeing their pictures and hearing a bit about the trip and the conference, especially when they showed photos from Peru, where I've been. I also (knowingly) made the bad decision to drink a little cup of coffee, so I hope I can still get to sleep early!
So, I'm going to this mennonite church, which doesn't mean amish or anything like that. It means that they're supporters of equality in the church, between gender, age, education, wealth; that they're against violence; and in the case of this congregation at least, that they're very involved in social justice and community work. Mennonites are Anabaptists, which I recently learned comes from the time of the reformation, when they "re-baptised" each other (having been baptised as children the first time).
I like the church. It is smallish, has a family feel, has things I can help with (if and when I have time), is involved in the community and cares deeply for social justice in Colombia and globally. In fact, often in the past I've felt more on the pushing-edge in this regard, but this congregation challenges and pushes me more: in other words, I have room to grow in my part of "ushering in the Kingdom of God", and this church can help me in that growth.
But I wish I could fit into a category of some sort. I grew up Baptist, went to a non-denominational church for a while, then a Presbyterian church, and now a Mennonite church. There are things I like about all of the churches I've been a part of, and things I've questioned as well. It would be a lot easier to be able to say that I am 100% on board with everything; in other words, to fit in. (Or what seems to me to be fitting in.)
I know that it doesn't really matter and that, in fact, I don't LIKE labels that completely identify a person, but I sometimes feel like I have a big secret in not being mennonite, or in not knowing my stance on non-violence.
Anyways, those are just some thoughts, but the ride home on a bike borrowed from a friend was nice.
Things are going really well at the farm, even though it's still hard to get up so early on days we have to come down to the city with the ministry bus, and it's cold, and the hot water heater is broken in Kiwi House (where we are currently).
At my church there was a presentation by the group who went to Asuncion, Paraguay for the World Mennonite Conference. Many of them went by bus from Bogota to Asuncion, and a bit further, to Buenos Aires. Check out a map to see the distance covered -- it's impressive! I really enjoyed seeing their pictures and hearing a bit about the trip and the conference, especially when they showed photos from Peru, where I've been. I also (knowingly) made the bad decision to drink a little cup of coffee, so I hope I can still get to sleep early!
So, I'm going to this mennonite church, which doesn't mean amish or anything like that. It means that they're supporters of equality in the church, between gender, age, education, wealth; that they're against violence; and in the case of this congregation at least, that they're very involved in social justice and community work. Mennonites are Anabaptists, which I recently learned comes from the time of the reformation, when they "re-baptised" each other (having been baptised as children the first time).
I like the church. It is smallish, has a family feel, has things I can help with (if and when I have time), is involved in the community and cares deeply for social justice in Colombia and globally. In fact, often in the past I've felt more on the pushing-edge in this regard, but this congregation challenges and pushes me more: in other words, I have room to grow in my part of "ushering in the Kingdom of God", and this church can help me in that growth.
But I wish I could fit into a category of some sort. I grew up Baptist, went to a non-denominational church for a while, then a Presbyterian church, and now a Mennonite church. There are things I like about all of the churches I've been a part of, and things I've questioned as well. It would be a lot easier to be able to say that I am 100% on board with everything; in other words, to fit in. (Or what seems to me to be fitting in.)
I know that it doesn't really matter and that, in fact, I don't LIKE labels that completely identify a person, but I sometimes feel like I have a big secret in not being mennonite, or in not knowing my stance on non-violence.
Anyways, those are just some thoughts, but the ride home on a bike borrowed from a friend was nice.
Things are going really well at the farm, even though it's still hard to get up so early on days we have to come down to the city with the ministry bus, and it's cold, and the hot water heater is broken in Kiwi House (where we are currently).
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