It's 2:45 am Spain time, and I'm not awake because I was out partying up at some grand fiesta. Quite the opposite really. My insomnia is certainly caused by my 11:30 pm coffee drinking due to the need to cease my brief period of productivity, and is also definitely induced by my racing mind that absolutely refuses to quit tackling all of the issues of life...at 2:45 am.
However, this restless mind of mine has made itself quite cozy in my sleep routine lately. Like any normal person, this happens to me regularly. But usually my mind is filled with to-do lists and is reviewing the events of the day. For the last couple of nights this hasn't been the case though. It's down to the wire in Spain, 16 days to be exact, and all sorts of new reflections are constantly entering my mind screaming, "Hi, hey, analyze me to no avail!" So I do, and here I am during the wee hours of the morning doing so.
Over the last four months these sometimes pesky, reoccurring reflective thoughts have consisted of varying themes. Everything from my relationship with Christ, to love, to what love means, to why I'm here, to why do I have no self-control with food (that's an all-the-time thing), to jobs, to time management, to what am I doing with my life, to family, to friends, to what's causing the weird rash on my legs, to church, to finances, to why do I often miss my dog more than people, to why do I still worry with God on my side, to why do I have the attention span of a gnat, to how I can better serve others in my life, to why has Spain made my face an oil rig and my hair feel like straw, to anything else completely random and ridiculous yet relevant. Almost every single one of these things run through my mind at least once a day. However, tonight my racing mind focused one principal theme, fear.
As I laid in my little, Spanish bed, it really struck me how much fear I harbor inside of me without ever really admitting it to myself. One of my most prominent fears, and one of my biggest pride-busters, is that I've realized that I'm scared of growing up.
I'm 21 years old, and ever since I can remember I've been very independent and as years have passed pretty darn responsible. Frankly, I can't recall a time where I didn't feel like at least somewhat of an adult, and I've embraced that. After coming to that realization, I concluded that my fear doesn't stem from the greater responsibilities that lay ahead, nor not depending on others. It is founded in my fear of an independent identity. Instead of a self that is almost solely defined by the likes of those around me, the opinions they hold, and a past that's often defined me, I have a kind of yearning for an identity that is self-expressive, a mind that has formed opinions and beliefs of its own, and sense of self that isn't petrified of the opinions that loved ones or strangers cast upon it. It's something that does holds close to some aspects of who I am, but is shaped by and created new by God's transforming love and grace. Creating and discovering this sense of self that is a life-long process and is never complete. However, I don't want to miss out on the adventure simply because I'm fearful of what others think.
And after all of this runs through my now exhausted mind, I still finally feel like I'm ready let go until I realize that there is another hindrance...This is is almost cliche fear of my choices.
This fear to the average Joe is known as making mistakes. For the optimistic, it's a new learning opportunity. And to the perfectionists it's known as the screwing-up-my-life-forever-and-nothing-will-ever-be-okay-ever-again.. It's double jeopardy and you have thirty seconds to guess which category I fall into. What is perfectionists, Alex. Correct!
Like I said before, I'm 21-years-young, the so-called peak of life. Unless you have the fear of a two-year-old and the thought process of the parent of the two-year-old. I rarely do anything that would seem to be the norm for a 21-year-old. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a complete snore. I have this desire to be spontaneous and to build a life that isn't so everyday. However, I have the fear of screwing everything up. The fear that if I take some sort of chance or chase some crazy dream, big or small, that my world will come crashing down. That my bank account will be empty, an angry mob will be outside of my apartment with pitchforks, and that the apocalypse will officially commence. It's a little bit like Chicken Little, just a little. And what's been racing through my mind these past few nights is the question of why I put myself through this. I live this life once. Why should I rob myself of meeting as many people as possible, learning as much as I can, and finding enjoyment in the unlikeliest of places. It finally struck me when it comes to taking these chances, the only truly detrimental possible outcomes are A) not doing it or B) regret.
Now this doesn't mean that I'm going to throw responsibility and common sense out the window and let live my life by the seat of my pants. But it does mean that I've really began to see how fleeting life is. It's something you hear for your entire life, but oftentimes don't listen to until it's too late. I want to be able to look back on my life and be able to say, I was who I am, I gave it all that I got, and I lived it to the best that I could.
And now that all of this is off my chest and now on paper, well kind of, it's time for me to go back to my little Spanish bed and pray about where to start and to dream of what can happen when I listen and follow.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
7,006,102,713 Faces and An Infinite Number of Prayers
7,006,102,713...the population of the world on April 10, 2012.
703,021...the population of Sevilla, Spain (my current location) as of 2011.
83,393...the population of Asheville, North Carolina (my hometown) according to the 2010 census.
As I was walking through the streets of Sevilla today, here's what I realized, God personally knows every single one of us. Every one. He knows the little old lady I saw sitting by the river in her wheelchair, the smiling momma on the street who's chasing after her giggly little boy, the wife and husband holding hands walking across the bridge, and even the little unborn baby that's still developing in its momma's pink t-shirt covered belly. And not only does He know all these peoples' names, He knows their past, their future, and the absolute deepest desires of their hearts.
I would dare say that at some point in their lives, quite a few people have read or heard the following verse, Luke 12:7:
"But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more
value than many sparrows."
Personally, I know that I've read this verse a number of times because it continuously amazes me that He loves me and values me. However, the magnitude of this verse has never really struck me. Not only does God know everything about me, but, like I said, He knows everything about everyone.
What's more is not only does He hear my prayers, He listens to them. He knows all of my desires and my needs without me even asking. Not only is this true for me, but all of His children. And even though He already knows all of this He still wants us to ask. It astounds me. Ask anyone who knows me, I get lost and lose focus listening to one person, and with two, pshhh, forget it. Then I think about how many languages people are praying these prayers in. I struggle to speak English, let alone Spanish. But He knows and understands every single word no matter what language it's uttered in. I cannot even begin to imagine how that He doesn't get a migraine from listening to everyone all the time. But He doesn't. In fact, He loves listening and spending time with His children. And He wants us to do the same. He wants all 7,006,102,713 to know Him and love Him like He loves us. Talk about a big family.
This may not be a new concept to many people, but really placing value on it and thinking about its truth probably is. Next time you're walking down the street, notice the people around you. Look at their faces and recognize them as individuals, each with a story and each with different needs, and He knows all of them. It becomes a little overwhelming when you begin to realize how many people you come in contact with within just a few minutes not to mention imagining how many people are breathing and living all over the world. Yet, despite that He knows every one of the 7,006,102,713 faces and listens to an infinite number of prayers, He wants to know you and listen to you and love you, regardless of who you are and what you've done. He already knows all about it and His mind hasn't changed nor will it ever. Now that's something wonderful.
703,021...the population of Sevilla, Spain (my current location) as of 2011.
83,393...the population of Asheville, North Carolina (my hometown) according to the 2010 census.
As I was walking through the streets of Sevilla today, here's what I realized, God personally knows every single one of us. Every one. He knows the little old lady I saw sitting by the river in her wheelchair, the smiling momma on the street who's chasing after her giggly little boy, the wife and husband holding hands walking across the bridge, and even the little unborn baby that's still developing in its momma's pink t-shirt covered belly. And not only does He know all these peoples' names, He knows their past, their future, and the absolute deepest desires of their hearts.
I would dare say that at some point in their lives, quite a few people have read or heard the following verse, Luke 12:7:
"But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more
value than many sparrows."
Personally, I know that I've read this verse a number of times because it continuously amazes me that He loves me and values me. However, the magnitude of this verse has never really struck me. Not only does God know everything about me, but, like I said, He knows everything about everyone.
| |||
What's more is not only does He hear my prayers, He listens to them. He knows all of my desires and my needs without me even asking. Not only is this true for me, but all of His children. And even though He already knows all of this He still wants us to ask. It astounds me. Ask anyone who knows me, I get lost and lose focus listening to one person, and with two, pshhh, forget it. Then I think about how many languages people are praying these prayers in. I struggle to speak English, let alone Spanish. But He knows and understands every single word no matter what language it's uttered in. I cannot even begin to imagine how that He doesn't get a migraine from listening to everyone all the time. But He doesn't. In fact, He loves listening and spending time with His children. And He wants us to do the same. He wants all 7,006,102,713 to know Him and love Him like He loves us. Talk about a big family.
This may not be a new concept to many people, but really placing value on it and thinking about its truth probably is. Next time you're walking down the street, notice the people around you. Look at their faces and recognize them as individuals, each with a story and each with different needs, and He knows all of them. It becomes a little overwhelming when you begin to realize how many people you come in contact with within just a few minutes not to mention imagining how many people are breathing and living all over the world. Yet, despite that He knows every one of the 7,006,102,713 faces and listens to an infinite number of prayers, He wants to know you and listen to you and love you, regardless of who you are and what you've done. He already knows all about it and His mind hasn't changed nor will it ever. Now that's something wonderful.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Grow from the Changes, Embrace the Push
To say the least, the past year of my life has been, well, a doozie, a roller coaster ride, and a chaotic twelve months full of events that I never could have imagined taking place. The only aspect that all of these occurrences have had in common is that they were completely unexpected. I've never exactly led a normal life, and that's something I've come to appreciate...most of the time. However, for the past few years my life has been fairly comfortable. It was mostly the same, nothing too crazy. Now understand this, of course my life changed regardless of how same-ol' same-ol' it seemed to me. Life is ever-changing even if sometimes those changes aren't acknowledged except in retrospect. And although I could ramble on, like usual, about the dozens of turn-my-world-upside-down changes that have transpired, there is one that is the key to understanding them all...grow from the changes, embrace the push.
Most of the time I tend to be a creature of habit. Therefore, I often cringe at the thought of something that would disturb my oh so exciting routine. However, over the last year, my relationship with God has been transformed in so many ways. Most importantly, my faith and trust in Him and His plans has grown exponentially. I've learned to listen more closely, and to follow more often. As a result, the whole idea of being a creature of habit has more or less become obsolete. I've learned that as I listen and follow His whispers, or often in my case strong pushes (He knows I'm a stubborn young lady), that my life is constantly changing. That's not to say that I'm now leading the life of a lady version of James Bond, but I certainly have a new take on life--grow from the unexpected changes.
As a result of all this, my eyes are now more open to see, my ears more willing to hear, and my mouth slower to speak. What's more, is that this is now become my daily walk. As a result of the growth of our relationship, God uses people on the street to open my mind's eye and perhaps a song, a sermon, or a few seemingly ordinary words to lead me on His path. Is this always an easy walk? Far from it. In fact, lately it has taken quite a toll on me as I'm wandering continuing to seek His will. And that's how this ties into my journey in Spain.
I initially believe that the doors were opened for me to spend my four months in Sevilla in order to improve my Spanish, expand my understanding of other cultures, and possibly experience some sort of personal growth and such. Basically, I held the belief that the consequences of this adventure would be the ones that everyone told me about prior to my venture across the ocean. Yeah, not exactly what's happening. My Spanish has improved some and my cross-cultural appreciation has deepened. However, the personal growth part has turned out to be far more that what I bargained for. Every day I'm faced with new outlooks or issues, for a lack of a better word, to ponder and pray about. It's not very often that anyone is able to completely outside of their normal life for an extended period of time. You realize the unnecessary burdens that you continue to carry, you realize how constantly He is working in your life, how His plan is best, and most importantly you realize how weak yet strong your faith is when it's just God, you, and the love and mercy that He constantly gives you.
There have been times where I've been questioning why everything keeps redirecting my life right when I feel like everything has finally come together. But then I remember that He knows His plans for me and my duty is to follow and serve Him in all that I do. There is no doubt that I have not listened perfectly nor have acted upon many decisions in the way that He would have me to due to impatience amongst all the other faults that result from the fact that I am human. But through all this I have to remember what He tells us in Romans 8:28, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." That's what I've come to hang onto as He works in my life each day, I trust that He knows what He's doing and that where He's leading me and how He's pushing me will ultimately work for His glory so long as I follow, trust, and love Him just as He's loved me.
Most of the time I tend to be a creature of habit. Therefore, I often cringe at the thought of something that would disturb my oh so exciting routine. However, over the last year, my relationship with God has been transformed in so many ways. Most importantly, my faith and trust in Him and His plans has grown exponentially. I've learned to listen more closely, and to follow more often. As a result, the whole idea of being a creature of habit has more or less become obsolete. I've learned that as I listen and follow His whispers, or often in my case strong pushes (He knows I'm a stubborn young lady), that my life is constantly changing. That's not to say that I'm now leading the life of a lady version of James Bond, but I certainly have a new take on life--grow from the unexpected changes.
As a result of all this, my eyes are now more open to see, my ears more willing to hear, and my mouth slower to speak. What's more, is that this is now become my daily walk. As a result of the growth of our relationship, God uses people on the street to open my mind's eye and perhaps a song, a sermon, or a few seemingly ordinary words to lead me on His path. Is this always an easy walk? Far from it. In fact, lately it has taken quite a toll on me as I'm wandering continuing to seek His will. And that's how this ties into my journey in Spain.
I initially believe that the doors were opened for me to spend my four months in Sevilla in order to improve my Spanish, expand my understanding of other cultures, and possibly experience some sort of personal growth and such. Basically, I held the belief that the consequences of this adventure would be the ones that everyone told me about prior to my venture across the ocean. Yeah, not exactly what's happening. My Spanish has improved some and my cross-cultural appreciation has deepened. However, the personal growth part has turned out to be far more that what I bargained for. Every day I'm faced with new outlooks or issues, for a lack of a better word, to ponder and pray about. It's not very often that anyone is able to completely outside of their normal life for an extended period of time. You realize the unnecessary burdens that you continue to carry, you realize how constantly He is working in your life, how His plan is best, and most importantly you realize how weak yet strong your faith is when it's just God, you, and the love and mercy that He constantly gives you.
There have been times where I've been questioning why everything keeps redirecting my life right when I feel like everything has finally come together. But then I remember that He knows His plans for me and my duty is to follow and serve Him in all that I do. There is no doubt that I have not listened perfectly nor have acted upon many decisions in the way that He would have me to due to impatience amongst all the other faults that result from the fact that I am human. But through all this I have to remember what He tells us in Romans 8:28, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." That's what I've come to hang onto as He works in my life each day, I trust that He knows what He's doing and that where He's leading me and how He's pushing me will ultimately work for His glory so long as I follow, trust, and love Him just as He's loved me.
Friday, March 9, 2012
A Week in Rome, a New Outlook, and a Lesson to Expect the Unexpected
So it's been almost a month since my last post. I would love to contribute it to going on a million awesome adventures. However, in reality, mid-terms and my incredible loss of time management skills are solely to blame. Regardless of what pesky issues are to blame, I'm finally here to give everyone a little insight as to what's been taking place in my overly-exciting life during the past few weeks.
On February 23rd, Danielle, Hallie, and I all boarded on a plane, with our itty-bitty bags (thanks Ryanair) and set off on our adventure in Rome, Italy. The only way to describe this trip was a God-sent. The timing, the weather, all the glutenous food, absolutely everything was exactly what all three of us needed to relieve some of the tension we had all developed during our first five weeks in Sevilla.
I have to say that I'm extremely proud of how much we accomplished during our five-day stay in Roma. We saw the Colosseum, the Pantheon, and the Roman Ruins. Not to mention St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican, and the Sistine Chapel. Oh, did I mention that we got to see the Pope and hear him speak? No big deal or anything. Who am I kidding...that was incredible! More impressively we managed to conquer basically every Italian food that we wanted to try as well as downing a minimum of three scoops of gelato a day. All I have to say is that I don't know if TCBY will ever quench my ice cream hankering ever again.
Aside from all the memories that we created during our adventure, I'd have to say that the most valuable souvenir that we took away from our Italian escapade was that we returned to Spain with a lessened dislike for it. All three of us agreed that we developed more of an appreciation for the opportunity that we had been given. I mean, really, how many twenty-somethings get to live in Europe for four months? Although it pained us to leave the delectable Nutella-filled croissants and café lattes that we devoured each morning, we returned to Spain refreshed. We were a lot more thankful to be in Spain. Granted probably 90% of this thankfulness stemmed from the fact that our Sevillan showers allow us to actually move while we bathe, thus allowing us not to look like a Snuffaluffagus. Regardless, that other 10% is what has made me almost enjoy being in Spain. And now that I'm almost half-way through my stay here, that's pretty darn important.
If you're already tired of reading, I suggest the following: A) get a cup of coffee or tea - or- B) coming to read this second half later. Obviously my procrastination problems have worsened during my stay abroad. Therefore, if I do not blog about this now, it may not be documented until halfway through July. Ready? Now to proceed to "A Lesson to Expect the Unexpected."
So hopefully some of you reading this read my previous blog entitled "Speechless." If not, please do so as it helps save me from being repetitive.
Some of you may know this, some may not, but before I left for Spain I was really wanting to find mission opportunities to take advantage of since I saw it as an usual opportunity. However, my searches didn't really turn up anything. So, I just continued to pray. I knew that God had a reason for giving me this opportunity that went far beyond just learning Spanish and getting to say that I'd been to Europe. This is where "Speechless" comes in; it was the beginning of at least the partial revealing of His reasoning.
During these past two months I've come to notice homeless people more and more. Normally I'm completely guilty of just passing by because even though I feel the need to help, I figure I'm just feeding an addiction. I hate admitting that, but it's completely true. However, that has changed since my encounter with the man on the street from "Speechless." I see these people with more open eyes, mind, and heart. And although I can't save the world or give every person I see what I'd like to give them, I can use what I have to help. So, I've started making "Blessing Bags.". It's something simple to make and easy to keep in your car, purse, whatever. You can just fill it with a few essentials and then you're able to give it to someone who needs help while knowing that you're providing something useful to them. I found the idea on Pintrest, and I think it's a great idea that I'd like to share with all of my family and friends.
Okay, well you're probably sitting there thinking, "Well, that's great and all, but I don't see why this is so life changing." Because I'm finally listening. I came here searching for some grand mission trip or massive opportunity, and that's what I expected to find. But anyone who's known me for very long can figure out that I tend to be a stubborn person. I prefer to call it a personal drive, but sometimes it hinders me from being open to new opportunities because when I want to do something, that's it. Here's the deeper issue, I'm human. And all too often my plans may not correspond with God's. For many years I've been scared to listen to Him. I don't like change and I knew that change is what He would bring. That changed this summer and ever since my prayer every night includes something to the effect of, "Father, whop me upside the head when I don't listen. Give me your eyes and ears. Make me listen so that Your will may be done. Really though, I mean it. Smack me in the face." And He has.
I could go on and on about all the changes He's made in me and in my life. But He's only given us a 24-hour day, so I'll try to keep it short. During the past few weeks, He's been reminding me of all these passions that He's given me. Some of these passions include children, teaching, languages, and helping others. Hence the fact that I'm studying to be a teacher. However, I've never felt like I was going to have a conventional career. I don't believe that I'll be one of the amazingly, fantastic teachers who have taught for thirty years. I whole-heartedly hold strong to the belief that He's using my time here to start pulling these passions together, little-by-little, in order to begin showing me where He wants me to go. And that is not at all what I expected to get from my time away from home. Yet having His will revealed and growing stronger in my relationship with Him is the most important aspect of my trip. Yes, I strive to meet this goal everyday no matter where I am. But it's amazing the ways that God works in you when He's literally your everything. When you don't have your home, your family, or your friends nearby. You finally fully and completely lean on Him. And that, well, that is the most awesome, beautiful, incredible, astounding gift that He could have blessed me with here--a new understanding and growth in my relationship with my Saviour, my Counselor, and my Best Friend--Jesus Christ.
On February 23rd, Danielle, Hallie, and I all boarded on a plane, with our itty-bitty bags (thanks Ryanair) and set off on our adventure in Rome, Italy. The only way to describe this trip was a God-sent. The timing, the weather, all the glutenous food, absolutely everything was exactly what all three of us needed to relieve some of the tension we had all developed during our first five weeks in Sevilla.
I have to say that I'm extremely proud of how much we accomplished during our five-day stay in Roma. We saw the Colosseum, the Pantheon, and the Roman Ruins. Not to mention St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican, and the Sistine Chapel. Oh, did I mention that we got to see the Pope and hear him speak? No big deal or anything. Who am I kidding...that was incredible! More impressively we managed to conquer basically every Italian food that we wanted to try as well as downing a minimum of three scoops of gelato a day. All I have to say is that I don't know if TCBY will ever quench my ice cream hankering ever again.
Aside from all the memories that we created during our adventure, I'd have to say that the most valuable souvenir that we took away from our Italian escapade was that we returned to Spain with a lessened dislike for it. All three of us agreed that we developed more of an appreciation for the opportunity that we had been given. I mean, really, how many twenty-somethings get to live in Europe for four months? Although it pained us to leave the delectable Nutella-filled croissants and café lattes that we devoured each morning, we returned to Spain refreshed. We were a lot more thankful to be in Spain. Granted probably 90% of this thankfulness stemmed from the fact that our Sevillan showers allow us to actually move while we bathe, thus allowing us not to look like a Snuffaluffagus. Regardless, that other 10% is what has made me almost enjoy being in Spain. And now that I'm almost half-way through my stay here, that's pretty darn important.
If you're already tired of reading, I suggest the following: A) get a cup of coffee or tea - or- B) coming to read this second half later. Obviously my procrastination problems have worsened during my stay abroad. Therefore, if I do not blog about this now, it may not be documented until halfway through July. Ready? Now to proceed to "A Lesson to Expect the Unexpected."
So hopefully some of you reading this read my previous blog entitled "Speechless." If not, please do so as it helps save me from being repetitive.
Some of you may know this, some may not, but before I left for Spain I was really wanting to find mission opportunities to take advantage of since I saw it as an usual opportunity. However, my searches didn't really turn up anything. So, I just continued to pray. I knew that God had a reason for giving me this opportunity that went far beyond just learning Spanish and getting to say that I'd been to Europe. This is where "Speechless" comes in; it was the beginning of at least the partial revealing of His reasoning.
During these past two months I've come to notice homeless people more and more. Normally I'm completely guilty of just passing by because even though I feel the need to help, I figure I'm just feeding an addiction. I hate admitting that, but it's completely true. However, that has changed since my encounter with the man on the street from "Speechless." I see these people with more open eyes, mind, and heart. And although I can't save the world or give every person I see what I'd like to give them, I can use what I have to help. So, I've started making "Blessing Bags.". It's something simple to make and easy to keep in your car, purse, whatever. You can just fill it with a few essentials and then you're able to give it to someone who needs help while knowing that you're providing something useful to them. I found the idea on Pintrest, and I think it's a great idea that I'd like to share with all of my family and friends.Okay, well you're probably sitting there thinking, "Well, that's great and all, but I don't see why this is so life changing." Because I'm finally listening. I came here searching for some grand mission trip or massive opportunity, and that's what I expected to find. But anyone who's known me for very long can figure out that I tend to be a stubborn person. I prefer to call it a personal drive, but sometimes it hinders me from being open to new opportunities because when I want to do something, that's it. Here's the deeper issue, I'm human. And all too often my plans may not correspond with God's. For many years I've been scared to listen to Him. I don't like change and I knew that change is what He would bring. That changed this summer and ever since my prayer every night includes something to the effect of, "Father, whop me upside the head when I don't listen. Give me your eyes and ears. Make me listen so that Your will may be done. Really though, I mean it. Smack me in the face." And He has.
I could go on and on about all the changes He's made in me and in my life. But He's only given us a 24-hour day, so I'll try to keep it short. During the past few weeks, He's been reminding me of all these passions that He's given me. Some of these passions include children, teaching, languages, and helping others. Hence the fact that I'm studying to be a teacher. However, I've never felt like I was going to have a conventional career. I don't believe that I'll be one of the amazingly, fantastic teachers who have taught for thirty years. I whole-heartedly hold strong to the belief that He's using my time here to start pulling these passions together, little-by-little, in order to begin showing me where He wants me to go. And that is not at all what I expected to get from my time away from home. Yet having His will revealed and growing stronger in my relationship with Him is the most important aspect of my trip. Yes, I strive to meet this goal everyday no matter where I am. But it's amazing the ways that God works in you when He's literally your everything. When you don't have your home, your family, or your friends nearby. You finally fully and completely lean on Him. And that, well, that is the most awesome, beautiful, incredible, astounding gift that He could have blessed me with here--a new understanding and growth in my relationship with my Saviour, my Counselor, and my Best Friend--Jesus Christ.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Speechless
I titled this post "Speechless" because that is exactly what I am. For anyone who knows me, you know that this is not exactly a common occurrence. If anything it would do me some good to not always have something to say. Maybe that's why God took all the words out of my mouth this morning.
Today is Thursday, so I went to teach English to my little munchkins. For anyone who read my post about the munchkins last week, you'll remember that I mentioned a little boy with special needs. Today I found out that his name is Javier. Javier and I interacted some last week. I helped him cut out his pirate eye patch and just made some small talk with him. His is one of those incredible children who, although they cannot say very much, are able to make your day with their bright eyes and sweet smile that effortlessly light up an entire room. Well today Javier and I met again except for this time out on the playground.
I watched as the teacher, Natalia, brought Javier his walker. It took a lot of effort, but he was able to wriggle and twist his way off the ground to where he could hold himself up and walk just a little. He walks very slowly, so he lags behind all of his classmates. I decided to stay back and walk with him in order to keep him company.
I noticed something when I did this. There were two little girls, I believe their names are Cristina and Maria, who began starting at me intently. They were giving me that sort of confused intrigued look that silently speaks their thoughts of, "What is she doing?" So I decided to walk a little faster in order to catch up with the other five-year olds. I did this as sort of an experiment. I wanted to listen to what the niñas were saying and what they were going to do. To my pleasant surprise Maria grabbed Cristina's hand, started smiling, and led her friend over to Javier. The two girls then began to walk with him and happily chatted with him all the way. Javier's face absolutely lit up. So did mine.
Javier was led by one of the assistants to the elevator, and I went on my way to the classroom. The assistant arrived with Javier a few minutes later. I had already started my lesson and had forty-eight eyes and raised eyebrows looking at me in confusion as I explained what a sea horse is in English. I was interrupted by the assistant when he looked at Natalia and asked, "Who is Christina?" I raised my hand and told him that I'm Christina. He asked if I'd been here before. I replied by saying that this was my second week volunteering here. He made my day with his response. The assistant looked at me, smiling, and said, "You must have made quite an impression on Javier. He wouldn't stop talking about you for the past five minutes. He kept saying the Spanish equivalent to, 'Christina here. Christina here. Where Christina?' He must really like you." The assistant then walked off and got Javier settled into the classroom. I'm sure that I had an odd-looking smile on my face. I was elated and shocked all at the same time. I've always known that investing time and kindness into children sows some seeds with the utmost rewards. It's one of the biggest reasons I decided to become a teacher. And I've worked with children of all ages throughout my life. However, I've never made that fast of a positive impression on a child, at least not that I know of.
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| On almost every street corner... (Homeless man in Barcelona--Google Images) |
That lesson and experience put me on cloud nine for the day. However, just when I thought that God had taught me His lesson for the day, He proved me wrong. I was walking home from the school and I had stopped to just wander through some of the local shops. I noticed that I was getting really hungry, so I quickly began to walk home. Yet instead of taking my usual, direct route, I ended up turning down some street I've never been down for no apparent reason at all. I even thought to myself, "Why did you come this way? You're starving and it'll probably take you an extra 20 minutes to find your way back now." I continued walking down the street when I looked to my right and saw a homeless man sleeping. Like at home, this is a rather common occurrence. Normally I do the terrible thing and think of some lame excuse as to why not to help the person. It's usually along the lines of, "Oh, well their probably just looking for a handout to go feed some addiction." However, I do give every once in awhile when I really feel led to. This man looked the same as all the others. Dirty, tired, hungry, kind of sickly, with a shopping cart near by with his few belongings. But for some reason, he was different.
He stopped me right in my tracks without so much as a word or even a look. Yet I kept walking. I took about two steps and I felt something say, "Seriously, Christina? You want to help him you know that, so why don't you do it. This man is different. Look at him; he needs help." Oddly enough I looked right beside where I was I was standing...a grocery store. I went in and bought some bread and fruit. It was about all that they had, and I only had one Euro in my pocket to buy him food with. I wrapped up all the food and laid it beside him without saying a word. I've never, ever, in my life seen a person's eyes get so big and bright. It's like I'd handed him the whole world. That's the only exchange we had, a brief two-second, eye-to-eye, thank you.
I'm not a cryer. Never have been, never want to be. But for some reason I started bawling on the side of the street. If I wasn't getting enough stares due to my American attire, this helped to rack me up the ones that I was missing out on. It's like something had finally connected inside of me. That's about the only way that I know how to describe it. I know that to most of the world, I am the 1%, not the 99%. I have everything I need plus so much more. Just five minutes before passing this man I was contemplating going out later that day to buy more clothes that I definitely don't need just because I feel a little uncomfortable here. I was even thinking about how nice it would be to have some extra money to be able to go out for coffee and tapas because that's what it seems that the locals do here...spend, eat, spend.
From the time that you're a child you're taught to give to the less fortunate and help others. My mom always had my sister and I give our toys, clothes, and other unnecessary items to people who had less. We worked in soup kitchens, donated money, ect. However, I, like everyone else, forget how good I really do have it. Furthermore, I have failed to realize that this is a world-wide phenomenon. In 2005, there were 19,000 homeless people in Spain. This was prior to the economy's downfall. Since then unemployment has skyrocketed, and I mean skyrocketed to a 20% overall unemployment rate. To make it worse, there are few government funds allocated to help ease these people's burden. And the funds that are available are not nearly enough. Even for those with resources, this is an expensive country. I can't imagine what it's like for those who are truly struggling.
I did not plan on telling about my encounter with this gentleman let alone writing this short novel. I'm not a person who believes in displaying so called "Good Samaritan" moments. However, I felt compelled to do so this time for one reason, enlightenment. Not exactly political enlightenment or even to encourage everyone to go sell all their belongings and give all their money to people. No, that's not why. I'm doing this in order to share my enlightenment on the little lessons. Before i left to come to Spain, I knew that God had a purpose for allowing me to come. Everything lined up too easily for it not to be at His hand. I've been expecting some awesome, hallelujah chorus transformation or vision or something. That's not exactly what's been happening. Instead, He's teaching me little by little instead of just smacking me in the face like usual (that's what He has to do to the extremely stubborn, slightly air-headed people). He's opening my eyes just a little each day in situations and places that I never expect. Whether it's with Javier from my kindergarten classroom, taking me down a different street to meet a gentleman, or just making me appreciate even more what He's given me at home. God's teaching me far more than I ever expected He's just doing it "poco a poco" ... "little by little," which I'm learning can be far more powerful than I ever imagined.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
What I Miss and Enjoy the Most
The Things I Miss the Most
My family: Once again, saw this one coming right?
My furry child: Everyone here has cute little dogs which makes me miss mine that much more. Secondly, when you’re feeling down few things can make you feel better than your sweetest best friend crawling up in your bed next to you, giving you puppy “kisses,” and looking at you with eyes that say, “It’s all going to be alright.”
My church family: Oftentimes you don’t realize how much that support means until you’re so far away from it.
My bed: Oh. My. Gosh. Parentals, if you’re reading this I hear that FedEx is doing a special on shipping beds overseas. They’ll ship my dog in free if you just let them know that your sweet, loving daughter is homesick in Spain.
Oatmeal: Or just normal breakfast foods in general. I mean a piece of toast every day is great and all, but I have a little monster inside who gets angry when that’s all that it’s got to work with for the next six to seven hours.
Sweatpants and a Hoodie: It’s amazing how comforting big cotton pants can be. Yes, I have some track pants to sleep in; not the same. Everyone said, “Oh, you don’t need them. They take up space.” If anyone reading this is going to study abroad, don’t listen to those people. Bring your comfy clothes!
Dressing Normally: All I keep telling my parents is that I can’t wait to come home, put on jeans and a t-shirt, go to the grocery store, and not feel like people feel like I am on the top-ten list of worst people on earth. It gets tiring trying to figure out how to be a top-model when one, you don’t want to, and two when you have less than a dozen articles of clothing in your closet.
Grass and Dirt: Pavement, cobblestone, and more pavement and cobblestone. Yep, that’s pretty much what Spain consists of. Even the small parks only have a small grassy patch, but you don’t want to sit there because of the mountains of dog poop. I can’t wait to walk barefoot in a big grassy yard.
Work, UNCA, ect: So as crazy as my life is at home, I miss it. Yes, it is so nice to have a break with no job and far less homework. But, I oddly miss my job and almost all the gross homework at UNCA. I think it’s more that I miss knowing what I’m doing. At work, I know what I’m doing. At school, I do most of the time. I never thought I’d miss UNCA’s gym, the quad, the library, and getting to eat or drink in class. I feel like students would be much happier if they could bring their coffee or tea to class at nine in the morning, just an idea.
Running Without Stares: I run through the streets of Spain about every day here. Yes, there are a few other people who do the same, even Spaniards who do. But it’s like I decided to ride a big white elephant through the streets. There are a few reasons for this. One, most people here do not exercise because they walk everywhere. Secondly, because it’s odd for people in general to run through the street. Thirdly, it’s extremely odd for a woman to run through the streets. Lastly, I’m not wearing cold gear (it’s 50-60 something degrees here) and I’m wearing my “weird Asheville shoes” (thanks Lauren James). So with all that combined it’s actually like I’m riding a big white elephant naked through the streets while singing some Michael Jackson song at the top of my lungs.
Veggies, Meat, Non-carb Items: Trust me, I love carbs, and I mean I love them. But eating a loaf and a half of bread a day can make ya feel a little blah. However, when that’s one of the main parts of the culture, you just take what you’re given. Yes, we do get some vegetables. But I would kill for some spinach for my salad and some sauteed veggies. Oh, and don’t forget some grilled chicken to put on that salad. The food here is good, but you don’t realize how much you appreciate the freedom to choose what you eat until you don’t really have that anymore.
The Things that I’ve come to Enjoy in Spain
Walking: I walk everywhere minus the exception of taking the metro to school and a bus for a weekend day trip. I love to walk. I enjoy just putting on some tunes and enjoying the sunshine as I walk to wherever I need to go. What I like even more is that they give you time to walk to places. Time is exactly what prevents me from doing it in Asheville, so it is nice not to have to worry about that here.
The Siesta Hour: They say it’s an hour, but really it’s three to four. Does everyone here actually go home and take a nap? From what I’ve seen, not really. They go home to eat, and yes, actually enjoy lunch and to relax a little bit. Do all the Americans nap every day during this hour? Seems to be quite a few do, well, at least I do. As I’ve gotten older I’ve always wished that my kindergarten nap time would be reinstated. Ta da! It has. So I do take advantage of it. It’s a nice way to reboot and take on the rest of the day.
Taking Time to Eat: Everyone here makes sure to sit down and eat with the people they love. You will NOT see anyone walking down the street sipping a coffee or ripping apart a sandwich. That’s actually considered very rude. You go home or go to a restaurant and you sit down and eat with the people you love. I do a decent job of doing this at home, well, when I’m scarfing down some microwave chicken or something else disgusting during my five minutes in between finishing class and leaving for work.
Carbs, Carbs, Carbs: Okay, so I realize that this contradicts what was previously stated, but like I said, I love carbs. I love the fact that this culture does not put pressure on you to choose the wheat bread for your sandwich when you know that a grilled cheese really belongs a white bread and white bread only. As much as I’d like
to not have so much bread given to me, I’ve found the joy in it.
....: I’m not sure what this last one is yet. Yes, this list of what I enjoy is far shorter than what I miss. I’m going to be honest here and lay out the honest truth for anyone reading this. There are mountain of things in this culture that make me want to scream at every pretty much everyone. The study abroad representatives give every student who is going away a chart. It goes like this: honeymoon phase, annoyance, slowly climbing back up, being okay, annoyance, acceptance. I fully intend on telling them to re-write this chart. I haven’t had a honeymoon phase, maybe like a honeymoon hour. I’ve accepted the things that I really don’t like, but that does not mean that they still don’t make me want to yell half the time. Thus far this experience has taught me how much I love my life, family, and country in general. I’ve told my mom and my dad that I didn’t want to have to be honest when everyone asks me how my trip was and says, “Oh, you loved it didn’t you?!” No, I don’t. I want to go home, and I’m sure that I will continue to count down the days until my tush is on the plane that’s taking me back to the Good Ol’ US of A. That being said, I am learning which is what I’m here to do. I’m learning about myself, about another culture, and hopefully will learn a lot more Spanish than I have been. I didn’t sign up for a grand vacation, I signed up to learn. I know that when everything is said and done I’ll be able to look back and say, “Wow, I really learned a lot, grew, and changed,” because you never really learn what you’re made of until you’re forced to find your strength in God to stand up on your own two feet and see the beauty in what He’s given you.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
My First Day With the Munchkins
So regardless of the country, continent, whatever, I adore children. They are always so accepting, teach you when you least expect it, and usually squeeze a giggle or two out of every person that they meet. The same goes for the little ones in Spain. I'm currently volunteering for an hour each Thursday as a teacher assistant in a kindergarten classroom at a local private school. It's a good thirty minute walk from my house, and the entire way my imagination was a whirlwind of possible scenarios. I arrived and of course had no idea where I was supposed to be. The sad part is the teachers didn't either. However, they eventually figured out where my cooperating teacher was. She was on the playground, and I was taken there to meet her quickly before her class returned to the classroom where we would begin the children's English lesson.
You would've thought a giraffe or a Disney princess or something walked onto the playground. There were about forty children on that playground and every one of them stopped all of their games and looked at me. They acted like they didn't know what to think. All of the sudden there was a swarm, and I mean a swarm, of five-year olds tugging on me and all at once saying, "¿Cómo te llamas?" Which is Spanish for, "What is your name?" So of course I answered by stating my name. A few of them giggled, ran off, and whispered to their friends with the upmost excitement. Some of the others smiled and proceeded to say their name and ask if I was in their class. I even found one little girl, who had the most precious smile, who was so excited to find out that we had the same name. The teacher finally gathered about twenty five of the little ones up so that we could begin to venture towards the classroom.
There may have been less children in the classroom than on the playground, but it seemed as though the swarm of sticky children got bigger when we arrived in the classroom. They sounded like buzzing bees with all their questions. One little boy, named Mateo, found a pirate hook and started tugging on me and trying to wrestle me down to the ground. Oh, I forgot to mention that this was the same little boy who yelled at me, "Do you know you're ugly?" before we left the playground. I laughed but one of the little girls was about to start a smack down when he said that and responded back with, "Be quiet! She's pretty!" Anyhoo, the teacher had all the little ones sit down on the magic circle (apparently they exist in every culture) and asked them if they had any questions. Of course they all stare at her like little Bambis in the headlights, so she asks them to guess where I'm from. They all said Spain...then Africa....then they went blank again. One little boy piped up and said, "America!" I said yes and they all oooed and ahhhed. Then I spoke all of fifteen English words, which were instructions on our activity, and then it was all Spanish.
When it came time to leave, the teacher asked them to sit down and ask any questions they had or make any comments. Mateo ratted out Jaime and said, "He likes her A LOT!" Then he snickered and poor Jaime's face turned beet red. Then another five-year old asked if I had a job in the U.S. I of course responded yes, yes I do. And he politely told me to quit it and come work there because I was the best and nicest teacher ever.
Every time I'm in the classroom, my desire to teach is reinforced that much more. All of the children were very patient with me when I didn't understand them, and tried to teach me words like I taught them. They really are the best language teachers that anyone can have. But what amazes me even more than their cuteness and patience is how kind they are. One of the little boys has a few disabilities though I don't specifically know what they are. He's mentally challenged and cannot walk so he crawls. When it was that little boy's turn to say his name to me he was unable to understand the teacher or hold his head up high enough to really say it audibly. So the little boy next to him whispered the question and helped him hold up his head. Although the other little boy still did not say his name, his friend answered for him. Later another one of the students gladly helped the boy sit up at the table and asked the teacher to help get him settled so they could all enjoy doing the activity together because they were friends. I stood there amazed. These kids are five-years old and already their capacity to care and lack of discrimination is far beyond that of most adults. I can't wait to get to know each and every little Kool-Aid stained face and see what lessons they have in store for me in the months to come.
You would've thought a giraffe or a Disney princess or something walked onto the playground. There were about forty children on that playground and every one of them stopped all of their games and looked at me. They acted like they didn't know what to think. All of the sudden there was a swarm, and I mean a swarm, of five-year olds tugging on me and all at once saying, "¿Cómo te llamas?" Which is Spanish for, "What is your name?" So of course I answered by stating my name. A few of them giggled, ran off, and whispered to their friends with the upmost excitement. Some of the others smiled and proceeded to say their name and ask if I was in their class. I even found one little girl, who had the most precious smile, who was so excited to find out that we had the same name. The teacher finally gathered about twenty five of the little ones up so that we could begin to venture towards the classroom.
There may have been less children in the classroom than on the playground, but it seemed as though the swarm of sticky children got bigger when we arrived in the classroom. They sounded like buzzing bees with all their questions. One little boy, named Mateo, found a pirate hook and started tugging on me and trying to wrestle me down to the ground. Oh, I forgot to mention that this was the same little boy who yelled at me, "Do you know you're ugly?" before we left the playground. I laughed but one of the little girls was about to start a smack down when he said that and responded back with, "Be quiet! She's pretty!" Anyhoo, the teacher had all the little ones sit down on the magic circle (apparently they exist in every culture) and asked them if they had any questions. Of course they all stare at her like little Bambis in the headlights, so she asks them to guess where I'm from. They all said Spain...then Africa....then they went blank again. One little boy piped up and said, "America!" I said yes and they all oooed and ahhhed. Then I spoke all of fifteen English words, which were instructions on our activity, and then it was all Spanish.
When it came time to leave, the teacher asked them to sit down and ask any questions they had or make any comments. Mateo ratted out Jaime and said, "He likes her A LOT!" Then he snickered and poor Jaime's face turned beet red. Then another five-year old asked if I had a job in the U.S. I of course responded yes, yes I do. And he politely told me to quit it and come work there because I was the best and nicest teacher ever.
Every time I'm in the classroom, my desire to teach is reinforced that much more. All of the children were very patient with me when I didn't understand them, and tried to teach me words like I taught them. They really are the best language teachers that anyone can have. But what amazes me even more than their cuteness and patience is how kind they are. One of the little boys has a few disabilities though I don't specifically know what they are. He's mentally challenged and cannot walk so he crawls. When it was that little boy's turn to say his name to me he was unable to understand the teacher or hold his head up high enough to really say it audibly. So the little boy next to him whispered the question and helped him hold up his head. Although the other little boy still did not say his name, his friend answered for him. Later another one of the students gladly helped the boy sit up at the table and asked the teacher to help get him settled so they could all enjoy doing the activity together because they were friends. I stood there amazed. These kids are five-years old and already their capacity to care and lack of discrimination is far beyond that of most adults. I can't wait to get to know each and every little Kool-Aid stained face and see what lessons they have in store for me in the months to come.
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