Birthday! Good gifts...

Happy happy Joy joy

L-R whole group plus Jimmy

The girls - L-R, Morgan, Katie, Amanda, me, Candice, Ginger

The pictures have arrived
Hot tub at the end of a wonderful day

From my big brother yay

Joy on my chocolate and heart sprinkled bed

At the most wonderful hotel ever

Ginger and Joy in the taxi, stage one of the best Bday with my girls

Joy and Amanda yahoo

Joy and Ginger hooray

Ginger and Amanda in our beautiful hotel room

Before I get too chronologically messed up, I wanted to begin a blog about my birthday. Now, this isnt exactly her fault but Im still waiting on the MAIN pictures, which are on Gingers camera. Hopefully those are coming soon.

My 22nd Birthday was an extravaganza. Having Jimmy on this trip has many many advantages, not the least of which is doting attention and on-demand back-massage privileges.

I woke up the Monday before my Thursday Birthday this year to a huge yellow poster that said, "22 surprises for 22 years of life!" And that was the beginning...

1. Morning hug, 2. Scripture encouragement, 3. "What I like about Joy", 4. Starbucks! 5. A new dress! 6. Earrings to go with your new dress, 7. a necklace to go with your new dress! 8. New shoes! 9. Salad lunch 10. Serious conversation 11. Diet Coke! 12. Another new outfit! 13. Nail polish... the day included 22 such surprises, a day in the mall, trying on dresses, being adored and affirmed, and then culminated in a web-cam Skype home! It was the most amazing day! Can anyone believe how thoughtful and beautiful he is to me? These are big shoes to fill. I dont have adequate words to honor him as he deserves. He is truly loving. And there is no more Christlike character quality than that.

Soooo I think that was a fabulous Birthday and I am completely content.

But is it over? Oh no.

Wednesday afternoon I receive a card from Ginger that says, "your survival kit must include..." and a variety of items... including a bathingsuit, workout clothes, magazines-reading material, and overnight toiletries. So, puzzled to say the least, and a little bit sad about missing my family and having to work a double-day building a church in Lomo, I drink up my Coke Light and continue on with my day.

And then, the morning comes... and the first surprise of the day is beautiful Brienna with a venti latte from Starbucks! (and this certainly is a sacrifice because she HATES getting up early). Then Annie hands me a box of chocolates and tells me to enjoy them today...and instead of putting on work clothes and getting in a bus up to Lomo I pack my pink duffel and put on my Birthday dress as the girls pick me up and hail a cab. And we are off!

I have no idea where we are going but continual hints of mountains and tents scare me a bit... but I will have a good attitude.

And then...

We pull up in downtown Lima to Los Americanos. The doorman in a suit opens the door and takes my bag and I see 5 of the most beautiful gleaming shapes on the door... 5-Star hotel, baby. Carpet, hot water, TOWELS (how long has it been since Ive had a towel??), a kitchenette, real beds, SHEETS, a TV, curtains, glass windows, wood furniture (any furniture!), a COUCH...

They are so thoughtful. My bed is littered with chocolate, there is Coke Light chilling in the fridge. Our hotel is next to a gymnasium and I am on for a Pilates class the next morning. There is a sauna and hot tub on the roof. I am in heaven.

We spend the next 24 hours in complete and utter bliss. It is enjoyable, relaxing, and lovely. I feel God in these girls. They get me to a computer, they find a man to give me his cellphone so I can call my mom on my Birthday... every single wish I could ever have desired has been abundantly fulfilled... beyond my wildest dreams.

Amanda and Ginger are true friends. I almost cry when I think about the fact that they have only known me for a mere 4 months are willing to so extravagantly bless me, and so specifically to my desires. I am in awe.

And, what is more, I am in awe of God. He truly does give good gifts to his children.

Thank you to everyone who made this the most undeservedly fabulous 22nd Birthday ever!

Peru

Cusco, Peru! (Cusco-topia)

Can you believe I get to enjoy these experiences with my lovely brother? Im so happy!

On top of the world in Machu Pichu

My norms are coming.

Red Balloon

I wrote this monologue to perform at worship night.

One day I took my foot off the break. I wasn´t even thinking about it... it was almost a twitch that I just followed through with. I don´t have a history of irregular behavior. I don´t even do weird things. I´m abysmally normal - routine, same old life. Even the smells in my life are the same: the acrid burning of a crusty coffee pot, a squirt of my vanilla perfume, a walk by the gutter for a smell of wet trash and soggy diapers. Usually I walk so I smell a lot of gross things (Anywhere humans congregate we tend to pool our filth). But for some reason that day I drove. I have a car... an old Buick, dark green, thousands and thousands of miles. It bears scars of its not-so-gentle interactions with other cars. I tend to rear-end people. It´s like the movie "Crash": however hurtful or damaging, sometimes we become so desperate for human contact that we just have to (CRASH) in to each other. For some reason that doesn´t make me shy. I like to drive and I´m going to! I have no reason to be defensive about that! I mean, I really didn´t do anything... it´s more what I Didn´t do. Yeah, that´s probably a better way to put it: one day I didn´t push the brake (it´s amazing that such a small action could create this much trouble for me. I´m sure there´s some physical equation for the amount of force needed to keep a brake pedal down... and it varies for different vehicles. ANd maybe the amount of force needed changes. So, in all reality, owing to the age and state of repair my car is in, it could all have been a mistake, a misjudgment, an accident.)

I know it wasn´t an accident. But the fact that it could´ve been helps.

It wasn´t a unique day. The sky was white (I hate white skies). I was late to my job as a dental tech. It´s not the kind of job that one can be late for without retribution. Maybe I was avoiding the inevitable backlash of my irresponsibility. It´s not my fault, of course. I burned my hand on the iron first thing. Then I got shampoo in my eye. Then I couldn´t find my Friday scrubs... the ones with the little doggies on them. (I hate those scrubs. I don´t mean dislike. If I could find the half-blind, graphic-design freshman who created that pattern and drag him by his trendy glasses out of Starbucks and throw him in front of a bus, I would. It´s a hateful swirl of pastels picturing brown, floppy-eared dogs. Now there are splotches of reddish-brown. Crusty red splotches.) After that level of stress, it was almost hateful for me to go into public.

I just remembered that I forgot to brush my teeth. I work in a dentist´s office. There are a lot of strange ironies in my life. Like, for example, how my route will have to change forever because I made one little social gesture. Maybe that´s what it was: rebellion against the pointless laws that are created to standardize behavior and have the unfortunate byproduct of conformity and classes. Maybe a big red sign is a familiar object - even to little kids - but I saw it then as a statement, and one I didn´t want to heed. So, I didn´t. What´re the chances that some fit mom running with a double stroller would cross the intersection and be on the receiving end of my gesture? Does anybody else find that strange?

I can´t say it was an accident because maybe there are no accidents. Based on my day, I think it´s safe to say that the white-faced fates glared at me, showing their opinion in no uncertain terms.

Some people get awy with everything- literally! Stealing, lying, cheating, you name it: lives without consequences. Do you know that when I was little my luck was so poor that on my 9th birthday I lost my red balloon, got pushed into the mud in my new shoes, and ran out of cupcakes before my turn? Well, whose turn is it now to be unlucky? Haha.

I saw her. I did. And I didn´t want her red balloon to fly away, I wanted it to (POP). I had to hear it. That´s why I went back. I wanted to commiserate, really... to know that someone else felt the dead weight of loss. When I lost my red balloon, I watched it float away until it was only a red speck. There is something very uniting between humans about being unredeemable. We can´t be saved. None of us. We can´t save what slips through our fingers... like catching water.

I think it´s the little things that set me off the fastest... like that drip. Some fluid was leaking from my car. A leak. I went back for the pop and heard the drip. I can´t imagine that I would be blamed for escaping such a god-awful noise Nobody likes repetitive noises. EVerybody gets annoyed sometimes. I can hardly be blamed. Just a foot. That´s all I actually did; took my foot off the brake.

I do remember some curved metal. It couldn´t glint like metal should becaue of the sunless sky. I hate it for not glinting.

We were near grass and there was a bit of a splash: red on green. Red on green. Like a stoplight. Maybe if there had been a stoplight I would´ve stopped. All red, oen tiny squirmy body lay on the grass but didn´t cry. I kind of hated it for not crying. Maybe if it had drowned out that constant dripping I would´ve been okay, I would´ve stayed.

I don´t remember much then. It was an uneventful drive but I felt all wet. I cleaned myself up; my nose was bleeding. Sometimes I get nosebleeds. I remember in highschool I loved Bobby Brown - a classic cutie. One unfortunate day I rushed to Geometry trying to stop a nosebleed and who should I hit as I speed around the corner? Bobby, of course. And now he thinks I´m gross, no doubt. I hate nosebleeds. I´m hungry for breakfast.

But the blood keeps flowing.

I pull my hand away after touching my nose: red fingers. I look to the mirror and am surprised to see red flashes of light. What´s happening?

Click. Click. I can´t open my door - it´s stuck-... why are my fingers red!?! What? Wh-? Help! My hands!

I can´t hold my balloon!

Commentary:

Sometimes our hate is so toxic that we can only see ourselves as wronged, never wrong. We are too self-absorbed to see the nose on our own face, the reality right next to us. Open your eyes. That reality you´re romanticizing may just be your fault. And all you think you did was lift a foot.

Peru

I fear that this has degenerated into mere travelogue. But, for Mom, I will continue. I do not have the time nor the mental energy to exert creativity here... so I will just write the basic high points, travelogue y stuff. This is a new genre for me. Perhaps I could look at it as such.


Our host family here in Villa el Salvador! Juan, Estella and family. These are lovely people of God who were so kind, so generous... I am so grateful that they let 10 plus noisy gringos invade their home for 5 weeks. What an incredible blessing.

Juan Esteban. Every morning we wake up to hear him... talking in his own way... this picture is posed in case anyone wonders... but he certainly did have a lot of sugar at our going away fiesta! Did the little tyke in.

My lovely and beloved brother on the first day of Iglesia de Shalom in Lomo de Corvina... he is so popular! All the little boys run up to me saying, "donde es tu hermano? Donde es Jimey?".

On the christening day of the new church we built in Lomo de Corvina (through prayer, conversions, some discipleship, and actual construction). A very special day. In pastels. (L to R) Annie, Mary, Ginger, Morgan, me and down below is Rober.

Moto taxi! Or took took. A tiny, rickety little motorcycle with a steel tent of a body. 6 of us fit in one of these babies. And I cannot forget Camillo, our favorite moto taxi driver ever. I will miss you! Thank you for all of your hard work for us!

This is a typical view of Lomo de Corvina (backbone of the fish, I think it means)... lots of sand, hot and dusty dusty... little particle board houses. Some of them are quite nice with glass windows. Apparently the whole community burned down some years ago and they had to rebuild. It is fairly rural. The community has just recently petitioned government leaders (through a protest) to give them water and electricity, so we will see what comes of that. They live simply with lots of dogs and outdoor cooking and great big tubs (like an American garbage can) full of water. We built the first church in this area.

Peru 2

Some pics of my world here in Peru.

We are super-busy, pulling like 15 hour days... it's emotionally exhausting! But I'm not complaining because I can see good in it: we are doing what our host church asks us to do and that is good, plus I am being stretched in new ways to rely on God! It's somewhat of an introvert's nightmare but I can see that as good if I look at it thus: any opportunity I have to reach the end of myself (emotionally, physically, spiritually) is an opportunity for me to learn to rely on the Holy Spirit for virtue and grace. And that reliance is part of my life goal anyway! So I refuse to call it bad or complain. I am grateful for this season here in Peru!

Guatemala!

This is a picture of the orphanage/school I worked at. Every morning around 7:30 I walked about a mile beside the highway to "God's Child" - this project for underprivileged children. I got to help cook and clean up breakfast and sometimes lunch. These are the friends I worked with (from L-R), MaryAnn - a retired lawyer from N Dakota with liberal political views and a fabulous humanitarian mission; on the far right is Miriam - a girl in her early twenties from Sweden who has traveled pretty extensively in S. America working with orphanages, etc. We had so much fun working together. It took about an hour to cook and serve, about 2 hours to do dishes (three buckets, one for rinsing, one for washing with soap, and one with bleach water) for about 75-100 kids each day. We talked and joked. The main kitchen workers (full time) were Donya Mary and Donya Anna... they were lovely ladies! They laughed at me a lot and often Donya Mary would surprise me in the morning with a cup of coffee at my elbow. Hooray! One day I walked in late, unbelievably dishevelled from having practically run my morning route, with my shirt inside-out, wearing tennis shoes and a dress, and I think it may have been the funniest experience of their lives. They literally laughed for ten minutes. Moments like that were so precious... when, despite our language barriers and differences of religious thought, we could unite around the commonality of life... clothes and time and food... things that are innately human and that dignify all of us alike.

This is a view of Pedro Hermano, the hospital that I volunteered at with the Abuelitas (grandmas). Every afternoon I would take the cobblestone road after my cup of coffee, pin on my name badge, and walk through the narrow doors to the common area. It was an open roof with planted roses nearby and a fountain-like sink for washing. I would greet each of the abuelitas with a kiss and a "buenos tardes!" and then sit with them for a while... drawing, trying to speak Spanish, praying in my heart. At 4pm we fed them dinner. One of the things that struck me especially was the tenderness and joy of each of the nurses. At night, there is only one nurse for 26 ladies! During the day I think there are 4-6 nurses on duty. Those duties include everything from feeding, changing, washing, and medical attention. Truly overwhelming, right? But these women, of any I've ever seen working in that setting, had so much joy! They laughed and joked with the ladies; they had an amazing amount of patience and peace. That is beautiful.

This is a picture of Ginny, a YWAM missionary who was, that night, celebrating her one year anniversary in Guatemala. Twice she invited us over to her gorgeous roof-top apartment for dinner and fellowship... and when I say fellowship I really mean it. Ginny has an amazing heart for mentoring. I connected with her a lot, because I saw her as a godly older woman. She has certainly suffered but has run to her faith in God. She really studies the Word and seeks God every single day. Those things may sound cliche, but they are truly powerful for someone like Ginny whose heart is completely dedicated to the causes of the Kingdom. I can't honor her enough with my words. She is a woman of God.

I think that my cultural view of Guatemala wasn't nearly as extensive as my view of Mexico. We stayed mostly in the city of Antigua, which looks a lot like Europe. It feels a lot like Europe too. It's pretty multicultural with a lot of luxuries and "normal" elements (like a Burger King). We did do a few days out in livingston, a Caribbean town, where we saw some more cultural living. Anyways, my list is short but here are the Guatemala norms...

1. Bright, saturated colors as can be seen on the chicken bus above ("how many Guatemalans can you fit on a chicken bus?" Answer: ONE MORE!)

2. The most open-armed hospitality i've experienced yet... they loved to feed us.

3. Speaking of food: eggs, sausage, rice, chicken. And... that's about it. Sometimes we got potatoes but not often to my recollection. A typical meal was a chicken drumstick and rice.

4. Organization and polish. There was a whole different degree of personal grooming (people wearing hair-gel, makeup, nice clothes, heels, cologue/perfume) in Guatemala. There was also a professionalism about people's interactions that seemed unique from MX.

5. Dogs. I mean there were dogs in MX... but there are dogs here EVERYWHERE. Street dogs, city dogs, country dogs, mangy mangy gross dogs that seem to belong to no one and everyone.

6. People are a similar size here to MX but have vastly different facial features: larger ears and eyes, broader faces and smiles, wider faces and hands.

7. The currency here is quensalas, about 7 to the dollar. Centimos (sp?) is the change.

8. Language. From several accounts, Guatemala has the purest Spanish in C. America. Antigua is the Spanish-studying epicenter of the area.

9. Rocks and trees. Less dust and desert. More hills and greenery.

10. Intentional planting - people like decorating and landscaping.

11. Big guns. Guarding banks, walking down the street, doing processions... there was a proliferation of old-school, enormous guns.

12. The climate in February/March was cool, mid 70's probably, in the city and much warmer, mid 80's to 90's, in Livingston by the water.

Well, I by no means did justice to this fabulous country.

So far, this has been my fondest time on the World Race, probably due to the ministries I got to be involved with. I'm grateful for Guatemala. God bless it.

Poems

I'm swimming in happiness reading Salinger. Leah sent me, "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters" and "Seymour: an Introduction." I simply love the way he sees and treats life. He didn't seem uniquely happy (Seymour or Buddy, really) but was one of the truest poets I've ever read... in the most real sense of the term: he saw life in a poetic way. I think a poet probably must simply be one... and then jot something down every so often. I think that's why Mr. Holt told me that my most powerful form of writing was my "crazy note." Stream-of-consciousness is where art happens. We must practice and set up the parameters for expression, but one doesn't "learn" art as if it were a routine or habitable framework. The true artist glides and moves with fluidity and adaptibility, observing the minutae of life. Those who are skilled at expression are not, by default, artists; those who have an artistic soul may live lives of constant frustration for their ineptitude at expression. The artist truly engages - at the most basic level - in self-expression, because it is the fabric of being that equips someone to create.

Jimmy took this photo of Becca at the school.

Here are some recent poems. The first is not good but expressive, at least, of my current state of mind.

The Need to Live

I want to wrap my tongue

Around tumbling lyrics

And push air through my lungs

To belt out a strong note

I need to run sand through my fingers

And let rocks cut and graze my toes

Snuggle my face against an unshaven beard

Fall into pillowy and moist lips

I need to squeeze and pull weights

To punch and jump and kick in front of a mirror

I feel like twirling a baby, until I'm dizzy

And we both fall down onto scratchy carpet

To lay on a cold leather couch

And realize life is too exciting to sleep...

But to exhausting to not lie motionless

Sometimes

Sometimes I just need to live

Fully present in this body

And be kinistetic.

Worship in the temple.

The lady

With a dainty toe

And a calming hand

She glides on... presently.

I Sat

I sat while the bird flew

And tried to fly after him

Ruining the moment of flight.

I waited while you walked away

And tried to walk after you

And missed the gait.

I stood still while the ant worked

And tried to work with him

Ruining the industry of his work.

I meddled when I'd rather not

I halted where I shouldn't have stopped

And all this in the end

Is nothing less than pretending

I have more answers than I do.

I don't often know what to do.

And I'm sure that you feel that about me too.

Gust

The legs cross, one, two

While the toe fidgets mercilessly

Inciting unwanted action.

I don't claim to be much of a poet... but here are my attempts to see poetic dimensions in life. The last one is about Jimmy sitting beside me at Sbux.

Peru!

Flying over Lake Managua, Lima, Peru... the race... worship... prayer... Lomo de Corvina (a small town uphill where we're doing ministry stuff).

This is my new home.

Thoughts:

Exodus 33:12-18... "Is it not your going with us" that makes us distinct to the peoples of the world? Be with us, God. God is near to me.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The earth shall soon dissolve like snow/The sun forbear to shine/But God who called me here below/Will be forever mine." Chris Tomlin, "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)"

I love and miss you all. I need to do a Guatemala post. It will be out of order. Oh well.

The end of a deep breath

I feel like this weekend was a giant sigh... a giant, "it is what it is" (hi, Mom).
We went to the lake and it was amazingly relaxing. I missed my kids and my cooking and my abuellas but I did enjoy the brief break. For the first time in a while, I felt God. It was really windy everywhere, these pounding gusts of wind filled with dust. I went for a walk in the morning for a couple of hours, just being, no agenda. And he was with me. Can I even explain that to you? If you know what I mean, then you simply do. He was with me. The wind blew in gusts and whipped my hair and he was there; the flowers pulsated color in the balmy morning sun and he was there; the water sparkled and whitecapped in the wind and he was there; the bus driver almost hit me and we had a good laugh and he was there; Jimmy got off the boat, my heart leapt into my chest, my prayer was answered and he was SO there! I sat and I stood and I walked and I almost danced because my God was with me... there is no place on earth I´d rather be.

And now I´m back in Antigua and back to work for a brief time. I missed my friends and my abuelitas. My life is a joy here.
Today at the hospital I talked to my friend Nidia at length. (My Espanol must be mejor because I understood the vast majority of what she said.) She starts explaining her life to me... she is 25 years old, she has been sick for 15 years, in a wheelchair. People pity her because she can´t walk. She wants a boyfriend but they say she´s only a friend... because she can´t walk. People say she isn´t beautiful because she can´t walk. She kept saying that over and over again: I can´t walk, so people feel sorry for me, men feel sorry for me, they don´t want to be my esposa. And it felt like the end of a long breath: a tightness in my chest, nothing to draw in, a moment of inactivity, as I sat there and watched her eyes fill with tears.
I feel like she gave me a precious gift of self disclosure and I didn´t know what to do with it... so I stared at my shoes.

I usually know what to do. I know who I am and what I want and why I´m here. But for some reason, I´ve been unglued lately. Perhaps I´m simply more honest. Perhaps I´m disillusioned. I´m not upset by this... just silenced. I´m just quiet.

I don´t have answers for Nidia. I don´t know why God allowed her illness (which I think is cerebral palsy) or made her undesirable to men. And I also don´t know, as I look at her, what it would be like to be a 2 5 year old with little hope for marriage and a family, when that is the desire of her heart. I have no idea what that feels like... that door maybe closed forever.

I cried with her.
I cried for her.
I cried because I don´t get it
And I never will
And even though that´s okay
It´s cry-worthy.
I don´t regret it...
Don´t regret not preaching
Or explaining theology of suffering
Or walking away feeling that she was better armed to cope with her condition... because maybe she´s not and maybe I don´t make a difference in her life... but what I can do is be with her, just like God was with me. I walked beside her down the squeaky tile floor and went to the tienda and gave her a cold Pepsi in Jesus´name and I was there. And for now at least, that´s the best I can do.

Exhale slowly.