Kids say the darnedest things!

Last Friday I mentioned to my 6th and 7th graders that I wouldn't be teaching, next year. I think everybody had known that, if they'd stopped to think about it, but we hadn't really ever talked about it. Well, word spread to younger siblings and cousins, and several of my third graders asked about it yesterday. I confirmed that yes, I was planning to go back to the US, next year. They couldn't quite understand why I would leave, which struck me as ironic since the question is usually why I ever came in the first place! :) So today one of my sweet third graders colored me a good-bye picture (As a side note, this is not unusual. I probably average 2 pictures a day from my second and third graders. They're very sweet. The content of this one, though, is what makes it stand out.). It will definitely make the memory box because of it's hilarity. In total seriousness, Caro wrote, "Teacher Alisa: Behold! I am sending you as sheep among wolves. Therefore, be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Chao, Teacher Alisa. Love, Caro." Whatever was going through that precious girl's head I will never know.

Then 3 hours, later, I was with my 6th and 7th graders reviewing for our big exam. They were playing a game where one student sits facing the class, while another writes a vocabulary word or phrase on the white board above his head (where he can't see it, but the rest of the group can). His team, then, tries explaining the word or phrase (using English, of course) so that he can guess it. The phrase, at hand, was "for the rest of my life." They tried telling him it meant forever, to no avail. So they started describing a wedding ceremony, where the priest asks the bride and groom to commit their lives together 'til death do they part, at which point one of the smartest, funniest, most witty kids said, "It's a really long sentence!" When I first heard it, I thought he was describing marriage as enduring punishment, but then I realized he was just referring to the length of the phrase, itself! I just laughed and laughed and laughed (to myself, of course! : )

A Realized Goal

Guarani is both the name of the second language spoken in Paraguay, as well as the name of the indigenous people that at one time covered most of Paraguay, as well as parts of Brazil, Bolivia, and Argentina. It means "forest people." Today's Paraguayans are the descendants of Guarani women and Spanish conquistadores. This cultural heritage is very important to the Paraguayan people. In addition to Guarani being one of the 2 official languages, Paraguayans have an amazing understanding of the natural healing properties of plants. They call these plants "remedios" translated remedies, and put them in their terere or mate. Terere and mate are teas made from a type of holly leaf. The yerba leaf is steeped in hot water for mate, and iced water for terere. So, back to the remedios.

In the smallest of supermarkets, a large section is devoted to at least a dozen remedios. Some of these are added just for the taste, but others are used for the medicinal benefits. You can also buy them on various street corners where indigenous people bus into the city every day to sell their wares. They also come door to door in large baskets, and can even be bought in the terminals. Somebody sets him or herself up with yerba (the holly plant), and hot or cold water (depending on the season), dozens of different remedios, and a single cup or hollowed out bull's horn, with a special metal straw called a "bombilla" that has a filter on the end (so you don't suck up the yerba and remedios- you can only drink mate or terere through these straws). You just approach these vendors, pay them a mil, and get to choose which remedio you want! Then they make you up your very own mate or terere! You drink it, of course, using the cup and bombilla that they provide. When you're done, they rinse out your cup, rinse off your metal straw, and wait to loan them out to the next customer.

Part of me is awed by their use of the remedios. Until an hour ago, another part has always been a bit skeptical. For example, yerba is a known stimulant. One time I mentioned that I was having trouble sleeping and one my friends suggested that I add some remedio to my mate before bed (I don't remember what it was). This remedio was known to induce sleep. I was just a little confused, though, about the efficacy of adding a depressant to a stimulant… I kinda laughed about it, but she was completely serious. And this young woman is very sharp. It's not like the people who use remedios are just those who don't know better. The most professional of the professional use remedios. And really, who am I to think that scientists' Pepto Bismol is superior to something already existing in nature? I'm not willing to dismiss the remedios. So anyway, I'm pretty curious about these things, so lately I've started branching out and trying to use some of them, myself. Several weeks ago, I bought some "menta'i" that I've been sucking down all day with my terere. This morning I picked up my little bag of leaves and turned it over to see what ailments I'd been relieving. And this is what I discovered, "stomach settler, stimulant, tonic and antispasm, anxiety pain, vomiting, upper repertory/ chest problems, asthma, and boosts your appetite!" WHAT? It's been boosting my appetite? Wonderful. That has always been the express goal of my life. I'm so glad to know that it's finally been realized.

Mafia

OK. Really funny story. One of the first commandments for the missionary is to never criticize one’s host culture or government. So let me be clear that this isn’t a critique on the public’s perception of political transparency, but merely a funny story.

I taught my 6th and 7th graders to play Mafia, today. Have any of you played this game? Basically, the narrator deals out one card to each player, and the cards reveal if that person is one of two mafia, the town sheriff, or the town nurse. Throughout the game townspeople keep dying and it’s the town’s job to discover and sentence the mafia, while the mafia are trying to kill everybody off without being discovered. Wow. Describing it all, I’m feeling a little guilty for teaching the game, in the first place. But not too guilty. My kids REALLY got into it and had a ton of fun, not that that should have any bearing on its appropriateness, but still:). The humor highlight for me, though, was when one of the mafia (Diego) slipped the sheriff (Esteban) a mil (money), because Esteban had found him out, and Diego was hoping to keep him quiet. Funny- I had never before considered that strategy.

Mother's Shoes

There are 3 crippled people that I know of in Villarrica, because they sit outside the grocery store and beg. The one guy is about my parents’ age, I’d guess. He’s pretty good looking. He doesn’t seem at all ashamed. His upper body is very built because his legs are deformed and he gets around by walking with his arms. Then there’s a kid in a wheelchair who sits with his mom. I think he might have cerebral palsy, but I’m not sure. The third is a heavy set woman who crawls around the dirty sidewalks outside of my apartment. I’ve been around, a few times, as she’s crossed the street, and I get embarrassed by all of the traffic that has to stop and wait for her. I never know whether I should offer to help or ignore her. I mean, what would I do to help? It’s not like I can throw her over my shoulder. But it feels wrong to just pass her and do nothing.

Paraguayans have mixed reactions to beggars. I often feel twisted up, inside, because Jesus plainly said to give generously to all who ask. But that couldn’t have been what He meant, because we know that giving to the undeserving only perpetuates the cycle of poverty, right? One time I gave somebody money and one of my Paraguayan friends told me that it is only "los malos," the bad ones, who beg. She said that "los buenos," the good ones, find other ways of surviving. They would say that the adults could get desk jobs if they wanted them, and the crippled child is probably just being exploited so that his parents don’t have to work. In Asuncion there are a ton of kids that beg, as well as mothers with babies on their hips. People tell me that I shouldn’t give them money because the kids will just take everything home to their alcoholic, abusive, and lazy parents. They say that some women actually share babies to carry when begging, because they evoke more sympathy.

It’s like that in my home culture, too. I’m always torn when I go to Chicago. I want to drop my quarters into the Styrofoam cups of those sitting alone, but usually don’t because my head tells me that the money will likely be used on more booze. However, I also know that many people’s choices are directed by unjust systems, created by the privilaged minority, that don’t give poor people many good options. And this extends to the international poor. For years I've blamed the United States’ greed for the world’s poverty, and talked a lot about social justice and unfair trade barriers. As a rich American, then, I’ve always felt exceedingly guilty for my White, American Privilage, and the extent to which I was contributing to the oppression of the poor. This guilt persuaded me to give a lot of money to the poor, but for all the wrong reasons. I gave because I was afraid of being punished for my wealth, as opposed to giving out of generosity and love. Since I felt that it was my responsibility to give but didn’t want to perpetuate bad systems, I felt burdened to discern between those who were poor because of their own choices and those who were merely victims of injustice, so that I could direct my giving, accordingly. But lately, I’ve changed my mind. I no longer feel the burden to rightly judge, because I no longer feel obligated to give.


I no longer feel obligated to give because I’ve seen both sides, now. Warning: huge and unfair generalizations coming. You will either love me or hate me based on my next paragraph. Also, the situation in Paraguay is NOT representative of the entire world, so I still believe that corrupt systems are responsible for a lot of poverty and they need to be changed, despite what I'm about to say. Now, back to blogging. I know the lives of my supporters, back home. I know of their honesty, integrity, hard work, and generosity. I also know that these values are not part of Paraguayans’ cultural heritage. They are brave, warm, flexible, and tranquilo (relaxed and fun-loving). These character traits are admirable, but not exactly wealth creating. People make choices and choices have consequences. Some people chose to work their butts off and sacrifice relationships in the process. They are relationally poor, but materially rich. Others relax and drink a lot of terere. They are relationally rich, but materially poor. Neither group should necessarily be pitied and rescued. That’s belittling because each group must be allowed to make its own choices, and accept the consequences they bring. In addition to this natural propensity toward enjoying life (as opposed to working it to death), Paraguayan leaders have never been praised for their transparency. A lot of money (not to mention people) have gotten "lost" through the years. For these reasons, I can no longer blame the US for Paraguay’s problems, or obligate my friends, back home, to provide for my friends, here. One of my young friends to whom I’ve given a lot, laughs about the fact that she cannot save money. Whenever she has a little, she spends it before the day is out. A lot of my supporters, on the other hand, aren’t impulsive spenders and do save. I cannot claim that those who have become wealthy through hard work, frugality, wisdom, and honesty (whether individuals or governments) are morally obligated to share the fruit of their labor with those who are unhappily reaping what their own hands have sown. That’s not fair.

Yet neither was it fair that God had mercy on us and became a man. I’ve always struggled to receive His grace, probably because I’ve never really given it. But I am the lazy, greedy, insolent, crippled beggar who never learns and always comes back for more. Just like Paraguay, my human culture is headed for destruction by its own doing. He wasn’t obligated to do anything about it. It wasn’t His fault that we made poor choices. We brought it upon ourselves. I brought it upon myself. He wasn’t bound by some cold theology. He didn’t have to come. Obligation cancels out love. But although He didn’t have to, God loves me and so He came, anyway. And not only did He come that once, but He keeps coming. I screw up and He still comes back. I am the one who has nothing to offer. But God still loves me. What if the Father had said to the Son, "You know what? This whole ’I’ve come for the sick/salvation by grace through faith thing’ really doesn’t give people much of an incentive to clean up their acts. Let’s scrap it and create a system in which the consequences are more reflective of their choices." But He didn’t. Though it hasn’t fit into any kind of effective model for social change, God has continuously and freely shown me love and mercy. Mercy. Free. I am that crippled beggar. But my Father sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous. And my Father pours out blessings upon ungrateful men. I am that crippled beggar, but I have been adopted. He didn’t have to and neither do I. But I want to be like my Dad, and I know no greater joy than to stumble about extending mercy like a little girl playing dress up, clumsily parading through the house in her mother’s shoes.

tag

First of all, I had posted a new blog, earlier this week, and then removed it. I’m sorry to any of you who were confused by this move. It was called Shining Like Stars and dealt with the nature of missions, salvation, and spiritual fruit. If any of you would like to read it, let me know. Secondly, I’ve been virtually tagged by my sister in Elkhart, Indiana. Have any of you been tagged, yet? I didn’t get a very clear explanation of this game, but I think it means I get to tell you 10 things that you may not know about me and then tag 5 others. OK. Here goes...

1. I pretend to be deep and into making a difference in the world. I’ve been a missionary, a teacher, and a youth pastor, and I want to be a professor of theology, someday, but my favorite job was baristaing (being a professional coffee maker) at The Crossing.
2. I was once the youngest member of the Cleveland Little League’s All Star softball team.
3. I love my balcony, especially around sunrise and in the rain. I have a hammock and homemade compost bin under the roofed portion. Next week I’m hoping to plant a balcony vegetable/ herb garden with seeds from my wonderful sister-in-law, Kristin.
4. I don’t change my sheets nearly enough. I should make a chart to remind me.
5. My favorite (and only) pieces of furniture are my extension table and spice rack that my granddad made me for college graduation, a twin bed frame, dresser, and nightstand that he made for my mom when she was little, and the bookcase that I designed and built with my dad.
6. I got detention in the 7th grade for starting a riot in PE. Our teacher, Ms. Wesdorp, hated us slamming our locker doors so several of us did it over and over again just to make her mad. She came in and only caught one girl and gave her detention. I announced that wasn’t fair because there were obviously several involved and our teacher was obviously being discriminatory. She responded that if anybody else wanted to come forward she’d gladly write them up, as well. So, full of holy justice, idealism, and insufferable insubordination, I announced that I, too, would gladly suffer her fate.
7. This may not be news to anybody, but I also sat through one or two Saturday Schools in high school for having too many tardies.
8. I’ve come to LOVE helping kids learn, especially those to whom it doesn’t come easily. When we were dividing up the English classes, this year, I volunteered for the 3rd graders, a class that has had the reputation of being incontrollable since preschool. I acted like I was being a virtuous martyr, but really I was excited about the challenge of it all.
9. I just killed a fly by clapping my hands above it the way my grandpa taught me.
10. OK, I’m back. I just took a break to go wash my hands from the fly guts. I think I’ve always repressed my secret desire to be a cheerleader, and hidden it by making fun of them, instead (my sister receiving the brunt, of course). Yesterday I taught 10 girls, ages 7-22, the "We’re Dynamite" cheer that I’ve had so much practice mocking through the years.

Storytelling and Handholding

Picture yourself in a kitchen. Strip out all of the cupboards, shelves, counters, and food. Good. Now get rid of the table. You can leave a few chairs. Turn out all of the lights except for one. Turn off the hot water. Unplug the fridge and remove the door. Good, now it can be used as a storage unit for your random dishes. Did I mention that your dishes absolutely cannot match? Next, tear out the tile floor and cement foundation, so that you're down to packed earth. Replace your dog with 4 roaming chickens, 2 ducks, a rooster, and freshly hatched chicks. Your dog can keep the cow company, outside. Finally, build a little fire in a stone bowl, and set it on a stool in the middle of the room. Great. Now we're ready to bring in the chairs for our budding children's ministry! It was in this setting that I led the most fun Bible study of my life.


One of my goals was to help train 2 teenagers, so I got to discover my own creativity in finding memorable ways to teach without spending much money on resources. And God has been so good in giving me ideas. I know they were from Him because the best ones were usually last minute additions. For example, one evening I was planning to teach on Gomar and Hosea. I know that sounds crazy as a children's story, but prostitution is an accepted part of this culture. A mother once told me that drugs and prostitution were her greatest fears for her daughter. Girls often sleep with teachers to get good grades or pay their way through school, and fathers commonly pay for their sons' first visit as a right of passage. Anyway, we were going to talk about God's relentless love, that night. On the way out the door, I remembered that bridal shower game where you make a wedding gown out of toilet paper, so I asked my ride to hold on while I ran across the street to buy TP. Another thing I loved about God's inspiration, is that the ideas would often evolve with later lessons. It was that Hosea night, in fact, that I had the random idea of using different colors of water to represent different nations, and mixed them all together to show how Israel became dirty (like a prostitute) when she worshiped other gods. Then this last week, I thought to use Clorox bleach to restore the water to its original clarity. And I discovered that the Clorox took a minute to take effect, so if I worked fast I could dump some red food coloring in bleach (which the kids just assumed was water), say that it represented Jesus' blood, and pour it into Israel's dirty water to make them clean! Then, I had the idea of cutting hearts out of black fabric and having each of the kids baptize their heart in Jesus' blood, and they could see hearts could becoming clean, too! Anyway, that's what I mean by evolving. Back when I first thought to use water to symbolize Israel's impurity, Clorox wasn't even on my mind's horizon. But everything tied together so perfectly. Anyway, every week was a blast!

I decided to teach them the Story of the Bible, by teaching them a scene/ story every week, going in chronological order, beginning with Adam and Eve. For every story, we made up an action step and built a mime that takes us all the way through to Jesus. Paraguayans are story people. We finished up our series, this last week, with Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. I'd met, earlier, with a Guarani speaking member of our church, who talked with the kids about Jesus' desire to have a relationship with them and led them in "the sinners' prayer". Most weeks, I felt like I could get by with shoddy Spanish and a bunch of games/ dramas/ etc, but didn't want to risk confusion on this one. After they prayed, the believer in whose house we met prayed for all of the kids. I've had a lot of questions, recently, about the salvation process, especially with young children whose parents are not believers, themselves. But I do know that God loves these kids and on December 5, 2007, they invited Him to clean their dirty hearts and be their friend. And that's super exciting.

Besides it being a fun and challenging teaching experience, I also grew to love the kids. A few months ago, I noticed that Paraguayan little girls are always holding hands. I have nephews, so I don't know if this is true for little girls, across the board, or specifically in Paraguay. But I've noticed it, here. They're so sweet and honest in their invitations for friendship and connection. They run around the playground holding hands. They go to lunch holding hands. They chase boys holding hands. They do everything holding hands. When do they lose that instinct? A few months, ago, one of the Kapi-I girls took my hand as we ran out to play Hide-and-Seek. It was really uncomfortable for me. I mean, it's sweet to grab someone's hand, squeeze it a little to say "I care" and then let it go. But holding hands as you go from place to place? After a while, I casually pulled away. But then I remembered my hand-holding observations. What an honor! Immediately I reached for hers, again.

My mom always taught me that people don't care what you know until they know that you care. In Kapi-I, I learned that care equals play. Most nights, we'd finish before the adults and go out to play Hide-and-Seek. I hated it. These little kids were the descendants of forest dwelling Guarani warriors. They were quick, agile, and stealthy. I, on the other hand, felt like an overgrown white moron. I could have them cornered at only a meter away, and they'd somehow dodge my grasp. I was "it" every other round. "Why in the world did they want me to play?" I would always ask myself. It certainly wasn't because I offered good competition. But every week they'd eagerly take my hand, and with their shining eyes and radiant smiles they'd ask me, "Vamos a jugar?!" So every week I put my comfort and pride on the shelf and decided that so long as they wanted me, I could do nothing better with my evening than run around a muddy field in the dark with a bunch of little Guarani warriors.

By the way, grapes and watermelon are now in season. YUM!

Augustine Quotes

I just finished reading Augustine’s Confessions and it was incredible. Check out some of my favorite quotes:



What can any man say when he speaks of Thee? But woe to them that keep silence- since even those who say most are dumb (3).

[reflecting on his infancy] And when I was not satisfied… I grew indignant that my elders were not subject to me and that those on whom I actually had no claim did not wait on me as slaves- and I avenged myself on them by crying (5).

What is it to me if someone doesn’t understand this? Let him still rejoice and continue to ask, “What is this?” Let him also rejoice and prefer to seek Thee even if he fails to find an answer, rather than to seek an answer and not find Thee (6)!

For the tedium of learning a foreign language mingled gall into the sweetness of those Grecian myths (14).

Yet, by Thy ordinance, O God, discipline is given to restrain the excess of freedom; this ranges from the ferule of the schoolmaster to the trials of the martyr and has the effect of mingling for us a wholesome bitterness, which calls us back to Thee from the poisonous pleasures that first drew us from Thee (14).

Hear my prayer, O Lord; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline, nor let me faint in confessing unto Thee Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast saved me from all my most wicked ways til Thou shouldst become sweet to me beyond all the allurements that I used to follow. Let me come to love Thee wholly, and grasp Thy hand with my whole heart that Thou mayest deliver me from every temptation, even unto the last (14).

[reflecting on the value placed on rhetoric and being a persuasive speaker] I do not blame the words, for they are, as it were, choice and precious vessels, but I do deplore the wine of error which was poured out to us by teachers already drunk. And unless we also drank, we were beaten, without liberty of appeal to a sober judge (16).

[on the sins of his youth] What shall I render to the Lord for the fact that while my memory recalls these things my soul no longer fears them? I will love Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess to Thy name, because Thou hast put away from me such wicked and evil deeds. To Thy grace I attribute it and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted away my sin as if it were ice (28).

For I had my back toward the light, and my face toward the things on which the light falls, so that my face, which looked toward the illuminated things, was not itself illuminated (63).

And what kind of burden was it for Thy little ones to have a far slower wit, since they did not use it to depart from Thee, and since they remained in the nest of Thy Church to become safely fledged and to nourish the wings of love by the food of a sound faith (63).

For our stability, when it is in Thee, is stability indeed; but when it is in ourselves, then it is all unstable. Our good lives forever with Thee, and when we turn from Thee with aversion, we fall into our own perversion. Let us now, O Lord, return that we be not overturned, because with Thee our good lives without blemish- for our good is Thee Thyself. And we need not fear that we shall find no place to return to because we fell away from it. For, in our absence, our home- which is Thy eternity- does not fall away (64).

I was still eagerly aspiring to honors, money, and matrimony; and Thou dist mock me (90).

[regarding his philosophical/ theological questions] I continued to reflect upon these things, and Thou wast with me. I sighed, and Thou dist hear me. I vacillated, and Thou guidest me. I roamed the broad way of the world, and Thou didst not desert me (90).

Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed; I was engaged; and my mother took the greatest pains in the matter (100).

[in the period following his conversion] The examples of Thy servants whom Thou hadst changed from black to shining white, and from death to life, crowded into the bosom of our thoughts and burned and consumed our sluggish temper, that we might not topple back into the abyss (149).

He is Thy best servant who does not look to hear from Thee what he himself wills, but who wills rather to will what he hears from Thee (194).

It is not the uncleanness of meat that I fear, but the uncleanness of my incontinent appetite. I know that permission was granted Noah to eat every kind of flesh that was good for food; that Elijah was fed with flesh; that Joh, blessed with a wonderful abstinence, was not polluted by the living creatures (that is, locusts) on which he fed. And I know that Esau was deceived by his hungering after lentils and that David blamed himself for desiring water, and that our King was tempted not by flesh but by bread. And thus, the people in the wilderness truly desired their reproof, not because they desired meat, but because in their desire for food they murmured against the Lord.
Set down, then, in the midst of these temptations, I strive daily against my appetite for food and drink. For it is not the kind of appetite that I am able to deal with by cutting it off once for all, and thereafter not touching it, as I was able to do with fornication. The bridle of the throat, therefore, must be held in the mean between slackness and tightness. And who, o Lord, is he who is not in some degree carried away beyond the bounds of necessity? Whoever hs is, he is great; let him magnify Thy name. But I am not such a one, ‘for I am a sinful man.’ Yet I too magnify Thy name, for he who hath ‘overcome the world’ intercedeth with Thee for my sins, numbering me among the weak members of His body; for Thy eyes did see what was imperfect in Him, and in Thy book all shall be written down (199).

How then, shall I respond to him who asks, ‘What was God doing before He made heaven and earth?’ I do not answer, as a certain one is reported to have done facetiously (shrugging off the force of the question), ‘He was preparing hell,’ he said, ‘for those who pry too deep.’ It is one thing to see the answer; it is another to laugh at the questioner- and for myself I do not answer these things thus. More willingly would I have answered, ‘I do not know what I do not know,’ than cause one who asked a deep question to be ridiculed- and by such tactics gain praise for a worthless answer (223).

This way of Thine is too far removed from my sight; it is too great for me. I cannot attain to it. But I shall be enabled by Thee, when Thou wilt grant it, O sweet Light of my secret eyes (228).

Thou, O Light and Truth, wilt show me (232).

[a refrain repeated about many subjects] All this, in Thy sight, is clear to me. Let it become clearer and clearer, I beseech Thee, and in that light let me abide soberly under Thy wings (246).

For they all have the same end, which is temporal and earthly happiness. This is their motive for doing everything, although they may fluctuate within an innumerable diversity of concerns (281).