Perdón

So I guess every day until I leave is going to be like this: I wake up with very low expectations for my day and then my days exceeds them all! Today I woke up late and read some more of A Grace Disguised by Gerald Sittser. I'll write about that later (I'm telling you, if you read all these recent posts, you won't even need to read the book because I'll have summarized the whole thing). Then my roommates and I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller called "Our plans: God's plans" which was a swift kick in the pants about how I pray to the Lord for my future and how I view His involvement in my life. Then we headed downtown to the plaza because there's a market that pops up on Sundays and we're getting some gifts for supporters and family before we leave. And while downtown we stopped at the coffee shop and relaxed for a little bit.

It was a wonderful day full of insightful words from the Lord and quality time with my girls. I hope every day is like this--relaxing and non-imposing. I like waking up and creating adventure in the moment instead of planning out things to the minute and rushing around. I'm kind of scared that when I return to the States I'm going to slip back into crammed-schedule-woman. And I really don't want to be her again. I understand the need to plan ahead and schedule certain things, but breathing room is so much more rewarding.

So while I was reading A Grace Disguised this morning, I got that sick feeling in my abdomen like I've been doing something wrong for years and thinking I've done it right, and now that I know I have so much work ahead of me. I'm going to chop up and paste together a bunch of quotes that pretty much summarizes the message the Lord gave me today:

He said that life in this world is an accident waiting to happen, and there is not much we can do about it... good habits will minimize accidents but not eliminate them. Did I really want to know what was going to happen in the future so that I could protect myself from the accidents that inevitably and randomly occur in every person's life? And if I knew what accidents were looming ahead and could change the course of my life, would I then want to know what accidents would befall me as a result of the new course I had set? What I really wanted, he said, was to be God--an option obviously closed to me... 

During the months that followed the trial I thought often about the driver of the other car... I even dreamed of being in another accident with him. His car collided with mine. It was clearly his fault, as I believed it was the first time. But on this occasion a crowd of hundreds of witnessed the accident and volunteered to testify against him. It eventually occurred to me that this preoccupation was poisoning me. It signaled that I wanted more than justice. I wanted revenge. I was beginning to harbor hatred in my heart. I was edging toward becoming an unforgiving person and using what appeared to be the failure of the judicial system to justify my unforgiveness... 

Unforgiveness is different from anger, grief, or the desire for justice. It is as ruinous as the plague. More destruction has been done from unforgiveness than from all the wrongdoing in the world that created the conditions for it... Unforgiveness uses victimization as an excuse. Unforgiving people become obsessed with the wrong done to them and are quick to say, "You don't know how unbearable my suffering has been! You don't know how much that person hurt me!"... They are obsessed with the bad things that have happened to them in the past, and they are convinced that their circumstances are worse than everyone else's. They even gain pleasure in being victims. 

Unforgiveness simply continues the cycle of destruction that begins with the original wrongdoing. Unforgiveness does not stop the pain. It spreads it. Unforgiveness makes other people miserable... it fouls relationships with complaints, bitterness, selfishness, and revenge. Ironically, unforgiveness makes unforgiving people the most miserable people of all, for they more than anyone else must live with the poisonous consequences of their unforgiveness. Unforgiving people always find justification for their unforgiveness, and it is understandable that they do. No one can understand the pain that they have suffered, and no one can deliver them from it. But neither do unforgiving people understand the pain their unforgiveness inflicts on others.

While reading these sections, I let out big sighs and placed the book over my face at multiple points because I did not have the motivation to keep going deeper and deeper into what seemed to be one of those "hidden faults" (Psalm 19:12) that I ask the Lord to reveal to me regularly. I got the nagging feeling like He's been telling me this for YEARS and it took this period of reflection and solitude to finally get the message into my head.

So, here it is, point blank and brutally honest: something happened while I was growing up. I don't know if it was the bullying in elementary school or the dynamics of relationships in my house... but something happened at some point that had me convinced to my core that my parents loved my brother more. I always knew I could make them laugh, but I never felt like I could make them proud. And when my mother moved my brother and me to Pennsylvania, it was very hard to deal with the separation from my father. I already had it seeded in my heart that he loved my brother more, but suddenly there was another voice telling me that he didn't love me at all.

And really? He tried. That man drove for hours to visit on weekends and try to stay a part of my life... but I was not forgiving. Neither of my parents were particularly open about the issues under the surface, but who's to blame them? I was 10 years old and still playing in the backyard in my dirty overalls. So really, I was left to cope on my own and make sense of it by myself. And what made sense in my head is that my dad didn't like me and didn't want to live with me. And secondly, instead of seeing my mother as a hard working single mom trying to do the best she can to keep our house functioning and keep me from getting into all kinds of trouble--I saw a woman who didn't love me either and didn't want me to be me. I saw a woman who wanted me to be somebody else I could never possibly be.

Well--as I got to college and the Lord made it evidently clear that those lies were not truths and that their presence in my life was poison to my relationships with my family and poisons to my self-image... I rejected the notions but never actually forgave the people. I still got to play the victim and feel justified in the way I treated them, especially my father. I got to run around and hold his past grievances against him--some grievances that he never even committed (things that I had just assumed over the years). And why did I want to justify these things? So that someone else could give me the love I was dying to receive. The same love I'd been refusing to receive from my parents.

When I was in counseling last year for serious anxiety issues, my counselor introduced me to cognitive distortions. There are 10 general patterns of distorted thinking, but the two I think I most identify with in this scenario (and the two that were glaring at me in my mind while reading the book this morning) are: "All or Nothing" and "Disqualifying the Positive".

All or Nothing: This distortion in cognitive thinking focuses on absolute terms. I would frequently describe my parents in this fashion while in high school saying that they are "always disappointed" or "never understanding" in that I could not see reality as the grey area in between. It was black and white. Everything they did or said was generalized to the extreme because in the extremes I could be the victim and not be at fault.

Disqualifying the Positive: My mother came to every single musical I was a part of. She drove me to every gymnastics practice and stayed in the gallery. She came to every recital. She even bought me flowers for the important performances. My father came to every musical as well and to most recitals. He even drove to see me play softball at nationals in Alabama. But did that mean anything to me? Not until now. At the time, it was like all of these good things could not possibly outweigh the bad.


I cry at the thought of it all now. And I cry at the thought of how these patterns even affected my year here. How selfish am I? I can't run around life avoiding responsibility because it makes me feel better. And I certainly can't hold everything against the people I love just because it hurts when they let me down. How much more rich would my life be if in every scenario I was disappointed we had a conversation and I allowed my heart to give up my bitterness? How much deeper would our relationships be?

There were disappointments this year. There were times I wanted to rip my hair out. But in those times instead of laying out the facts and the evaluating how I could have contributed to the success of everyone and the harmony of everyone involved... mostly, I focused on what was wrong and how it was hurting people and where to point fingers. How bogus is that?!

So, here I am, 23 years old still figuring out how to accept responsibility and how to look at the facts. I think it's a tragedy that defense mechanism and distorted thinking creep in the protect the psyche. Sure, awesome--mentally I was protected by myself from the world around me, but like Gerald Sittser said in those quotes... these patterns hurt others in ways we can't even imagine. While we spend time setting up walls to protect ourselves and filtering events through our own lenses to hold grudges and withhold forgiveness, we are wounding the very people we want love from.

The reason I had that sick feeling in my abdomen is not because of these truths God smacked me with today--it's because of what must happen with these truths. To sweep them under a rug and forget about them would defeat the purpose of learning them. There must be conversations, most likely with tears, of confessions and reconciliation and all of the other humiliating things that make me feel like the worst person on the world. But honestly--I'd rather have to go through them and be humbled than run around like a prideful idiot hurting people. The latter is and implied life without God, and that just petrifies me.

buenas noches,
Melissa

La Vida Normal...

Life has gone into slow motion. I woke up at 8, and by 10:30 it already felt like 2pm. It's 10:30 pm now but it feels like well past midnight. It's like every activity I do now seems twice as long but really isn't. I literally have nothing to do and I am starting to get cabin fever already.

Last night we went out as a house and had dinner together in honor of Rachel heading out to Cochabamba. Emily, Lisa, and I are all heading home to the States soon, but Rachel is spending the "summer" (it's winter here) in Cochabamba at language school to improve her Spanish for this next year she's serving in Bolivia.

In order from left to right: Lisa, Rachel, Emily, and Me (photo courtesy of Rachel)

We had dinner at Med which is a small chain (3 locations in Santa Cruz). I ate probably the best chicken of my life and if I knew how to cook it that way I can guarantee it's all I would eat until my death. Rachel left this morning at around 8 am and it's weird. I know we're leaving and this is the end, but saying goodbye to the students didn't feel like the end. I knew in my head that there were still over 3 weeks left here. But now--a roommate's gone and we have 10 days until our flight. It really is winding down to nothing.

And yet a part of me feels like I should be doing something--as if I am purposeless and guilty for not doing anything. But I understand the need for silence, oh how I've learned that lesson well these past 3 weeks. And I should not over exaggerate to say I'm doing nothing. I helped Emily weed the garden for an hour this morning and I went to get some groceries to sustain me for the next 10 days this afternoon. I read a whole book this morning and I'm going to hang out with students on Monday. So my life is not a TOTAL waste.

But I truly do feel like I've lost my purpose. I have not been teaching in a classroom for two weeks now and it's frankly demoralizing. I can go out to eat and I can watch movies with friends and meet up with students and travel around--but not teaching is depressing. 

I did not realize until this year just how much I have fought against God's plan for my life. I spent so long fighting for other goals and other things I thought would fulfill me and glorify me--but rarely did I seek and fight for what God had planned and what God desired. If I had just stopped at any moment, I would realize that He was always calling me to teach and He was always calling me to missions. It was evident every time that I took a step toward Him. And yet--it took me until this year to finally understand His providence.

I can't imagine having been happier doing anything else than this. I am not just sad that I have given up my students and am heading home--I am primarily sad that I am no longer in a classroom. I literally sit in anticipation for the next classroom He asks me to enter. And sure--it was easy to fall into idolatry at points this year and make my job my source of value and identity, but when aligned correctly and when putting Christ first, my classroom gave me the greatest sense of joy and understanding in the Lord.

So... what to do for 10 days? I don't know yet. I'll keep you posted as I find out. But what I do know is that God does not waste time. He has a purpose for all things and these things are made evident to those who seek.

bendiciones,
Melissa

Preguntas

I don't what God's up to these days. I mean--I know what He's doing, being the creator of the universe and all, but really it seems like anything is possible. I've had quite the run this year and LOTS of reflection the past two days. Today I met up with my ministry team leader and my field chairman to discuss exiting thoughts and feedback. It was sad. I had to reflect on disappointments and how the mission could have done better or helped me more.

And yes, I could complain all day about it. I could grumble about how when I returned to the field after attending the funeral in the States, no one besides my roommate really reached out to me. And I could go on about how I felt little spiritual guidance or feeding this year. But really--what is there to complain about? That I was given circumstances in which I must press into Christ and find His strength for my own flesh?

I will certainly not complain about that.

I have read 2 things in the past 24 hours that have hit me hard. The first is another excerpt from Gerald Sittser's A Grace Disguised. If you have not read it, but have been reading my blog recently, you might as well not buy it because you'll have heard all the good parts before I'm done (haha). Here is what struck me:

My faith did not begin with the accident. Still, since then I have grown spiritually in new ways. The tragedy pushed me toward God, even when I did not want him. And in God I found grace, even when I was not looking for it. As a single parent, I have reached the point of such frustration and fatigue that I have given up trying to be a perfect parent for my children and have instead invited God to be their parent through me.. My loss has revealed how small my life is and how limited my resources are. But it has also enabled me to see how privileged I am to be alive and how meaningful are the opportunities afforded me to serve as a parent and a teacher. 

Not that I have achieved perfect contentment and gratitude. There will never be a real point of arrival. What matters is the movement forward. New circumstances require new adjustments, continued growth, and constant struggle. Soon I will have teenagers, and that will demand character, wisdom and energy that I presently lack... One of Jesus' early and great followers, the apostle Paul, wrote once that it is not what we have achieved but what we are striving for that counts. "But one thing I do," he wrote. "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

I feel like you can replace the word "accident" with "this school year" and this is my current life story. My faith did not begin with this school year, still since then I have grown spiritually in new ways... But seriously, I am forever changed by this year. The executive director of my mission has talked a few times about the "marks of a mission" in relation to the organization itself. But I am coining a new meaning to that phrase. I am saying that the "marks of a mission" are the marks it leaves on my heart. I am forever branded by this year, no matter where I go or what I do. And when branded, while squirming in the muck of despair, I had a choice. I had a choice to cling to what was behind and complain about my circumstances, or to forget what is behind and strain to what is ahead in Christ.

And one choice far outweighs the other, trust me.

The second thing that I read in the past 24 hours that struck me was a passage from Job. I have read it many times and I'm going to post pieces of it because it's rather long (go read for yourself if you'd like to be humbled). Have fun reading it. I like to read it with kind of a sarcastic tone, even though I know God is not a mean sarcastic fellow:

Then the LORD answered Job from the whirlwind 

"Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorant words? Brace yourself like a man, because I have some questions for you, and you must answer them." 

"Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, if you know so much. Who determined its dimensions and stretched out the surveying line? What supports its foundations, and who laid its cornerstone as the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?" 

"Who kept the sea inside its boundaries as it burst from the womb, and as I clothed it with clouds and wrapped it in thick darkness? For I locked it behind barred gates, limiting its shores. I said, 'This far and no farther will you come. Here your proud waves must stop!" 

"Have you ever commanded the morning to appear and caused the dawn to rise in the east? Have you made daylight spread to the ends of the earth, to bring an end to the night's wickedness? As the light approaches, the earth takes shape like clay pressed beneath a seal; it is robed in brilliant colors.The light disturbs the wicked and stops the arm that is raised in violence." 

"Have you explored the springs from which the seas come? Have you explored their depths? Do you know where the gates of death are located? Have you seen the gates of utter gloom?"

"Do you realize the extent of the earth? Tell me about it if you know!" 

"Where does light come from, and where does darkness go? Can you take each to its home? Do you know how to get there?" 

"But of course you know all this! For you were born before it was all created, and you are so very experienced!" 

Then the Lord said to Job, "Do you still want to argue with the almighty? You are God's critic, but do you have the answers?" 

Job 38:1-21, 40:1-2

I really can't fathom why I run around questioning God. I mean really--every time I'm proven to be an ignorant fool, yes? So what is my deal? Why must I go through events and then question His goodness and wisdom?

So this is my current place. I am almost done reflecting. I have 12 days left to say goodbye to one roommate, pack my bags, see a few students one last time, and hear the Lord say all He can say to me before I get on a plane. I know there is more reflection to come and more obvious answers to be given to me, as well as some much needed peace, but I'm finally at a place where I've stopped asking questions. Because really--I don't need to know. All I need to know is that Christ died for my sins and there will be eternal rejoicing with my brothers in heaven. Anything He tells me beyond that is just a blessing.

bendiciones,
Melissa

La Maleta

Today was closure. I finished stripping my existence from the walls of my room at school and signed out. My keys are gone, my memories are only in my head now... and I took the last of my things back to my house. Emily and I did a strange thing this afternoon, too. We suddenly took out suitcases and started packing.

I mean, WHAT?! Who does that? Two weeks from this moment I will be sitting in the Miami airport, so it's not like I'm in a rush to pack. But I took my only suitcase and put all of my books away and some clothes I won't wear again. It was weird. It's officially becoming real. I said goodbye to my classroom and hello to the suitcase. I know I won't be packing packing for another week or so, but still... the suitcase has been opened.

I cried on and off this morning, for various reasons, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Having this weekend of processing and multiple goodbyes last week (finals, awards ceremony, and graduation) really helped this time to pass smoothly. It's not a harsh ripping of the band-aid. It's more of a slow letting go.

But--I already have 3 appointments for this weekend and early next week to hang out with some students. I know I can't see all of them again, but there are a few I certainly want to pour into one last time before I leave. And the more I say goodbye and the more I spend time with the Lord--the more comfort I receive. I know I will see them again because I know quite clearly that God is calling me back. And the more I say goodbye, the less depressed their faces look. They are getting more comfortable with saying "I'll see you again" and being okay with the transition.

And... now that I have free time... I'm taking more pictures of things I want to remember. So, here are my happy images--the things I want to hold on to:

This last one, especially, makes me happy. Emily was singing and purposefully avoiding eye contact with my camera. But, I captured her singing, which I will certainly miss.

I read a little more in A Grace Disguised and seriously--God could not have picked a better time to bring this to me than right now. In the middle portion of the book, Gerald Sittser is describing how the depression and the deep sorrow comes later, not right after the loss:

This experience rarely follows immediately after the loss. It occurs at the end of the fight, after the denial yields to reality, the bargaining fails, the binges lead to emptiness, and the anger subsides. Then there is no will or desire left to resist the inevitable and undeniable. One is left only with deep sadness and profound depression. The divorce is final, and there is nothing to be done to win the partner back... 

At the core of loss is the frightening truth of our mortality. We are creatures, made of dust. Life on earth can be and often is wonderful. But in the end all of us will die. During the last few months of Lynda's life, she reached a new level of contentment and gratitude that she had not known before... The night before the accident, Lynda returned home from choir rehearsal at 10:00 PM. We had hot chocolate together and crawled into bed, where we talked and laughed until 12:30 AM. At the end of our conversation she said to me, "Jerry, I can't imagine life being any better than it is right now. It is so wonderful to me. I am overcome by the goodness of God." Less than one day later, she was dead. 

The accident set off a silent scream of pain inside my soul. That scream was so loud that I could hardly hear another sound, not for a long time, and I could not imagine that I would hear any sound but that scream of pain for the rest of my life.

While that may seem a bit dramatic--it's true. I left the States and was okay for a few months before it really hit me that I wasn't coming home for quite some time. And I was okay for a few days after Chris left in January before the reality of our situation settled into my head. I was fine for a few weeks after Tony passed away, and it wasn't until I came back to Bolivia that I entered a deep funk that bordered depression. And it wasn't until after I'd said goodbye to my students that I was finally struck to the core with my bitterness.

And what I've found most harsh when reflecting on all of this (since I have so much time on my hands to basically do nothing else) is that the loss isn't just the loss of a person. It's the loss of yourself as well. That scream of pain that seems like it will never go away is so painful because it's a piece of you. Sure, the people are gone, but their relationship with you is a part of your person. You are who you are partly because of the people around you. I am fun and out going--but only when people are around me. By myself I'm a book reading, blogging, picture taking, quiet person. It's the others that make me who I am.

And honestly, I'm not ok with giving up the "Miss Kroll" part of me yet. I've accepted giving up the role of daughter-in-law, which wasn't even mine yet. God has brought some closure these past weeks, especially these past days. But there's a piece of my identity sitting in my locked, sterile classroom and I'm not ready to chop it off yet. I know I'll get it back. I know if I teach next year, it will manifest in some other way. But I have to let go first--and I'm still gripping strongly.

But as with everything else in my life right now, it takes time. I know that these last 2 weeks in Bolivia are a time for me to grow accustomed to not going into school every day and not seeing my students. It's a time for me to rediscover me as I am at the core, not me as the teacher. God made more than just a mouth in a classroom--He made a woman, and I'm kind of excited to go find her again.

So these are my thoughts. My life will never be boring so long as Jesus is leading me--He seems to pick the adventure roads of high intensity and greatest challenge. But, how would one grow if the status quo was not constantly shaken?

buenas noches,
Melissa

¡Vivo!

Hello! I am alive and well! I've spent a few days now without internet--I even came into school on Saturday to clean up my classroom a little bit and check my emails, but the power and internet were both out at school. It has been so windy (up to 60 mph) that I have had dreams of my house blowing away.

So for those of you praying for my financial situation--thank you. I was on the phone with my bank for over an hour on Thursday trying to figure it all out. The guy was sweet enough to try to send me $100 through Western Union for free. After spending some time in thought, I realized that I had accidentally held on to a debit card for another account I had in college (and by accidentally, I mean God totally knew this was going to happen). So--after calling both banks and figuring out how I can prove my identity without knowing either bank account numbers... I have money transferring and will be able to survive the rest of my days here!

With that being said--these past few days have been insanity. I went through awards ceremonies, graduation, classroom cleaning, final grading, and then a full day of silence. But I know why God took away my resources--I needed that silence. If I had internet or phone access or money, I would have found ways to distract myself from the necessary grieving that had to be done. I needed to wrestle and argue and pray and cry over the loss of so many wonderful students.

Here are some pictures from the awards and graduation:

Me (left) handing an academic award to Bekah (middle). Julie (right) emceed the awards.

Graduation! Bekah's older sister, Rachel, being escorted by her father, Paul.

Class of 2012!

The ceremony was beyond emotional. It was so precious. Each student graduating had a letter written to them by their parents which was read through a microphone while that student was escorted by their parents to the front. It was tear-jerking. The ceremony was beautiful and some of the speeches made were extremely reflective and worth listening to no matter what stage of life you're in.

I've spent time these past days reading more of A Grace Disguised, by Gerald Sittser, and have found myself struck with a lot of harsh realities I never truly wanted to deal with. I'll share a few quotes and thoughts that have been running deep:

[A cousin] mentioned a poem by John Donne that turns on the point that, though east and west seem farthest removed on a map, they eventually meet on a globe. What therefore appears as opposites--east and west--in time com together, if we follow one or the other long enough and far enough. Later my sister, Diane, told me that the quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise...

In other words, though I experienced eath, I also experienced life in ways that I never thought possible before--not after the darkness as we might suppose, but in the darkness. I did not go through pain and come out the other side; instead, I lived in it and found within that pain the grace to survive and eventually grow. I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absored the loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it. I learned gradually that the deeper we plunge into suffering, the deeper we can enter in a new, and different, life--a life no worse than before and sometimes better...

The soul is elastic, like a balloon. It can grow larger through suffering. Loss can enlarge its capacity for anger, depression, despair, and anguish, all natural and legitimate emotions whenever we experience loss. Once enlarged, the soul is also capable of experiencing great joy, strength, peace, and love. What we consider opposites--east and west, night and light, sorrow and joy, weakeness and strength, anger and love, despair and hope, death and life--are no more mutually exclusive than winter and sunlight. The soul has the capacity to experience these opposites, even at the same time...

Denial puts off what should be faced. People in denial refuse to see loss for what it is, something terrible that cannot be reversed. They dodge pain rather than confront it. But their unwillingness to face pain comes at a price. Ultimately it diminishes the capacity of their souls to grow bigger in response to pain. They make the same misakes as patients who, following major surgery, refuse to get out of bed and put damaged muscles back to work. They pretend nothing is wrong and tell everyone that they are feeling wonderful. But denial of their problem causes muscles to atrophy until they cannot get out of bed at all. In the end, denial leads to a greater loss.

I've read about half the book now--these exerpts having been taken from across 4 chapters. I'm glad that the Lord brought this literature into my life. I'm glad that I have a place to read someone else's sorrow and process and then allow myself to follow his route of grieving which is healthy in comparison to my world of denial and refusal. It's hard--but it's worth it. I did not realize until reading this book and spending the past few days without resources just how angry I was with the Lord. It wasn't rage or the feeling of needing to punch someone... it was just an inner disappointment. And I felt justified. I had a future father-in-law who supported me and said all the things I always wanted my own father to tell me, and who always pointed me back to Jesus. And then he was gone. And while no one else was preventing it--God watched it happen.

And though at the time I said I saw providence and I knew it was his time to go--I don't think I really believed it because I sat there this past weekend crying and feeling abandoned because the man who was such a blessing was suddenly gone. And at the same time, I was crying over my students who have brought me so much joy. I see their pain, I see their suffering, and I see how God has used me in their life--and I don't want it to stop. I don't want to leave them and not be their support anymore. I know God has this season for a purpose, but I outright was against it.

So, it's been a hard few days. It's been a struggle to understand just how much more God loves these students than I love them. And it's been a struggle to listen to the truth of how God is my father and though these men that He has put in my life are here for a time and a purpose,  God is my father.

If I'd had it my way--I would have been on the first flight leaving this past Saturday. I did not see the need in sticking around. But it's taking a lot of time to tear down my classroom. I have to take everything out, pack it or throw it away, and push all of my furniture to the center of the room so they can pain the walls. Many of us have said it feels like we're erasing our existence. My walls are white again with only a few stains of blue from sticky tack--no vocab word wall, no posters, no student projects, no bulletin boards. My desks are in a pile in the middle of the room, my books are packed, my desk drawers are emptied.

It's like I was never here.

And that's the biggest kick of all--when God says "I love them more than you ever could", I don't want to believe it. I want to argue that if He loved them, things would be different. If He loved them, they wouldn't have struggles, and I wouldn't have to leave. But, oh what lies those are. Since He loves them, they have struggles. Because He loves them, things are the way they are. They must be challenged, they must be stripped, they must grow on their own. And I must erase my existence from this classroom so that they can go and do what I have taught them to do... so that they can go and press into Jesus where they were pressing into me.

Yesterday I listened to a Matt Chandler sermon on identity. He was reading out of Colossians 2--if you have Itunes, you need to download this podcast. He's from The Village Church, it's his Colossians (Part 10) sermon called "Identity". Though the rest of it is amazing and I definitely needed to be reminded that everything is of Christ and made through Him and I cannot boast in anything or gain my value from my work--what I needed to hear most was his discussion on promises. He said that many people become angry with God for not fulfilling promises He never made. And that's where I was--holding broken promises against God, except they were promises He never made. They were things that I wanted and things that I thought God wanted, but when they didn't happen... I blamed Him. He never promised me a father-in-law. He never promised me next year in Bolivia. He never promised for certain students to come to know Him. He never promised for their family lives to have improved.

So who am I to hold it against Him? And who am I to then complain when our relationship runs dry?

So there it is. I don't know when, or if, we'll get internet back at our house, or if I'll be back at the school after today. So--if there's another blogpost before I leave, I'm sure I'll have more to say. If not--this year has been the most influential year in my growth as a Christian, as a teacher, and as a woman. I would not be who I am if I had spent this year anywhere else--and I don't want to be anyone else in this moment. God knows what I want and He knows what I need--and He will only give me what is best.

bendiciones,
Melissa

El dejar ir

Yesterday was tragic in so many ways. Primarily, I said goodbye to my last classes and they made me SO proud. My 8th graders especially. They created FANTASTIC projects that made me well up with pride--I am floored by how awesome they are.

These projects were a culminating activity reviewing the different changes they experienced this year personally, academically, and spiritually. It was wonderful to listen to them all. Student reflection is one of my favorite things and I honestly don't think they do it enough.

After they left, I had to call my bank to talk about some issues my check card is having. But I really needed to cry about my students leaving. So I shoved it all inside and called my bank only to find out that they had cancelled my check card and issued a new one which is sitting at my mother's house. I have no checks with me either. So... I poured my tears out on the phone. I was completely irrational and the poor man on the other side went into calm panic mode. He offered to have the company wire me some of my funds for free through Western Union or even make a new card within a day and ship it first rate down to me.

He was an angel from God. I eventually told him I would think about it and call him back because I couldn't focus on anything but feeling like death. I went home and cried for a few hours, then slept for 4 hours, and ate dinner with my roommates. Afterwards, I was sitting with my roommate Emily, feeling like I had no more purpose and she said something that God definitely wanted me to hear. She said, "I think it's funny that God is closing everything down and making you focus just on Him."

And it's true. It's so true. My laptop is broken, my bank card is cancelled, my students are gone, and though I can use Emily's laptop to Skype with my fiance, our internet isn't working. It's completely true. God has hedged me up like Hosea's wife and is forcing me to spend time with just Him. I am here for 17 more days and even though I feel like I have no purpose--He is making me spend those 17 days grieving, reflecting, cleaning up, letting go, and listening to Him.

And yea, it sucks. And yes, I just want to be on the next plane out of here, but He knows that's not what I need. I am a jumper--I jump from one thing to the next and don't really take time to reflect. Isn't that funny, though? The one thing I made my 8th graders do at that end of the year, and the one thing that I think is most important for students to do is the one thing that I never let myself do?

So here it is. I don't know how often I'll be able to update this blog, but I'm going to be spending 2 1/2 weeks in reflection. I have no idea what will come out of it, but I'm praying that God will move, simply because I can't stay in this emotional place where I currently am.

On a side note--one of my students wrote a worship song. You can check it out here: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/33114582/01%20Track%201.wma

bendiciones,
Melissa

Cómo decir adiós

Throughout my years of growing and learning and making new friends and losing old ones--people have consistently told me that I'm great at giving advice. You can ask me all kinds of things and I'll give you my personal or best educated opinion. But don't you dare ask me about how to say goodbye.

Because I don't know.

I can tell you how NOT to say goodbye. What you don't do is bring your students in for their finals, administer their finals, then hug a few and shove your feelings down inside of you. Then when you're all good and bottled up, you DON'T go home and cry for 3 hours feeling like you just lost 36 of your own children.

Trust me--it's not a pleasant feeling. I came home from school today feeling terrible. I thought I was sick. I curled up in a ball with a nasty headache and pains all over my body. I was beyond exhausted and I seriously thought it was Dengue round 2. But then the tears came. And when the tears stopped a few hours later? I miraculously felt better.

Today I had exams for 9th and 10th grade. It was not what I was expecting. I was expecting to cry and hug each of them. But we hardly said goodbye at all and I didn't really hug many. No--that's tomorrow. Tomorrow I have 7th and 8th grade exams. They are my babies. 9th and 10th grade were classes that brought joy and challenge to my life--but they were already grown when I got them. My 7th and 8th graders were infants in August and now they're young adults. And tomorrow, I'm losing 42 more children.

Maybe that sounds a little morbid, but it expresses perfectly how I feel. There is an emptiness, like a cavity, beneath my sternum, and at any moment I feel nauseated or light headed. I don't know how teachers do it every year. I don't know if this is just because I'm leaving the country, or just because these kids are special--or if every year that I teach, I will be an absolute wreck on the last days.

But either way, I do not look forward to tomorrow. I spent my evening recuperating and I know tomorrow will be worse. I know tomorrow I will have to go through some kind of self-therapy.

As always, though, God came through. Today He showed me His hand in all of it. I had some students hang back after their finals and thank me for being here. They said that they could see God's purpose in me being here and they could honestly see the impact I've had at this school. A couple cried when they said goodbye because they don't want another English teacher, but I know God will bring them what they need.

And when I started grading their finals? I was praising Jesus up and down because they got it. Out of all the crazy things that happened this year, all my rambling, all my stories, all my side tracks, all my seemingly ridiculous classroom activities--they understood what we set out to accomplish.

So after 10 months of wondering if I'm doing anything right--it turns out I'm not a bad teacher. That's enough for me to say "Thank you, Jesus" for the next few years of my life.

buenas noches,
Melissa

María Popins

I will begin by my promise of pictures from yesterday. Here are some of my 7th graders being adorably sweet and reading their children's stories to the 1st graders:

Today was indescribably weird. A few things have been on my mind and my emotions are no longer explainable. To begin with, a good friend of mine let me borrow her book called "A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss" by Gerald L. Sittser. I've been having a hard time reconciling my heart since returning from my visit to the States. I feel like I've been shoving my feelings away to focus on my tasks during the week, and then wallowing in my feelings on the weekends when I can't focus on anything. So beginning this book has given me a healthy place to cry and reflect. The opening to the second chapter particularly struck a chord with me:

All people suffer loss. Being alive means suffering loss. Sometimes the loss is natural, predictable, and even reversible. It occurs at regular intervals, like the seasons... Such losses characterize what it means to live as normal human beings. Living means changing and change requires that we lose one thing before we gain something else... But there is a different kind of loss that inevitably occurs in all of our lives, though less frequently and certainly less predictably. This kind of loss has more devastating results and it is irreversible. Such loss includes terminal illness, disability, divorce, rape, emotional abuse, physical and sexual abuse, chronic unemployment, crushing disappointment, mental illness, and ultimately death. If normal, natural, reversible loss is like a broken limb, then catastrophic loss is like an amputation. The results are permanent, the impact incalculable, the consequences cumulative. Each new day forces on the face some new and devastating dimensions of the loss. It creates a whole new context for one's life.

This man was in a car accident with his wife, 4 children, and mother. He had to watch his wife, mother, and daughter die while it took over an hour for the ambulance to come. I cannot imagine living through that. But honestly--knowing that two years after the fact, he was able to write this book and be reflectively calm about it all gives me some kind of hope. Losing Chris's dad has been harder than I thought it would be--it's been deeper a wound than any loss yet in my life. Additionally, leaving these students has been harder than any other transition yet in my life.

As I was taking things off of my walls in my room today, I had a feeling come over me: I feel like Mary Poppins. You know at the end of the film, when she packs up her things, and the kids whine and ask her why she has to leave and she basically says that she's done her job and it's time for her to go? I feel like that. I feel like if I stayed any longer, I would be crippling them--I'd be that teacher that lets them get away with things and slowly undermines the system. I don't want to be that teacher. I'm glad that I could be here to give them a space to breathe and rejuvenate and reconsider their behavior before returning to the rest of their school day, but I can't stay.

But I can't leave either. I know I will be able to walk to that airport in a few weeks, but how do I reconcile? How do I sit on that plane without feeling like I'm abandoning my own children? How do I honestly lay them in the hands of the Lord trusting that He will care for them through someone else just as He did through me--and that the person He chooses will be the person they need more than they would need me?

At the same time, that plane can't come soon enough. I get to Skype with Chris every other day now and it's only for a half hour or so and it's just not enough. There was a time where it was somewhat satisfying, but the distance has almost become like a drain of all my emotions and all of my energy. I have no idea how people do it and survive. The 16 year-old me who was super independent would kick me for the seemingly cliche feelings of my heart, but I cannot live without that man. Sometimes when I think about his father, I try to imagine what life would be like without Chris--but it's torture to think about and I have no idea why I willingly drudge my heart through that kind of pain.

So this is my life. This is my broken, weird life. I don't know how long this season lasts, but I really want it to end. I want to enjoy my time with my kids these last two days and enjoy the remaining weeks with my missionary family. I know God is meeting me in this time--He keeps bringing me moments where I can escape and feel full joy and He keeps bringing me reasons to appreciate my time here. He has been beyond faithful to me and I know that this time has a purpose. He does not allow things to happen without reason.

bendiciones,
Melissa

Por fin

Today was the last day of teaching.... I made it!!!! The Lord sustained me through this years and here I am, 10 months later on the other side of what seemed at times an insurmountable task.

My 7th graders all brought their short stories they'd written and illustrated over the weekend today to read to the first graders. I will post the adorable pictures tomorrow. I was so proud of them, though! I have never seen that high level of responsibility across the entire class. It was insanely impressive and definitely a good note to end the year on.

All of my finals are on Wednesday and Thursday, so tomorrow I will be cleaning and packing my room. I have a terrible feeling that I'll just be crying the whole time because it makes me so sad to be leaving. I am not against my return because I long for home and I know this is the next season God has prepared for me, but I have grown to love these students as my own children. Some of the older students have even become like siblings to me.

I feel like Bolivia is becoming to me like Rome was to Paul. You know, that place he longed for but God wasn't taking him there. I know He's taking me back here some day, but that knowledge is not good enough to quench the desires of my heart in this moment. I had my students write down long-term prayer requests today that I can pray over them while I'm gone. At least 5 students wrote for me to raise support quickly to come back sooner and a large percentage wrote to pray that I can be their teacher again at some point. Even though all of me wants to go home and be reunited and live in the next season God has prepared for me, a part of me wants to extend this season forever and be a stability for these students.

I am putting them in God's hands because there is nothing else I can do. I know He will care for them because He loves them more than I ever can.

bendiciones,

Melissa

La fe de Abram

I know my posts have been splotchy recently. I've been without internet for long periods of time and my laptop has decided to not function properly (it just won't receive or keep a charge from the battery). So here I am, on my roommate's computer, praying that the internet stays connected long enough to get this out. Want to know why the internet is to splotchy? Wind.

That's right--ye who live in the wonderful land of high speed internet... mine goes away when the wind blows. I'd say count your blessings now.

Not that a lack of internet is the biggest sacrifice in the world. I just showered for the first time since Friday because I was too scared to enter my bathroom the past 2 days. Somehow in the matter of 8 hours on Friday, I came home from school and the bathroom was entirely infested with ants. They dug up from the ground through the wood molding in my bathroom and infested the sink, the cabinets, the floor, the toilet, and the shower. And to be honest--I didn't feel like fighting it. I just let them live for a day and went stinky for 48 hours. But today? Today I grabbed my can of Bolivian Raid and attacked. It felt good. It smells like no other, but I now have an ant graveyard and a clean body.

Again, ye who live in the wonderful land of clean bathrooms and running hot water... I'd say count your blessings now.

I also have a sinus infection and I blew my nose incessantly last night and left the tissues (technically toilet paper, I don't have tissues) on my night stand with the intent of throwing them away in the morning. But no--the toilet paper tissues were so covered with ants that I thought the tissues had turned brown over night. I could not even see the white of the toilet paper.

And once more, ye who live in the land of lotion-infused Kleenex and ant-less tissues... I'd say count your blessings now.

But I am done complaining because I have had a wonderful time this weekend with the Lord and hearing His heart for this world. I long for home. I really do. But the more I think about it, the more afraid I am of getting my luxuries back and losing the dependency on God that I have here. But I have had the call of obedience repeated to me this entire weekend because God keeps telling me "You have to do this My way. I can see everything from where I am and I know what is best for you even though you think you know what's best."

I wrote some more in my book on this subject. I wrote a whole chapter this weekend on how we often make our own demands and our own plans for our life without consulting God. Or we do consult Him, but instead of asking for His advice, we say "So... this is how it's going down. And please bless these plans because I want them to happen my way." Here's a section of the chapter:

So there the question stands: why does God allow us to choose? I used to wrestle with the idea of freewill for years growing up. It was always a concept that bothered me. I thought that God hated people because He allowed them to choose Hell. What kind of a God just stands there and lets their child choose Hell?

But God lets us choose for the same reason I let my students choose: to be authentic. What I mean when I refer to authenticity is the simple matter of what is real and what is fake. When a student had a bad attitude about an activity, their bad attitude spread like a disease to the people around them. Suddenly instead of just one student not wanting to comply, I had six. So I learned quickly that if a student did not want to participate, it simply took a brief conversation that went a little something like this:

“You have a choice to make. You can choose to participate in this activity. If you choose to, you must put your effort into it and not complain. I do not give you activities to torture you or for my own pleasure--they are for your benefit. So you can choose to do this activity with us, or you can choose to sit outside because I will not allow you to get in the way of the success of someone else. If you choose to fail this assignment by not participating, that is your choice. You are willingly choosing failure. But I will not let you choose failure for someone else.”

And, to my surprise, I had students who willingly chose failure. The first few times I did it, I felt like a bad teacher because my students failed. I thought that I had not done a good job and that they were failing because of me. But the more I had these conversations, the more the students chose to participate, enjoy themselves, and ultimately succeed.

I know that God lets me choose to do things my way and watches me fail because I do the same thing with my students. I let them know what is the right way. I let them know which path leads to success and which path leads to failure. And I let them choose. Why? Because they would not learn any other way. If I grabbed their hand and did it all for them--it would be my work, not theirs. They would learn nothing.

In addition to thinking about these things, I spent some time this afternoon thinking about Abraham. I was reading back through the book of Romans and got to the portion which talks about how Abraham's faith was proved through his actions. So, I stopped reading Romans and went back to Genesis chapters 11 and 12 to the beginning of Abraham's journey.

Did you know that over 360 years passed between the flood and Abram's birth? I am shocked. I counted the lineage years between Shem and Abram. When something happens in our society today, it does not take long for speculators to doubt the facts. It took no time at all for people to start claiming "government conspiracy" over 9/11. It took only a few decades for people to doubt landing on the moon. I am appalled at the amount of general skepticism in our society.

But think about this: the flood happens and Shem survives with his father and brothers on the ark. He leaves, separates from his family, and settles down. Over 360 years later, his descendants have officially settled in Ur of the Chaldeans. One of them, Terah, takes his son, Abram, and grandson, Lot, and moves towards Canaan. He settles before reaching his destination in the land of Haran.

Abram was a nomad. His father took him from the land of his ancestors to move to a foreign place. And then out of nowhere after his own father's death, God calls him to move to Canaan. This God who hasn't spoken in over 360 years. This God who could very well just be a myth now. Some legend that over 300 years ago there was supposedly a flood and your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was on a boat that survived.

I mean, come on. People don't even believe all the stories they hear from Ellis Island anymore, and that's only 3 or 4 generations ago.

But what did Abram do? He went! He picked up his things, took his wife and his nephew, and went to Canaan (which, by the way, had a TERRIBLE reputation).

It would be like this: let's say I'd lived in Pennsylvania my entire life in the beautiful rolling hills and countryside. And then one day, my father picked up my family and moved us west with the intention of going to Michigan. But, we stopped in Indiana. And then he died. While grieving his death and trying to figure out life in Indiana, or contemplating moving back to my people in Pennsylvania, God speaks to me--God, whom I have not heard from personally before. God, who supposedly did something great with my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, speaks to me and tells me to move to downtown Detroit, where I could easily be murdered.

And I go?

Sweet goodness, what kind of obedience that is! I had a hard enough time picking up and coming here for a year, and I know Jesus. And then a hard enough time agreeing to come back for longer some day. But just picking up and going somewhere potentially dangerous forever... with no intention of turning back... because a God I hardly know asked me to?

What would the world look like if everyone who professed faith had obedience like that? I am scared to think about it only out of fear that I would be greatly disappointed in how great a world we could have, and just how much we sell ourselves short.

So there it is--my brain for the past 3 days. I don't know what God has left to do with and through me while I'm here, but I hope it's big. I've been stressed and focused on the school year, but I have 3 weeks to do His work and I know that He will use the willing heart. I pray that each of you who reads this gives your heart willingly to do His work, because I know that the world around you would greatly benefit from His works. The world is literally dying because of its absence.

bendiciones,
Melissa

De la nada

Never before in my life have I ever been in "survival mode" like this. I was seriously just so happy to actually "make it" to Friday.

I am cured of Dengue--the Lord has been good to me. But now I have some sort of other sickness happening. It's been a nasty switch over for the seasons and my nose/throat is NOT happy. But I'd honestly rather deal with a serious case of congestion and sore throat than Dengue. Dengue was worse than death--a stuffy nose I can deal with.

My students have been pulling through, too. I know it's hard. I can remember spacing out at the end of every school year. But they are trying and it makes me so proud, even though it's exhausting to try to motivate them. I'm especially proud of my 7th graders. They have written children's stories and illustrated them this week. On Monday they're going to read them to the 1st graders! It's incredibly adorable to look at their stories.

One of my 7th graders has written a story kind of like the princess and the frog, except the princess finally kisses the frog and the frog does NOT turn into a prince, he just says "Sorry, I lied to you". It's kind of funny. But the best part is that one day, this kid was being a little silly, and so I was playing around with him and started reading his story in a little kid voice and in Spanish (even though he wrote it in English). And so every day for the past 3 days, he's been having me tell him his story in Spanish. It's been fantastic! First off, I did not realize just how improved my Spanish is now in comparison to when I arrived here. Secondly, I learned so many new words!

I've decided that when I go home, I'm going to make an effort to speak with Hispanic people in Spanish to keep up my language skills. The only way to improve them is to practice and I don't want to lose what I've gained so far.

The worst part about it all is that I can hardly even remember this week. It was 5 days of pain and sickness and stress... and I don't remember teaching. It was one of those weeks where you reach Saturday and wonder where Monday went. I will say, though, that today was really encouraging. I had multiple students from different classes tell me that I impacted their spiritual life this year more than any other person. I know I spent a lot of time pouring into them, but I have a hard time visualizing myself outside of my walls. I only see what happens inside of my English class and I love when God gives me the bigger picture. He typically shows it to me when I am most desperately feeling inadequate and He knows that the bigger picture will give me hope.

To be honest--I've cried more frequently this week than any other week that I've been here. I've been crying over physical pain, stress, sorrow, and loneliness. It's been difficult. Monday is my last day of teaching, then 3 days of finals and... nothing. It just ends, suddenly. When I took Spanish classes in high school and college, they always taught me that the word "suddenly" was "de repente" in Spanish. But here, the kids all say "de la nada" which means "out of nowhere". That's what it feels like. One more day of teaching, 3 days of finals... de la nada. I know that we build up to this point. I know that all year long we know it's coming--but do teachers go through heartache every year in order to say goodbye? Next week is going to probably be more tears as I have to officially say goodbye--and mean it. I'm not coming back next year, and whenever I do return, I have no idea who will still be at this school since these kids never seem to stay in one place long enough.

So there it is--that's my life. It's a depressingly slow process of letting go. Nobody said the end was easy, but for once, I think I'll actually want to get on the plane in June. Typically, I never want to get on the plane to go home. But if every day is going to be so sad, I might be welcoming it with open arms.

buenas noches,
Melissa

Paso de gigante

I could write about my day and all the wonderful things my students did and all the greatness that Jesus showed me... but I'm too excited about what just happened in the last 1/2 hour, so we'll start there. Prepare yourselves...

I just submitted a book proposal to Zondervan Publishers!

I'm not even kidding. I've only written like... bits and pieces of 8 chapters in a book reflecting on this year of my life and all that God has shown me and taught me--but I decided to take a huge step and submit a book proposal. So... there it is. Whether or not something comes of it is entirely different. And yes, I will be submitting to multiple companies as time goes on. I just needed to muster up my courage and get one done!

Moving on to the rest of my life: I have another miracle to report. This year has been full of miraculous works and God astounds me beyond anything I ever imagined possible. Dengue is supposed to wipe a person out and make them bed-ridden. It's "breakbone fever" and it lasts for WEEKS. But no--I have approximately 63 people (that I know of) who have prayed for me in the past 5 days. And you know what? God answers. It all started Friday, it peaked Saturday and Sunday when I had chills, hallucinations, sweats, and extreme pain. Monday I could hardly walk and was exhausted and in a lot of pain. Yesterday I was extremely stiff, but walking better. Today I can move freely, have no headache, no pain behind my eyes, have full energy, and only bone pain.

God is SO good. There was no way He was going to let some mosquito get between me and my kids the last 2 weeks of school. And He is SO good to answer prayers. Thank you, all you who prayed, for taking the time to speak on my behalf. I do not deserve these blessings, but I freely welcome them. I should be lying in misery in my bed instead of sitting up wide awake with only some minor discomfort.

So this is my life: 3 more teaching days, then 3 days of finals... an almost healed body by the graces of God... and a submitted book proposal. I swear, my life will never go back to being "normal". It's officially going to be crazy from now until death (and to be honest--I like it that way). Thank you, Jesus, for stepping and shaking things up day after day after day.

I'd get so bored without Christ.

buenas noches,
Melissa

Dolor y la resurrección

Have you ever thought about what it was like for Jesus to walk around after he got raised from the dead? I mean, seriously, it could not have been a walk in the park. First off--those bones were dead. Secondly--they did nothing for 3 days. Thirdly--don't you think all his limbs would be asleep and tingly at first? How much pain and giggles would that be?

I was thinking about this earlier while sitting at my desk with my head down. The pain of dengue is one that I never want to repeat. Ever. I'm managing and I know it's not as bad as it could be, but I walk like a drunk dinosaur and sometimes I have to close my eyes and imagine myself in a different place to just pretend I'm not feeling the pain I'm feeling. My legs often feel like I'm a resurrected body coming from the grave and I'm trying to shove life back into them. And this is where my thought came from--I know Jesus was fully God, but He was also fully man and with that, aren't there certain laws of physics He abided by?

Or did He just get the VIP privilege of skipping all that because He's Jehovah?

As is typical of my character in most desolate scenarios, I made fun of my disposition today multiple times. And as typical of my character, I did so in song form. Here are some of my "Dengue Songs" (to be released on CD whenever someone decides they're worth publishing):

(sung to the tune of "Renegade")
Oh, mama, I'm in fear for my life from the diseased mosquitos
Dengue is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long.


(sung to the tune of "Walk the Dinosaur")
Look out now, clear the floor! Dengue makes me walk the Dinosaur.
note: my students prompted this at one point because I was circulating the classroom with papers under my armpits, so my forearms and hands were dangling like T-rex hands, and I was walking like a really really old person, so a few affectionately called me "La dinosauria"

(sung to the tune of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow")
Someday, when I don't have dengue, I'll have all the energy that I need to chase you and pin you down.
note: this was in response to a student grabbing a few items and running away saying "Come catch me!" and then giggling their pants off when I moved slower than molasses towards them.


Now that I'm done reminiscing about my physical ailments--I will say that today was not so terrible. It had its moments of struggle, but I love my job. And loving my job makes up for the trials. And on top of it, I'm in love with my students, so it's a win-win every day. And on top of all of that, they entertain me! I laughed so much today.

If you've been praying for me: thank you. I know that there has been miraculous works in my body because Dengue fever wipes a person out and my energy, though partially stifled, has been good and sustainable. And if you've been praying for my students: I quadrouply thank you. They are focused and not complaining and are not challenging the value in my activities even though we're so close to the end. God is most certainly answering your prayers.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day. My headache came back today (it went away after my fever broke this weekend), so I don't know what tomorrow will do to me. But I do know that God is providing me with His strength, so no matter what comes, I will survive.

bendiciones,
Melissa

El segundo día

Thank you, to anyone who has prayed for me--my fever broke this morning! At 4am, I was sweating and tossing and turning in my sleep. I had been hallucinating about a dog in my bedroom barking at me and my heart was racing. Every time I opened my eyes, my eyes would roll to the left as if the room were spinning.

But I woke up at 7 am feeling better. I'm still in a lot of pain, but the fever is all gone! My headache is not so bad, though my eyes are killing me. It feels like someone has their thumbs inside of my head and they are trying to push my eyeballs outward. Also, my legs feel like someone else tried to shove a steel rod down the middle of the shin bones. And all of my muscles feel like someone else has been making them into beef jerky...

It sounds like I have 3 very mean people torturing my body.

Today I was forced to surrender. I was forced to lay down and relax and listen to what the Lord had to say. Emily had to help me walk and feed me and I was not able to do anything on my own strength. Today I had no option but to let the Lord love me and care for me.

Emily read A Tale of Three Kings to me this morning. It was wonderful. When I'm fully coherent and recovered and back at home, I plan on reading it again. It was an at-length discussion on brokenness and the tale of Saul, David, and Absalom. What I really enjoyed about it was the honesty of the figure David. For me, it always seems like he's put on this pedestal. David, Moses, Abraham... they all seem to be these high and mighty awesome men--but really... they were broken people just like us. It was God within them that made them great. They were just willing servants.

We also listened to a Graham Cooke sermon. That man never disappoints me. He at one point was discussing the romance of God and man in addition to the role of Satan in this war on Earth, and he said:

I make no secret of the fact that I hate the enemy with an intensity that I can't articulate. I have a passion for Jesus and a hatred of the devil and all his works. I want to make him bleed. I want to make him pay. Isaiah 61 says that you cannot have favor without vengeance. The two go together. It is impossible to walk in the favor of God and not be able to get revenge on the enemy. Jesus talked about a year of favor and a day of vengeance. What does vengeance look like? Well for me it looks like this: that everywhere in your life where the enemy has troubled you, wronged you, or victimized you--God is not only going to set your free from that, He is going to give you a ministry in the very area where you were once victimized so that every time you set someone free from what you were one a victim of, that's revenge... I'm going to find someone who is oppressed by the same things I used to be. And I am going to have such intense pleasure setting them free.

The congregation was laughing hysterically. But he has a point--many of my students struggle with the same things I struggled through in high school. And many of them have benefited from me being in their life. So really, it's a slap in Satan's face. I really enjoyed the second half of what he had to say, though:

Your testimony is the story of how God's favor impacted your life and turned you into another man and another woman and because He's done it for me, I'm here in front of you saying He will definitely do it for you. I know that I can pray for you and something will occur. Why? I have favor. And my favor allows me to get revenge. This is what it means to be the "beloved": payback. Stop waiting for a sign: Jesus is the sign. Stop waiting for God to do something: He has. He put you into Jesus. You got some slack to take up in that revelation. In your experience--God's already done something. Understand that this is about romance. So what does that mean? It means God is making a move on you. He's putting on the moves. You're in Christ and the romance has begun. You have to find your place in it, 'cause what if the next move is yours?

I think our world has framed us to believe specific lies about God. This is not a new revelation--but I mean in particular to these ideas. It has framed us to believe that we are not special or a beloved one. It also frames us to not judge others and in turn to believe that God is all loving and not all just (or a judge). But the truth is that there will be a judgment day. And on that day, we will be raised and we will be reunited with Christ, our groom, as the beloved, and we will be avenged. Justice is coming--and while that used to scare me a long time ago? It is so comforting now.

I think I'm going to start keeping a prayer journal again because God has been answering prayers left and right all year and I really don't give Him as much credit as I ought to. My fever broke last night when Dengue fever is supposed to last for days if not weeks, my brother just told me he will be in Colorado when I return home, but his car will be at the house for my use (I was freaking about having no transportation), and I was able to Skype with my mom today for Mother's Day even though I thought I wouldn't. Seriously--God is so great!

buenas noches,

Melissa

Dengue

We were doing so well, weren't we? Yea, I got blown up by an oven, run into by a horse, busted a toe, and threw out my back--but we'd avoided Dengue...

Until now. Today I woke up with stiffness and pain in every single muscle in my body. Emily was a sweetheart and massaged my back for like an hour in the morning. At around noon I felt really tired and dizzy so I went to nap, but really what it turned into was 3 hours of a nasty fever with cold chills that felt like seizures because I was shaking so much.

But you know what? Emily's the best mom ever. She made me homemade chicken noodle soup. That's right. From scratch. And she made me tea. And she got me medicine. And she gave me her Gatorade.

I love that woman. I'm feeling much more functional now. From the research I've done, supposedly it takes weeks to get over Dengue--but the fever doesn't last too long. Hopefully this won't take me out this week. I really want to be with my kids and enjoy our last week together.

While doing my research, and talking with Chris, we discovered the hemorrhaging strand of Dengue and I got a little bit dramatic about the possibility of death (no worries, I'm not dying). But I sometimes can't wrap my head around the reality of life here. In the States, I wake up to a soar throat and pain in my back and don't think twice. Here? It could be hemorrhaging Dengue...

But God has been faithful. He has been good to protect me all this time and I know He will continue to see me through. In times of trial, He is proved strong. I have no reason to worry.

bendiciones,
Melissa

Terminada

My back feels like a sheet of bedrock. The tension of the past two days has been insane--and it's over! I usually don't remember the phrase "Thank God, it's Friday!" but today I repeated it over and over and over. Yesterday was exhausting from start to end--and then I played another staff/parents Basketball game against the Varsity girls' team.

This morning, however, started off wonderfully. I had the most juicy, delectable grapefruit of my life. I am unashamedly going to be a fruit snob when I go home in June.

I haven't been feeling like a "teacher" these past two weeks. I've been feeling more like a friend or a mentor, but not like I was actually teaching anything substantial--and I know they were learning and we were accomplishing things, but the feeling of success was just missing. I realized today that all of my planning periods have been spent grading this huge pile of work that has been bogging me down for about a month.

But today I spent both planning periods creating the final for my 8th graders and I cannot tell you just how tickled the teacher in me is. It's so teacher-y it's not even funny. When it's finished, it will be a 14 page packet where the student is doing a character analysis of themselves. They are going to pretend like a novel has been written about their 8th grade year and they are the main character. They will be reflecting on change, disappointments, successes, relationships, spiritual growth, and also doing a course and interdisciplinary synthesis where they focus on the themes and lessons of the literature in my course and also how these ideas are transferable to their other classes.

I honestly felt like I was back in my grad education classes creating another unit plan for a methods class. But--the feeling of accomplishment still has not left my bones. And on top of it all--they are going to benefit in ways they won't even know from doing this project. Interdisciplinary synthesis is one of those things that always seems kind of scary and, when you're doing it, it seems almost impossible--but when you're done? You realize that everything is connected and everything has its purpose.

This next week is going to be a challenge, I know, because it's the last full week of classes. It was hard to keep all of my students engaged and focused. But I won't worry about that yet... I have a weekend full of rest ahead of me!

buenas noches,
Melissa

El final

Yesterday was fun. After school the teachers and staff played a basketball game against the JV teams (gender specific). We "ladies" beat the "girls", but only because we got lucky in the 4th quarter.

And yesterday, God answered your prayers for those of you who read Monday's post and prayed over my students. Yesterday and today they listened. They worked. Learning took place. These past two days have restored my joy and hope in my classroom.

Today my 10th graders gave their last official speeches. Their ending speeches for the semester were toasts and we had a pretend banquet. It was beautiful. They made 1 of 4 toasts (of their choice), either a toast for a wedding, birthday, retirement/promotion, or award. Some of them got dressed up for extra credit and we pushed the desks together to make a long pretend table. We even had cups with soda in them to "clink" together at the end of every toast.

Some of their speeches were so beautiful and heart-felt that I almost cried. I am so proud of them and how far they have come as a class this year both in their relationships and in their education.

Tomorrow and Friday are work days for my students in my classes. Nothing is being taught anymore--everything they need to know from me they have already gained. It's all creation now and proving that they retained what was taught. I go back and forth almost daily about this being the end of the year--some days I'm excited and some days I'm downright depressed. I have 8 more teaching days and at any given moment it makes me want to laugh or cry.

buenas noches,
Melissa

Fracaso

I have never felt like more of a failure in my life. There are 10 more instructional teaching days after today and the students know it. They've tapped out. It's like it's summer vacation. But I have still have plans. I'm not one of those teachers that says "Oh, two more weeks? Let's watch movies." No.

I did not become a teacher to entertain students. I got a certification and license to teach so that I could mold the future. I paid my time and learned every skill I could learn so that I could help students grow in knowledge and talents to go be effective citizens.

And it's days like these that make me feel like it was all a waste. Days when every student says "why do we have to do this"? or "can't we do something fun?". How do you not let that get to you? How do you rally them up when emotion and logical argument don't work? When positive reinforcement is ignored? How do you not feel slightly offended when an activity you spent hours creating is received with groans and anger?

I know that it's not my job to make them love my subject. I don't care if they ever love English. But I cannot even describe how frustrating it was today to feel like I was pulling reigns on horses making them walk down a path they didn't want to walk down. And that's 22 horses at one time.

That's it--I've stopped being a teacher and have become a cowboy. I was herding animals today.

What has become of me? What has become of my classroom? No matter the day or the terrible things that happened to them outside of my classroom, they used to come in and settle down and breathe. After breathing they would give me a shot. But no--no chances today. 

I've replanned everything tonight that I tried to do yesterday. We are taking everything at a new angle and I'm going to be open and honest with them about how I feel. They respond positively when I'm raw and honest. When I openly say that their behavior makes me feel worthless, their behavior immediately changes. I am so grateful that God has given me strong relationships so that they respect my feelings.

I am praying that tomorrow is received so much better than today because I don't know how I would handle another day like this one. And on top of it all, I really do have 1 final activity and project that I think is imperative for their development as students and as young adults. I would greatly appreciate any of your prayers too because these kids need to focus. They have serious tests coming up in other subjects and they can't afford to bomb their finals.

buenas noches,
Melissa

Indigno

Oh man, today was GOOD. I think the best part is that I had alone time to just spend in worship and prayer. I've missed that. It was like every breathing hour this past week was preparing for the carnival or praying about the carnival. But no time to just sit in awe of Jesus.

So after a long day of prayer and worship and talking with Emily and eventually grading a huge stack of papers, I cranked up David Crowder on my Itunes and danced like a crazy person. I haven't done this in awhile (I mean, I've danced around to songs... but dancing for the Lord). I blared "Undignified" and put it on repeat while breaking a sweat and going crazy. If you have not heard this song before, you can access it here and thank me later!

Anyway, I got a little (ok, a lot) silly and raced my heart up like a crazy person, but it felt so good. I really hope that in heaven everyone jumps and dances at the joy they have in Christ so I stop being that outcast who has to dance in her room. I mean, really--why do people get to dance on top of each other in clubs but Christians can't dance for joy out of their love for Jesus? Lame.

So here it is, my outward rejection of the norms of worship. Here is my unashamed, undignified joy.

buenas noches,
Melissa

Duelo

When my grandfather died, I was in the 6th grade and I didn't really understand the impact. It was a phone call and I was shipped off to a friend's house to play. I think I thought it didn't matter that much. I still had grandma and my life kept going.

When my grandmother died, I was a week away from going to Africa. I was working as a lifeguard from sun-up to sun-down and it was another phone call. I went to work that day anyway. I got sent home early because I kept drifting off into daydream land where memories flooded me. I went home and soaked my pillow in tears trying to figure out how to live without a grandmother and how to take care of my own mother. But then a week later I got on a plane and served African children at an orphanage.

When Chris's father died in March, I was here in Bolivia. It was another phone call. But this time it was like the whole world was standing still, waiting for me to breathe. And I didn't teach the rest of the day. I didn't teach the next day either and that night I booked a flight home. And while I was there I was so preoccupied with Chris and wanting to help him and love him and comfort him that I really didn't think much about the loss of his father in my own life.

I used to make excuses and say that I was never allowed to grieve. You know--when we moved from Maryland to Pennsylvania and I had to start a new school year and I didn't have time to miss my old friends. And when my brother went off to college and I got really sick and didn't have time to think about how much I missed him. And when grandpa and grandma died and I had extenuating circumstances that didn't really let me grieve.

But I realized tonight that it's not that I haven't been able to--it's that I won't let myself. I started crying earlier just thinking about Chris's father and how much I miss him and how sad it makes me that I will never see him again on this earth. I pulled up a picture of him and stared at it, petting his face with my finger. And that's when I realized that whenever there's pain in my life or some sort of pressing issue--I avoid it. I get absorbed in something else and pour my energies into that so that I don't have to deal with reality.

So, here I am, actively pouring my energy into dealing with reality. I am actively thinking about all of the things Chris's father will never experience and how many times I will never hear his voice. And maybe that sounds off-the-wall crazy, but it's helping. It's helping me to appreciate what he's left behind. I adore his wife and I am so glad she gets to be my mother-in-law. And she's still here and I still get to see her and I still get to hear her voice and she'll still be able to be at my wedding. And, of course, I still have my family. I still get to talk with them and be loved by them.

I was reading earlier from the first book of John and I thought to myself that the same principal of my refusal to grieve is applied to the love of God. I don't let myself accept the bad and I don't let myself accept the good. I try to live in this neutral place where nothing can hurt me because I start thinking: if I get too much good, I'll be let down and bad is just bad... so really, I'm safe if I stay in the middle, right? I'll just be like Switzerland. The people on Switzerland postcards always look so happy.

But oh what malignant LIES those are. How many times in my life has Jesus blessed me beyond belief? And how many times has He carried me through trial and pain? And how many times have I found that life within His presence is incredible joy no matter the circumstances? The number is not quantifiable. And yet there I found myself setting up the walls around my heart brick by brick, working to keep the sorrow at bay.

Along with every other possible resolution I've created for myself while being down here, I'm adding to the list the resolution to openly embrace sorrow. No, I'm not going to run knee-deep into depression or ask the Lord to strike me with pain... but I refuse to avoid it. Sweeping the dirt under the rug does not make the house clean--it makes dust bunnies. And we all know how quickly bunnies reproduce.

buenas noches,
Melissa

Carnaval y las secuelas

I wept out of gratitude this morning. I can't stop thinking about just how good Jesus is. Every single one of my students who had volunteered to bring things brought an abundance. We had left over prizes and food. My kids made over 2,000 Bolivianos (just over $300 USD). And--we had FUN.

I spent 5th-7th periods today prepping for this thing and my muscles got tighter and tighter as time went on. I could not fall asleep last night and I woke up multiple times. At some points I thought I was going to throw up from all the stress. But then today just went so smoothly. They showed up, brought their things, made their posters, set up their booths and games, the bell rang at 3pm and... the show went on. At around 3:30 I finally was done with all of the administrative tasks of running the festival and I got to enjoy myself. I even changed into gym shorts and sat in the dunk tank for a few rounds:

I am beyond proud of them. I am also beyond exhausted. All of the muscles in my body feel like they are stretched thin and sore. Here are a few more shots of the carnival:

buenas noches,
Melissa