I Choose Joy

This corner has been quiet for more than a year now. Life sometimes takes those turns, when continuing to doggie paddle is simply all you can do for a while. This year rather than teaching full time, my title includes only Mom. And there is plenty to keep me occupied in that, though there are days that it seems I feel a need to add to that title to somehow justify what I do.

This weekend our Saturday included a trip up the mountain to Esquela Sergio palacios for an “end-of-the-year-because-you-can-no-longer-call-it-graduation” celebration. We have worked there for the past several years along with my brother’s Rotary group and a group called Green Hearts who help teach English. They wanted hubby to be Santa and pass out the gifts from Rotary. We got home in time to quickly get lunch for our kids and Jocelyn, (a girl from church whose Mom was at an adult-ed class trying to get her high school diploma) who had accompanied us home before shuffling them off to play practice at church. The shuffle occurred in two rounds as davita came late from soccer practice. A few chores and then off to pick them up with a lunch for davita in hand as she hadn’t eaten and the next thing on the agenda was choir practice. Set a non-working fridge on the back porch, move everything to the temporary replacement and then remember we are teaching children’s church tomorrow. Yes, there’s that and dinner and family devotions and I’ll finish it tomorrow though I will regret it.
sometimes the blessing of more time only makes it seem I accomplish less.

So as i adjust to this new season i am learning to do what it says in “the Family Blessing” ( a great book which talks about blessing our kids with scripture) I am learning to embrace the now-ness of life. …”too often, what flavors each day disappears in the anticiptation of what’s to come. It’s a little like longing for chocolate chip ice cream when butter pecan is still melting in your mouth. Each stage brings its own treasures, gifts that can only be enjoyed for that season. Throw your arms around today, and cherish the gifts it brings.”

Yes, our family is still in Honduras in the same ministry. It’s just that I’ve become mother of 60 very rambunctious middle schoolers and find myself just treading water. After considering taking on the home ec position, I suddenly found myself asked, “Can you start soon, like tomorrow?” Each week has been an enlightening adventure as I get adjusted to the ups and downs of 7th and 8th grade drama and strive to plan a week that’s plenty full of activity. Down time with middle schoolers is a definite problem. And just when  you think you’ve explained every eventuality of a recipe, they find a new mistake to make. In the end I have to fuss at them to clean up their mess. I’ve spent lots of lunch periods with seventh grade boys in detention. At least I know all their names. Some of them make me laugh and others make me want to cry. Next week is our field trip to the fabric store (Lord help me).

As I walked to kids to school this morning through our parent parking lot I was reminded how close we are to elections. Several cars were flying their various party’s flags. One is red with a white stripe, another is blue with a white star. Often the cars have bumper  stickers and big posters in the windows. It’s a heated contest with three parties and nine candidates!

Everyone seems to be on edge as they are unsure what the result will be. Election day is Sunday-a day most people are free to vote. Some are predicting chaos on Saturday-perhaps a rush on grocery stores anticipating protests that will keep people away from the markets. Others say there will be tension after as people claim foul play against their candidate. Bilingual schools like ours are needing to assess whether a couple of extra days off might be in order-just in case. Our prayer during family devotions has been for a peaceful transition and wise leaders. Politics can turn anyone cynical as they listen to candidates who promise the moon and deliver only frustration. God is STILL in control.

For those of us who are merely residents and not citizens, we wait to see how it will all play out. Sunday for us means a graduation at church in the Mensajeres/Embasadores programs. Gabe is working on reciting his verses in Spanish. Davita has worked on several service projects, but may fall short of graduation to a new level this time.

Pray with us for the elections and for God’s will to be accomplished here in Honduras.

So it seems that I am being forced into a new groove this year. And God just must laugh because the new groove is the old one with a twist. When we moved here to Central America and to this school ministry it was quite an adjustment.  After years of teaching my own kids at home it was hard to just have them gone all day and share the quiet space with the two littlest ones. Now even these two have grown enough to join their siblings and it is the right thing for our family for now. They are learning Spanish, and how to make their way as a minority, yet still within a very sheltered environment.

As I looked at this school I had wondered, “God why did you bring me here? Him, yes. My kids, ok. But me? I really never wanted to be a teacher. I remember looking at the courses offered in the colleges I toured as a Senior and thinking, “All that’s here for a woman is teaching and nursing and I don’t want either of those.” So I majored in Broadcast Communications-super practical. But for 5 years while we lived in Asia it was an excellent fit as I recorded for short wave radio. Later, in small town Tennessee, I got to narrate the Christmas play and someone in the industry asked why I didn’t do voice work. (Yeah with 7 kids I have LOTS of free time.) But now the new door that is opening involves what I’ve done for more than 25 years-home management.

Perhaps the stint as an English teacher during summer school was His way of softening me up. Hubby laughed when I groaned over having to plan for 5 different levels of English classes. “You told me, ‘I could do that’ and now you get a chance,” he reminded me. Be careful of flippant comments.

So now I cautiously extend my neck to check out this new opportunity. I don’t really have a desire for a “career” as a teacher. And I know kids can absolutely drive you crazy. But I have asked God to give me a heart for these people and this place, and that’s difficult to achieve if you’re not willing to really invest. So for now I am planning, praying… hesitantly stepping out.

We had a family outing to a familiar tourist spot this last weekend, but it had a different twist because it was the “Day of the Bible” and there were parades in Valle to commemorate the event. It was fun to watch the bands-which were noticeably all percussion instuments and majorette type girls. Apparently because most schools don’t have access to expensive instruments and teachers for a great variety, they tend to be just percussion- bells, and drums with a few other noisemakers thrown in. We noticed several flags for countries in Central and South America as well as the US flag and the Bible flag ( I remember looking at that one as we pledged each week in Awana.

I wondered how many of those kids realized the significance of the event. Was it just another opportunity to compete and receive a prize or did they care about God’s word? What if we had a similar parade in the US? Would there be people to protest? Would they even let public school kids participate in the first place?

We enjoyed the new murals, Made of recycled materials that have been cemented into mosaic pictures on the walls. One of the local schools here has a similar mural and we’d like to see one at the Limones school where we have worked.

I used some birthday money to buy a Honduran nativity. Funny how each country adopts the crèche to resemble their own local style. My shepherd is wearing a colorful hat with earflaps and Mary and Joseph definitely look Latino.

We finished our day at a favorite restaurant with one of the new families eating “plato tipico”-typical Honduran food which includes grilled meat, tortillas, rice, refried red beans, platano , avocado, and a fresh salsa called “chismol.” It’s a treat because I don’t cook like this at home. The little girls prefer the beans and cheese that come in a little pottery bowl served over a tiny fire to keep them warm. (Traditionally would be charcoal but these days its a sterno can).

Today I’m gearing up for a new month of children’s church. We’ve reached the New Testament and this week our story is Jesus choosing the disciples. I wanted to translate the song “Fishers of Men” but it becomes” Pescadores de los hombres” and I think it’s a bit of a mouthful. Pray for us as we start again.

I believe the original game was Frisbee football, but by the time we arrived it included a soccer ball on one end. Our older kids started out just playing soccer on the sidelines, but there happened to be a rather large mud puddle close to the goal. Pretty soon the Frisbee was over and became a game of “accidentally” splashing mud, then throwing mudballs, and finally coating each other in it. The end result was a son coated in mud who needed to go home and change before our picnic dinner so he wouldn’t freeze. He came back mostly clean, though we laughed at the dirt still caked in one ear. “Well she just gave me two minutes to change!” he defended himself.

This past weekend was Independence Day here in Honduras, so we had planned a picnic with several families on the Monday holiday. We’ve had almost continuous rain here for the past month. The little girls love to play in the front yard making mud pies and collecting tadpoles. Their chalk drawings disappear almost daily, so they have a clean slate. It’s been fun to have them spend so much time playing with the neighbors outside, but it has made for a lot of wet clothes and mopping up mud.

The evening ended at the playground with a game of “capture the gummies”-like capture the flag, but when you capture a gummy from your team’s bowl you get to eat it. These are the days that make you glad to live life small on a mountain in Central America. Though we spend most of our time here in this tiny community, the small things are truly enjoyable.

Ever get that urge to laugh at the wrong time? Well it happened to me on Sunday.

It’s hard to imagine until you have attended our church. We are absolutely bursting at the seams. Our most recent record was 232 people. And we meet on a porch…and a living room, and dining room, and foyer…and we’re spilling over into the rest of our gracious pastor’s home. While permits and construction on our new building inch along we continue to grow. The result is that we’re all squeezed in as tight as one can fit the chairs. And the Latino Baptist format requires that you stand for every song and scripture reading which means jostling to your feet without knocking over the person next to you.

On Sunday we lost our “ideal” seats to another gringo couple who beat us to them. So we were forced to take what was left. I was squashed between hubby and a rather broad shouldered young man named Marlon. They teased about squeezing in tight. Between them and the fact that the chair for the aisle in the opposite direction was almost touching my knees, I felt rather claustrophobic. And then there’s the fact that the Spanish language can be so polite. The person up front announced, “puede sentarse” which means essentially, “can you please sit?” and it just slipped out before I could stop, “no puedo!” “I can’t!” Well, unfortunately several people around me have rather good hearing and I set off a little ripple of laughter right before prayer…

Funny how when we want a taste of home that’s where we call. “Mom, how do you make your…..” I’ve done it myself more often than I could count. Now my boys on their own will call and ask me. And I am glad that they think of home. All those nights around the table, hours spent in the kitchen and even the arguments over whose turn it was for dishes. Those things are all a part of who they are today.

While I send them recipies and suggestions for buying groceries on the cheap, I make sure to include some scripture. I’m so grateful for my friend Deb who aquainted us all with her Mom’s in Touch form of scripture prayer for our kids. I’m trying to remember to include one of those as an encouragement and blessing for my kids.

Over the summer, it was my daughter who brought me a lunch at school. Several times she included a little note with it and I was on the receiving end of those thoughts so I know how much they are appreciated.

Me recipies are not classics. Not complicated or award winning in their presentation. But a comfortable reminder of life lived together and the love we share.

It’s funny how sometimes a certain smell or a song can take your mind to another place and time. Sunday, as we sat in our little church here on a mountain in Central America, I was suddenly back in Chicago, in a classroom that existed over 25 years ago.

Dr. James taught us the book of Hebrews (some irony there). Every day as we began class, he would ask in that deep voice that ended in a whistle (like gopher in the Winnie the Pooh series) if someone had a favorite hymn request for the day. Alan liked to chose ones where the old English words were a mystery. What’s a bulwark anyways, Sir? Then there was always the guy who thought himself funny choosing “God of Concrete” because it sounded like the Underdog theme song. But one of my favorites was “Wonderful the Matchless Grace of Jesus.”

I had grown up with these hymns as a kid. Moving in high school, our new church sang fewer hymns. Gone were the Sunday nights when the older folks in the congregation called out favorites and we were aquainted with the classics, rich in theology. Singing them again as a young adult in Bible school was like going back. And now here, over twenty-five years later, even in Spanish, the words and blend of voices were a treat.

Suddenly I was that young kid again whose only care was doing well on exams. I knew my role and the expectations of those around me. True, my finances were limited, but so were those of most of the other kids and having peers after being the oldest one in our church’s youth group was great. There were always enough members of the glee club in class to carry out the harmony. I didn’t realize then how much of a treat it would be, but it’s a memory that remains and comes to the forefront to be enjoyed over and over again.

That matchless grace has carried us halfway round the world and back again. Through building a business only to lose it. Through the ups and downs of raising 8 beautiful gifts. Hearing the melody about His matchless grace still gives me chills. And 25+ years later I still praise His name.

We were headed home from the airport with new and returning teachers today. As our mountain came into view I turned to the young boy behind me and said, “Caleb, do you see the statue of Jesus with the big Coca Cola sign underneath? That’s our mountain.” From up front I heard Sara say, “Yep, we’re headed to the ‘real thing,’” and the innuendo wasn’t lost on me. How many in this country know the ‘real thing?’ Every day you’ll see laborers walking from the pulperias with a bottle of coke to accompany lunch. Before they eat, do they talk to the “real thing?”

One year, as we were coming back from a visit to the states, our bus came to a dead stop in traffic. A soda truck had overturned in the road, blocking traffic both directions. As the harried driver tried to negotiate with police, people were flooding the street, coming from who knows where in this seemingly deserted stretch, to grab a 3 liter bottle of soda that had spilled from the truck. Bottles rolled off into the ditch on both sides of the road and people were running to collect their loot.  A little boy walked past us tipping a bottle to his lips and taking a deep swig as he walked past. Kids shouted with joy as they lugged off as many free bottles as they could carry. So much joy over a  bottle of fizzy sugar water because it was free for the taking.

What if people actually got that excited over the possibility of a relationship with the “real thing?” How is it that Coke has done a better job of marketing their product than we as Christians do about spreading the gospel? It’s there, free for the taking. The REAL THING. Not a temporary sugar and caffeine high, but something that saves and lasts. How excited am I to introduce others to the real thing?