"Tell me who a missionary is"

When I was in elementary school, I went every week to Good News Club. We sang a song there, “tell me who a missionary is, tell me what a missionary does, tell me where a missionary goes, tell me, tell me. . . Some are doctors, some can fly a plane, some help farmers grow a crop of grain, some learn other languages to be preachers, teachers” I loved hearing missionary stories, and reading missionary biographies. But I never thought I would be a missionary.

Now, I’m going to another country to share God’s love with street children. I’ll be one of those who “learn other languages to be . . . teachers”. I’m raising support and my prayer cards are on the refrigerators of many people.

And yet, I don’t think of myself as a missionary. In my mind, I’m not qualified to be a missionary. I feel like missionaries should be “super Christians”, Christians who are selfless, always have their priorities straight, and have powerful prayer lives. In my mind, missionaries are bold evangelists, eagerly sharing the good news of Jesus verbally. They spend their lives on the mission field. But me? I’m just a girl who loves Jesus, yes, but I have a long way to go in my walk with him. Unless someone asks me about my faith, I’m unlikely to broach the subject. And I’m just planning on spending 2 years in Colombia.

Of course, on one level, I know my assumptions about missionaries are wrong. There are no perfect people, and God uses us all, His works in progress, for His glory. But being a missionary seems like such a big responsibility, and it’s not a title I feel like I live up to.

I have a friend, (who incidentally is a missionary in Canada now, preparing to go to Indonesia) who was a Christian Ministries major, with a math minor when I met him in college. At the time he said we should all be Christian ministry majors first, followed by a minor in whatever. He didn’t literally mean we should all switch majors, and what he said stuck with me. As Christ-followers, whatever we are called to do should be done for Jesus (“and whatsoever ye do, do it heartily as to the Lord, and not unto men,. . . for you serve the Lord Christ” Colossians 3:23&24) God can, and will, get the glory for any act we do.

So, ultimately, when I’m in Colombia whether I call myself a missionary, or a volunteer, or simply a teacher at Luz y Vida school, doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I work with my whole heart, serving the Lord with dependence and humility, for His glory. And that will hold true for my whole life, no matter where I am and no matter what job I am doing. No matter what job title I have, I have the responsibility to be faithful with what God has given me, and my desire when I see Him is for Him to say, “well done, my good and faithful servant”.

Pittsburgh

My friend Steve and I went to Pittsburgh this weekend to visit our friend Lisa who is in law school there. I haven't been to Pittsburgh since I was a little kid, and had a negative impression of Pittsburgh for some reason, so I was pleasantly surprised. There were a lot of very likable things about Pittsburgh.

The Strip District, a historic market district, was full of fun ethnic grocery shores, gourmet chocolate shops, an entire store devoted to spices, just about any kind of food you can imagine, and St. Stanislaus, a catholic church. It was closed for mass, so we never saw the inside, but I liked photographing the gold roofs of the outside against the blue sky.

We also went up the Duquesne incline, which was built in 1877 and still uses wooden gears in the machinery! The woodwork inside the cars is pretty neat too. The view from the top, however, is what really makes it worth the $4 ticket.

Dinner was at Primanti Brothers, where I unfortunately did not get out my camera. But, despite the fact that french fries ON my sandwich sounded weird, I was assured that it was an authentically Pittsburgh experience, and it was pretty tasty. I followed up dinner with jasmine green tea with tapioca pearls, so I was a happy camper.

This morning I did get out my camera, because breakfast at Pamela's P&G diner was definitely deserving of a photo or 2, and worth the 1/2 hour (or longer) wait for a table. Supposedly it's the best place to get breakfast in Pittsburgh, and despite the fact that it's the only place I got breakfast in Pittsburgh, I think it might really deserve its reputation. My strawberry hotcakes were delicious. Next time my cousin and sister and I have crepe night, I think we need to try this: fruit, sour cream and brown sugar inside, topped with whipped cream. Yum.

We ended our trip with a visit to the Carnegie center, though we just went to an omnimax movie (pretty cool experience), and didn't visit the science center. Maybe next time. :)

World Next Door

I just discovered a new organization, via another blog. Check out their article on an orphanage for Ukranian boys with disabilities. It was heart-breaking and eye-opening. Read it, and then check out their website.

Here's their "about us" below. It made me smile. :)

World Next Door, Inc. is a not-for-profit organization based in Indianapolis, Indiana.

More than just a statistic.

Our mission is to use entertaining, thought-provoking and heart-breaking journalism to change ordinary people into wild-eyed revolutionaries and to unleash them on local and global issues of social injustice.

This website is part investigative newspaper, part travel magazine, part web journal. It’s like National Geographicmeets Bizarre Foods meets an online blog, all with a social justice focus (issues like poverty, hunger, AIDS, etc.).

Empty

This morning I still had 5 days left to get used to the idea of saying goodbye to my students, to finish reading the story my third graders were fascinated by, to keep my promises, to buy a good-bye gift for my reading students, to take lots of pictures. Or at least, so I thought. Then today, 10 minutes into my last class of the day, our principal asked all homeroom teachers to return to their classrooms, so I took my kids back to class, wondering what was going on. With 45 minutes left in the school day, they handed out papers to all the teachers, explaining that we were closing for the year due to an increase in flu symptoms at our school.

When I go back on Monday, the halls will be empty, but I'll have cupboards full of workbooks I told students they could take home with them at the end of the year, desks with the pencil cases and crayons I bought for my students still inside them, and books on hold at the library that I now have no reason to pick up.

It's hard to have so little closure. It would have been disappointing any year, but on a year when I'm leaving for good, it's really sad. I broke down and cried for awhile, then went to say good-bye. I stopped in room 213 first to say good bye to Dynamo, Thing 1, and Princess Fiona. When I told them I wouldn't be back next year, I wasn't the only one crying. All 3 of them were distressed. I told them I'd be back to visit in December, and that they would be just fine without me. I know it's true, but they didn't quite believe me.

I didn't tell the students in the other classes I was leaving. I had wanted them to know why I was leaving, and where I was going, but it seemed selfish to tell them if they were going to be that upset. I know when they come back next year, they'll notice I'm not there, they might even ask where I went, but they'll move on, and there probably won't be any tears.

It's hard to say good-bye. I worked at this school for 4 years, and I've known some of my students for that long. My favorite student my first year was a cute second grader with a smile that melted my heart. He was my most difficult student- he acted out, never did his homework, and was way behind my below grade level reading class. But, he was enthusiastic, he loved learning about new things, he was affectionate and funny. I watched him grow from a Spanish-only speaker to a confident bilingual student. I haven't taught him in the past 2 years, but I still see him around. Today I caught him on the way out of his classroom on his last day in elementary school to wish him luck in middle school. He still acts out and never does his homework, but he smiled at me when I wished him luck, and his smile still melts my heart. I'll miss him and so many other students who have brought me headaches and challenges, but even more joy, smiles, and laughter.

Arepa City

Spanish meet-up met at Arepa City, a new Venezuelan restaurant on 2nd street, on Tuesday.  I've been looking forward to trying it out since I saw it was opening back over Easter weekend.  I was not disappointed.  Not only was the food fun, different, and tasty, the price was right.  My bill came to $10.82 and I had an appetizer, dinner, and dessert.  Their specialty is arepas, a type of corn cake, which are popular in Venezuela and Colombia.  My arepa came stuffed with shredded flank steak, black beans, queso fresco, and fried plantain.  My appetizer was tostones, which are green plantains that are mashed, flattened into circles, and fried.  There were probably 6 different mayonnaise based dipping sauces for the tostones, chocolate mayo being the most unique and the avocado one probably my favorite.  For dessert I had the mocha flan, which was quite tasty.  

I'll have to go back again sometime before I leave.  (which, by the way is in exactly 4 weeks and 1 day, not that I'm keeping track or anything.)