10 point public bathroom rating scale

1. It's free
2. Door that closes and locks
3. Toilet has a seat
4. Toilet paper is available (only half point if it's outside the stall)
5. Toilet paper is free
6. Toilet flushes (only half point if you have to manually flush by dumping a bucket of water in)
7. Water to wash hands (half point bonus if there's hot water too)
8. Soap
9. Something to dry hands
10. hook/shelf for purse or coat

I'm thinking public bathrooms here average somewhere around 7.5.

I think the most bizarre bathroom I've ever used was in the jungle in Ecuador. It was surprisingly a flush toilet, in the middle of the jungle (we hiked down a dirt road and forded a creek to get there), but there was no door on it. So, you just sat there, looking towards the path, and hoping no one appeared.

Flushing the toilet with a bucket of water from a 50 gallon barrel of water at the museum in Nicaragua was another "this would never happen in the States" experience. And, the vending machines selling toilet paper inside a public restroom I'd already paid to use here in Bogota were the most outrageous.

cupcakes

Naked in Paradise

I was at a Bible study last night, and we talked about God's original plan for creation, and how God's desire is for that original plan to be restored. Anyway, it got me thinking about what life was like in the garden of Eden. And I realized how far my own conception of reality differs from God's original plan.

God created a garden, a perfect place, where fruits grew easily and weeds didn't exist. The weather was perfect, or at least there was no rain. Then, he placed a couple, their marriage literally designed in heaven, in the garden. And there, they enjoyed God's creation, they enjoyed each other, they enjoyed God's presence. That's it. They were to care for the garden, be stewards of creation. But, there was no back-breaking toil. After all, with no sin in the world, no problems to fix, no weeds to kill, no people to help, what is there do do in a garden?

And then came the fall and something fundamental changed. That precious relationship between God and man was broken. Work became difficult. Trust was broken between Adam and Eve. Distractions from enjoying God and his creation arose- thorns, mosquitos, worries, fear. . .

That's the world I was born into. It's the world I know as true. But, beyond that is another truth. I live in this world, groaning to be restored. I am called, as a child of God, to be an instrument of his restoration in this world. But, God's original plan was his children, enjoying him, enjoying each other, enjoying creation.

And so often, I don't live like that. Especially lately I feel like I've forgotten how to truly rest. If I'm not working, my mind runs through what I could be doing, should be doing- creating more games for my students to practice their reading skills, writing donation request letters, cooking real food for my dinner, responding to e-mails. . . The list goes on and on and on. And so, I feel guilty for reading a book, watching a movie, going for a walk with no set destination, hanging out in the park on my way home. I'm not really resting, I'm procrastinating. The saying, "there's no rest for the wicked" comes to mind on days when I hurry from one task to another and then try to convince myself that my day was productive enough when I no longer have the energy to bite off another task.

But that's not the way God designed this world. He didn't plan to make humans work so we could solve the world's problems. His words were, "Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls" (Matthew 11:29). I sometimes see my "work" as the reason I am here. But that's not true. I am here to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever"

I don't want to neglect the work God has given me. I want to put my best into the things I do. But, I also don't want to hold myself to a standard God hasn't given me. I don't want to create tasks for myself to prove, I'm not even sure what- my worth? that what I do here is worthy of the support I receive? I want to learn to rest. To set aside the tasks that will be done later, knowing I have done what I need to for now, and to enjoy. Enjoy God. Enjoy friendships. Enjoy his creation.

Any tips for me as I try to learn what it truly means to rest?

A picnic on the floor

We sit on grocery bags on the floor that's coated in dust. Doris comments that we're eating a very American lunch, and other than the quatro, a grapefuit flavored soda, she's right- tuna fish sandwiches with tomato and cheese, carrot sticks and potato chips.

My heart is singing, and soon I'm singing out loud as I finish lunch, and move to scrubbing every inch of what will be my room with floral scented disinfectant. Two and a half hours later, the baseboard and walls have been wiped clean, the floor has been swept and mopped, and every bar on the windows has been dusted. I still need to wax the floor, wipe down the closet, and wash the windows. But that can wait for another day, because the sun's going down.

I'm moving! And I'm so excited about it. I don't have a move-in date yet. The electricity still hasn't been turned back on. We have no furniture in the house except for one bed, one table, and one dresser (though I think there's another bed, 4 chairs, and 2 comfy chairs waiting to be brought over). We have nothing for the kitchen. But, I have a set of house keys. :)

For the first time, I'll be living somewhere that's "mine". Well, not really mine, it's the ministry's, but I get to take a house and turn it into a home. I'm looking forward to furniture shopping (Jordi knows a great place to buy cheap 2nd hand furniture). I'm looking forward to arranging and decorating. I'm looking forward to inviting people over for dinner and game nights and Chinese New Year parties.

I can't wait. After-school plans for this week? Cleaning 2 more bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, the kitchen, dining room, living room and all-purpose room.

(And, this week Jessica gets back. Which is exciting in of itself. But, she's also bringing the camera I ordered online with her, so I should have photos to share soon!)

When I don't need to be strong

I was upstairs, doing some prep-work for my classes during my free period when I heard screams from downstairs. I went down to see if the teacher handling the situation needed an extra set of hands or someone to watch his students, but there was someone else already there. And, as I looked on as one of my students screamed in anger, struggling to get away from the teacher restraining him, and mumbling threats against another student, I broke down.

Usually, kids seem to explode in my class, and I'm the one with my arms wrapped around a little body, trying to speak calming words, reasoning words, and to stay far enough away from walls and chairs that they can't kick them. I have to be strong. I have to be calm.

But this day, someone else had it under control, and I didn't have to be strong. And seeing the rage that has a deep root that I don't even understand, my heart broke for my usually sweet little boy. There was nothing I could do, but pray. So I did. As I fought back tears, I sat half way up the stairs, praying for him and the anger that's so deep in his heart.

I don't know what to do. I don't even know how to deal with the surface issue of fighting, but the heart issues are much deeper. There's a deep hurt below the surface. So, I pray. Pray for wisdom and pray for the Holy Spirit to work in the hearts of my students. He's the only one who really knows what s going on in their hearts, and the only one who can change them from the inside out.

Innocence

One of my students sat on the park bench with me during recess, playing with my scarf. "Are you gay?" she asked, but with a note of confidence in her voice, as if she knew the answer. I was a bit confused where that question had come from and she repeated it. She repeated it once more, but the last time as a statement, instead of a question, and then, in all her 8 year old wisdom, she told me how she knew: "you like men."

Hoy es.... VIERNES!

Two things that brightened my day today:

Watching my students play soccer against the high school and older boys in the park. Sebas is an awesome goalie and blocked what looked like were sure to be goals. And then, my little guys scored against the big guys.

Making play-doh with the 1st and 2nd graders. Their enthusiasm to dump flour and salt in a bowl and stir, their faces when they sneaked a taste and realized just how much salt it had in it, their excitement that we used kool-aid to dye it (I haven't found food coloring here yet and kool-aid is cheap, efective, and has the added bonus of smelling good). Moments like those make me love what I do.

home. . .

I've been thinking lately about going home. Home being where my parents live, where I grew up, where I'm going to spend Christmas.

But, I wonder about the whole concept of home and what that means now. Because, of course, part of going back to where you grew up is going "home". But, I live here now. Maybe not permanently, but I have bought shoe polish and floor wax and a triple pack of toothpaste here, not really things you buy if you're somewhere short-term. I have a cell phone with a local number, I have Colombian insurance, when strangers on the street ask me for directions, I can at least point them in the right direction. I teach at a school here.

I say I'm going "home" when I'm out, and then I mean where I live now, but somehow, despite the fact that I live here, it doesn't really feel like home. Maybe due to how impermanent I know it is- it's pretty likely that within the next month I'll be moving again. Maybe due to the fact that home largely has to do with who lives there, and much as I appreciate the people I live with and work with, they still aren't family.

I wonder if Colombia will ever feel like home.