Christmas in Colombia

I love Christmas. Every year, the mystery of God come to earth as a helpless baby astounds me. What unimaginable love and creativity. ". . .Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men." Philippians 2:5-7

Not only do I love the mystery though. I love the traditions of Christmas. And this year, for the first time, I'm celebrating them, and making new traditions here in Colombia.

Our whole "family" met up one Sunday after church, went out for lunch, and then went Christmas tree shopping. I love real Christmas trees, but, despite the prevalence of pine trees here, they're a different kind of pine, and Christmas tree farms are non-existent. So, we had to satisfy ourselves with an artificial tree. I wish I'd brought my camera with me on our shopping expedition, but petty theft rises around Christmas time and I didn't want to risk it. But, imagine if you will, 4 straight blocks of Christmas stores, every one selling trees, ornaments, decorations, nativity sets. . . In the street, vendors sell Christmas tree skirts and Christmas doormats. People swarm everywhere, looking for the best deals on Christmas decorations. After looking at our options in 4 or 5 stores, we finally settled on a 2 meter high Christmas tree, brought it home, and then left for a week long retreat.

The next Saturday, we decided to decorate. Cookies were baked, hot chocolate was made, friends called last minute to see if they could come and cook dinner with us, and before we knew it, we had a tree decorating party on hand. The extra ornaments we picked up at 70% off when we ran to the store for more ingredients for dinner made the tree just about perfect.

Thursday was a national holiday (Las Velitas, it's called here, celebrating the immaculate conception of Mary). Rae Ann and I headed over to Luz y Vida around 11 to get a head start on mixing cookie dough. By 1:30, 7 of the Luz y Vida girls, Rae Ann, and Ingrid had showed up to help. We made peanut butter, gingerbread, chocolate chip and empire cookies. By 5 o'clock, we sent some happy girls off each with a plate of cookies, and collapsed exhausted on the couches. Later, we set aside cookies for 2 parties and 5 businesses in the neighborhood that we frequent to say thanks for being good neighbors.

On Saturday, a group of people assembled again for what will hopefully be the first annual Torre Fuerte Christmas party. After a tiring afternoon at the Jungle, swinging kids in hammocks, corralling rowdy teenagers, and making dozens of angel crafts, we were all ready to crash when we got back to the house. The good thing is, Sara and I cooked before we left- Mashed potatoes were warming in the oven, the roast was ready in the slow cooker, and glazed carrots waited to be heated on the stove. After a relaxing dinner and a comical time of multi-lingual sing-along karaoke Christmas carols, we started in on our gift exchange. Gifts changed hands over and over, everyone got a good laugh, and in true Colombian fashion, most of the edible gifts were shared and almost gone before the guests left.

Sunday Rae Ann, Ingrid and I headed up to the farm to help Bibiana celebrate Christmas Venezuelan style. Hallacas are a traditional Venezuelan Christmas food, and we spent the day helping to prepare them. Corn dough is spread on banana leaves, topped with a spiced meat filling, tied into pretty little packages, then boiled for an hour over a wood fire. I became an expert at tying the hallacas.

We spent the night so we would be there bright and early the next morning for the staff Christmas party. After a time of Christmas carols and games, we celebrated true Colombian style with asado (a cook-out) followed by an overwhelming variety of desserts. Stuffed and tired, we headed back down to Bogotá, getting stuck in lovely traffic for over 2 hours.

Last night was Rae Ann's last night here before she headed home for the holidays, so we had one last "family" dinner together. Afterwards, we decided we really needed a family Christmas picture too, so we posed in front of the Christmas tree. Here we are, in our Christmas best.

And that, I believe is the end of the Christmas festivities, at least for me, here in Colombia.

Will I not act?

Remember this post from last month? The post where I was so discouraged? God is so tender in the way he deals with us. He knows I needed to be encouraged, still need encouragement, and he faithfully sends it my way.

Just after I posted, my pastor here preached from Ezekiel 37 , the passage about the valley of dry bones. Ezekiel was a lot like me. "And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord GOD, you know.” (verse 3) He didn't want to tell God no, it was impossible, and yet, he didn't quite have faith enough to say yes. But God is a God of hope. "Then he said to me, “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Behold, they say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost. . .’ Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves. . . .And you shall know that I am the LORD . . . And I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live” (verses 11-14).

God spoke to me- I can make them live again too. There is no circumstance too hopeless for me.

Then, reading through the book of Isaiah, I found it again and again. "For My own sake, for My own sake, I will act; For how can My name be profaned? And My glory I will not give to another" (Isaiah 48:11)

Last Friday, we went to a Hillsong concert. Surrounded by thousands of Christians, I listened again to the story of Gideon. "And Gideon went out in the strength that he had" said the speaker. "the strength that he had". The words resonated in my heart. Gideon wasn't perfect, he didn't have it all together, he was frightened and doubted himself. But God used him to bring about change and accomplish his will. Again, I was encouraged- God can use me in my weakness.

But then, as we sang, I was confronted with something. God whispered to me, 'this isn't just about me encouraging you. This is truth'.

You see, I had stayed stuck with the same feelings as Ezekiel- "only you know Lord". Could he act, could he change my students and their families? Without a doubt. But was I believing that he would? Not truly. But that evening, thanking God for encouraging me yet again, God pushed me to look at my own lack of faith. "would I say it just to encourage you? This is true of who I am. Will I not act?" was what sunk into my heart.

So, here I am. "Will I not act?" God asked me. So, I wait. Trying to wait in faith. I want to see God in action, want to see his mighty power. Maybe it will continue to come slowly, unfolding step by step. Maybe there will never be one moment when I say "ah, finally, God showed up!". Because, honestly, life is full of miraculous moments we don't even recognize. And God is always here. But, I have his promise- he not only can act. He will. He is. He is here.

I sing the mighty power of God

I sing the mighty power of God that made the mountains rise,

that spread the flowing seas abroad and built the lofty skies.

I sing the wisdom that ordains the sun to rule by day;

the moon shines forth at his command and all the stars obey.

I've been able to take two day trips with friends outside of Bogotá lately. I live in such a beautiful country.

out on the lake by Guatavita

mid-afternoon in Guatavita

The sound of water running over rocks, fresh mountain air, and even being out in the drizzle all make my soul rest.

fog in the mountains near La Vega

I didn't realize how much I miss the sound of running water until I was here.

culture quandaries

I point with my lips, chop my vegetables super small, waggle my finger back and forth when I don't want something, raise my index finger instead of my hand, motion people to come with a downward motion of my hand, express surprise by saying "ush", pleasure by saying "uhy" and doubt by saying "hm". And I whine.

They weren't, mostly, intentional adaptations to the culture. I've just come to realize they are things I've come to do at some point over the last few years, ways I blend in with those around me.

The whining is what most caught me by surprise. It isn't even something I've really been consciously aware of, until I realized that the way I ask people to do things is completely different in English and Spanish. I was sitting with English speaking friends, chatting over milkshakes about the Hillsong concert we'd been given free tickets to and who all was going. "Peter's going too", I said, "though I had to convince him. I really am whinier in Spanish", I said as the realization hit me. "Say what you said to him, but say it in English" one of the girls suggested. So I did- "Peter, you should really come. Your dad wants you to, and I do too, and the kids will be really happy you're there". Not the words so much, but the tone of voice, had us all laughing. I sounded ridiculous in English. In Spanish though, it sounded normal. And I'm still trying to figure out what I should do with that. . . Is whining culturally appropriate, and therefore expected (and by extension ok), or is whining always obnoxious?

Cook-out, Colombian style

The day started out gorgeous and sunny, but by midmorning it was chilly and overcast. That didn't stop our plans though. In the kitchen we chopped onions and tomato, marinated meat, scrubbed potatoes and peeled yuca. Outside, they worked hard at getting the fire lighted.

the view from the grill

Once the grill was lit, Edwin, Alex, and the teens took over grilling while Bibiana and I made arepas (a corn-based flat bread)

the grill masters

me, making arepas

Despite the fact that we started before 11, lunch wasn't ready until 4. It was worth the wait though: grilled meat, ripe plantain, guacamole, arepas, salted potatoes with hot sauce, yuca, salad. Enough for 26 people with leftovers. And believe me, we ate.

the finished product (not pictured- grilled ripe plantain or my plate of seconds)

looking for hope in the dark

Tuesday, I wanted to give up. I am surrounded by hopelessness. Every morning, I walk to work, past 9 or 11 or 14 homeless men, huddled under tarps or blankets, sometimes a bare foot sticking out, making me wonder how they have the will power to keep moving, keep struggling to survive. Prostitutes standing in doorways have just become routine; I happen to notice they’re less provocatively dressed on a chilly, rainy Sunday afternoon. Half a block away from my house a couple approach me, 3-year-old son trailing behind. There’s a joint in the dad’s hand, he passes it to the boy’s mother as I walk past them, hurrying to escape the overwhelming smell of marijuana.

At work, I open an email, from some organization fighting poverty somewhere. “What’s the best way to fight poverty?” the subject line asks. Inside, they ever-so-optimistically proclaim, “provide education” and go on to encourage you to sponsor a child. And I wonder why they make it sound so easy. It isn’t enough to send a kid to school, teach them to read. My kids are all learning to read. They’re adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing. But I’m discouraged. One family, with 9 children, rents 2 small rooms daily. One room is as wide as a single bed. The parents and 3 youngest children sleep there. The other 6 kids share the other room, mattresses on a floor. Absences are frequent as the bigger kids stay home to help with the littler ones as their parents run errands, trying to make a better life for their family. Even the oldest, who seems most motivated to succeed, is falling behind in school work.

My students fight, argue with their teachers, complain about everything and anything, and don’t show any desire to change. The kids who were doing well last year, the ones we sent to normal schools, are almost all doing poorly, failing classes, missing days. The kids we decided we needed to work with more are making progress academically, but their hearts seem untouched. Sometimes behaviors even seem worse.

I feel overwhelmed. If their heart attitudes don’t change, if they don’t long to seek Jesus, if they stay in the same environment, education won’t do much for them. And I start to question everything- the hours and hours, the prayers and tears, the creative examples and book shopping, all for what? So they can throw it all away, live a religious but faithless life, selling things from a cart on the side of the street, having 5 kids with 4 different men by the time they’re 25, renting a room by the day? Can we really make a difference?

Where is God in all this? I really don’t believe he made this world and now will just let it run its course. I believe in divine intervention. But I’m not seeing it, here and now, in the lives of these kids. And I’m discouraged. Why don’t I have stories to tell about lives given to Christ, whole families being changed by the power of God at work? Why is it an uphill battle? Why do I see so little success, and so much of what fails like failure? Why does it all have to be so hard?

****************

Circumstances haven't changed. But hope creeps back in. Words in an email from my mom, "While we may seem to be failing--perhaps we are planting and watering where someone else will reap." A conversation with a friend about children who grow up in the church and leave, but come back to Christ later, "that was me" he said. And God's word, spoken in Isaiah 42 “I have held My peace a long time, I have been still and restrained Myself. Now I will cry like a woman in labor, I will pant and gasp at once. I will lay waste the mountains and hills, And dry up all their vegetation; I will make the rivers coastlands, And I will dry up the pools. I will bring the blind by a way they did not know; I will lead them in paths they have not known. I will make darkness light before them, And crooked places straight. These things I will do for them, And not forsake them."

We don't always see God at work, but that doesn't mean he isn't working. God might be still and restrain himself for a time, but he won't forsake us. He called me here. His reasons for that haven't changed. I can never love more than Him.

So, I keep on, praying for more faith in a loving God in the dark.

a random collection of thoughts

My blog has been neglected this month. I compose in my head, but nothing ever makes it to paper, or I suppose, the computer screen. So here, in no particular order, are some thoughts and happenings from the past few weeks.

I went to an all day workshop, part of which was about personality types. I am a task oriented person. I realized something about myself and my job at Luz y Vida. When I am completing tasks like putting together a modified schedule for a week with changes, or working on a reading curriculum, I feel productive and accomplished. I am working towards completing my end of year goals. When I am doing a people oriented job- talking with a child who's having a rough time, listening to a teacher who is looking for a better solution in the classroom, although I know that what I am doing in the moment is important, and I enjoy it, I feel less productive. I can't cross anything off my list, I'm not reaching those year long goals. I wonder how I learn to value more my people-oriented moments and not feel like they are somehow less valid.

I love cooking for and with people- having friends over for soup and salad last Saturday night before going to see a play, making pizza at a friends house on Thursday, making pancakes for breakfast for my housemate and a friend who spent the night yesterday morning. I love the moments spent together in the kitchen, and the talk and laughter around the table. And food, I love to eat too. :)

My cat is getting better. Her scabs are almost gone, she unfortunately lost most of her hair when they scabs fell off, but it's growing back in. She looks a bit like a tiny jackal.

I added "the final touches" to my bedroom over the past month- a desk, a rug for the floor, pictures on the walls.

My 4th and 5th graders finished reading their 4th chapter book. They did horribly on their test, and I realized I never taught them how to study. We spent an hour going over some basic study skills and making flash cards, and when they did a retest, their grades improved substantially.

I love this city. I love 50 cent snacks, knowing how to get around by bus, knowing which section of the city to go to buy office supplies, appliances, shoes. . . I love the hustle and bustle downtown, the quiet, quirky, gritty, or trendy neighborhoods that change their feel every few blocks.

Working with at-risk kids is heart breaking.

I dream and I plan, but I have no idea what I want to be "when I grow up".

And, I'll be home for Christmas!