Learning to fail

I remember sitting in a college chapel and the speaker asked everyone who'd ever failed at anything to stand up.  I stayed seated, first because of a stubborn streak I have, but then, as I thought about it, I couldn't bring to mind a single time I had failed.  It bothered me then, enough that I still remember that moment 8 years later.  Why on earth could I not bring to mind a single failure?

Recently, my fear of failure caught up with me again.  I was debating whether it was worth the time, effort, and money to apply to some of the more selective schools I was interested in.  I tried to justify it as being "practical"- after all, why spend hundreds of dollars on testing, application fees, and transcript requests if you don't get accepted? But, as I looked more closely at my motivation, I realized it wasn't just practicality that was driving me.  It was fear.  Fear of failure.

Just the other day I stumbled on a blog post about bright girls which led to a huff post article, both of which made me think about the way I view myself and why that might be.  The basic premise is that high achieving girls are praised when they are young for being smart and good, leading them to see their achievements as something innate.  If they are challenged by something, it isn't a sign to try harder, but a sign that they aren't smart enough for the challenge.  All of this leads high achieving girls to avoid risk taking- better to avoid a challenge than to tackle it and fail.

It seems counter-intuitive that telling girls they're smart could have a negative effect.  Yet, I can see it in myself.  Ask me why I do well on standardized tests.  I'm smart, I'll tell you.  My sense that my achievements are due to innate ability is strong.  But, at the same time that I was developing my view of myself as naturally smart, I was also developing a view of myself as innately in-athletic. I hated sports with a passion growing up and looking back, I think the big reason is, I wasn't good at them.  Rather than taking a challenge, risking "failure", and learning to improve, I walked away.

The first time I played soccer here, I made a mistake, had someone impatiently tell me what I did wrong, and I walked off the field.  Why keep playing if I was just going to fail?  Over and over again, I catch myself in the same sort of cycle, walking away rather than putting forth an effort and failing.

It's not just in sports either.  I think in most aspects of my life I take calculated risks, risks where I'm sure I can't fail completely, risks where I have a back up plan if things don't work out.

But, I'm trying to change that.  I've begun to see that failing is okay.  Not just theoretically so, not just me telling my students it's okay to make mistakes, they can learn from them.  But really and truly, in practice.  It is okay if I fail.  It's okay if I try something and it doesn't work out.  It's okay to make mistakes.

So, I play a little bit of soccer and a little bit of volley ball and maybe even some ultimate frisbee if I'm among friends, and even when my team is losing and I feel like I'm just dead weight, I try not to give up.  And, I kept my selective schools on my shortlist of programs I'm applying to, even if it means I get a rejection letter.  And who knows what I'll decide next, but I do know this- I don't want my fear of failure to keep me from trying something which just might turn out to be something I love despite the messes along the way.

Weekends

I've been loving weekends lately.  Last weekend we had two perfect days.  The sky was cloudless, which is rare in Bogotá.  On Sunday we headed to Parque Simón Bolívar after church.  I couldn't have asked for a better day.  It was sunny and breezy.  I lazed around and took pictures and enjoyed the sun on my face- exactly what I needed.  

We ate a picnic lunch and bought ice cream from vendors in the park.

 It was so nice we stayed until sunset and didn't even get cold (again, unusual in Bogotá- 4 layers a day is my average)

This weekend the weather hasn't been great, but I've been wanting to make an apron for ages and my friend brought back a sewing machine after her last trip to the States and we went to a fabric outlet on Tuesday, so I had everything I needed, other than matching thread.  So, Saturday after getting housecleaning out of the way, I headed across town to buy thread and then came home and made this apron.  Pretty cute, if I do say so myself.  I found a picture on the internet that I liked and, better yet, a partial photo of the pattern, so with that I figured out how to put it together.

Of course, a new apron means I had to do something with it.  We have an 8 year old staying at our house this weekend, and I had some peanut butter chips that friends from church sent in a package, so chocolate peanut butter chip cookies seemed like the best option.

He was excited to use the mixer, and I was excited to eat amazing cookies and wear my fun new apron.  Win-win situation.  

If you're in the neighborhood and stop by within the next 24 hours, I just may have some cookies to share.  ;)

Baby Steps

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

Sometimes, I fret.  I worry about the things I cannot control.  But there are moments when I see progress, when I realize that I have learned to cast not all, but at least some, of my burdens on Jesus and to leave them there. 

At the end of last year, I desperately, and to be perfectly honest, without much faith, asked God for teachers for this year.  I didn’t see where his answer would come from, so even as I asked, I doubted his response.  Despite my lack of faith, God provided.  My faith grew just a little bit.  Enough that when Rae Ann was left without a classroom aide, and I had no idea where one would come from, instead of fretting, I took the problem to Jesus and stopped worrying.  On Wednesday, Jessica had to go pick someone up from the airport, someone I wasn’t even aware was coming.  By Friday, she’d been to visit Luz y Vida and I found out that she would be staying until the end of the school year, helping as a classroom aide in Rae Ann’s class.

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you”. 1 Peter 5:7

Thinking about heading back to the States and my transition time before grad school, I started wondering about where I would live.  Before I even had time to worry about it, my mom mentioned that my family will be moving out of the house we’ve lived in for years and into a new house, and maybe they could rent the old house to me.  One question taken care of, I reminded God (not that he really needed a reminder) how much I hate the thought of living alone.  Turns out my sister has decided to pursue grad school at the same time as me and will be at the same point of transition, so it looks like the two of us may be housemates in our parents’ old house before we start grad school.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” Matthew 6:25

As my faith grows in some areas, I still find it desperately lacking in others.  I worry. What if none of the grad schools I apply to accepts me?  What if I finish grad school and don’t know what I’m supposed to do next? And my biggest worry, What if I stay single for the rest of my life, how will I deal with that?

Be anxious for NOTHING

It’s a command.  Not one I’m very good at keeping.  Over and over again, I find myself back where I started, pleading with God for the answer I want.  And over and over I have to remind myself- My God provides for me.  My God loves me.  My God is all-powerful.  I do not need to fear.  Worrying changes nothing.  And I hope, that bit by bit, I will learn to truly be anxious for nothing, to take all my worries and fears to God and leave them there, trusting that the God who has shown himself to be faithful over and over and over again will never stop being faithful.

The bend in the road

It all started with a growing unrest, the realization that where I am and where I want to be aren't the same.  And then, I stumbled upon Finland.  I had no idea that they were one of the top ranked countries worldwide for their education system.  Nor did I know they had tuition free masters programs even for foreign students.  But once I found out, the idea wouldn't go away.  "What if I did my masters in Education in Finland?  Then I'd be more well prepared and well rounded to be in a leadership position. . ." 

From there, I think I just caught the studying bug.  I found more programs, all of which sounded fun, challenging, a way to broaden my outlook and increase my effectiveness.  And what started as a joke (I think I'll go to Finland and do my masters) became serious (which grad schools do I want to apply to and what are the deadlines?)


So, next stop for me?  Grad school.  Maybe in Finland.  Maybe in Chicago.  Maybe in Cambridge.  Maybe somewhere else I haven't discovered yet.  And that's exciting and good.  It's scary too- I've gotten comfortable here.  I absolutely love my friends. I know my way around, I have a job that's satisfying (most of the time) and challenging (all the time).  Leaving all that for the unknown, that's the scary part, but the unknown bit is what makes it exciting too.  Who knows what adventures are waiting for me?

 "Oh, I've dozens of plans, Marilla. I've been thinking them out for a week. I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return. When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla. I wonder how the road beyond it goes--what there is of green glory and soft, checkered light and shadows--what new landscapes--what new beauties--what curves and hills and valleys further on."

( From Anne of Green Gables ch. 38)

Longing for a better country. . .

I've been thinking about heaven lately. 

My grandparents are headed there before me.  It might be months from now or only weeks from now, but they've reached that point where mortality can't be argued anymore.

Mostly, I want to stop the clock and hold on to them forever.  But inside me, there's a building "longing for a better country" that trusts that I'll see them again on the other side of death, and it will be better.

"If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” Hebrews 11:15-16

Somewhere along the way nowhere begins to feel exactly like home. 

To be with loved ones here means leaving loved ones there.    There's always part of me that's missing.  

At my church in Colombia, I close my eyes and sing all the songs, I don't need to look at the words.  But then, the pastor starts to preach and I miss the focused sermon of pastors back "home".  "Home" again, I find that all the songs the church sings seem to have changed in the past 3 years.  I stare at the overhead, missing the familiar words of the songs back "home" in Colombia.  It's a scene that's mirrored in a thousand little ways, the way my two homes intersect, each with their mutually exclusive joys and challenges.  

And I find myself at moments, longing for heaven.  Everyone I love, everything that matters, all in one place.  No more confusion.  No more striving.  No more difficult, painful, unanswered questions.  No more goodbyes.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4 

Time for a career change?

My friend Edwin knows my love of all things Chinese, so when he and some classmates had to do a presentation about Chinese cuisine, he recruited me in the testing stage.

We made papaya dumplings (which were an utter failure.  As far as I'm concerned, even deep frying can not redeem cooked papaya)

We also made yin yang soup.  It's deceptively simple.  Boil some prawns and calamari with a smidgen of MSG thrown in for good measure.  Beat an egg and swirl it into the broth.  In another pot boil finely chopped spinach (again, a little bit of MSG never hurts. . .)  I think Edwin may have thrown it into the blender.  I was trying not to throw things across the room at that point as I reached my frustration level trying to roll out unworkable dumpling dough.  Once the two soups are cooked, place a ladle of the egg drop soup in the bottom of the bowl.  

With a spoon, carefully spoon the spinach soup on top in the shape of a yin yang.  

It looks pretty awesome and was really tasty too.

I surprised myself with my artistic talent.  I think it might be owing to wearing a chef jacket.  

Another fun discovery was this fruit- it's called papayuela.  Neither Edwin nor I knew what it was, so we decided to buy one just to experiment. They need to be cooked, but had a wonderful sweet/tart flavor.

 Next on my list of things I want to experiment with in the kitchen- these "rawvioli" made from beets

powerless

He sat hunched against the wall in my office, sweatshirt pulled up to cover his face.  He'd been in more or less the same position for hours now.  I wondered what to do.  He didn't want to talk to me and tell me what was wrong, he wouldn't eat lunch, he wouldn't write how he felt, he wouldn't even shake his head to respond to yes or no questions.  Nothing I could say or do would convince him to let down his guard.

My heart ached.  What do you do when a child won't let you help them?  How do you break through walls of silence?  How do you mediate when you don't even know what the problem is?

And so, powerless to change anything, I prayed to the only one who knows the heart of silence, the one for whom nothing is impossible.