Heerlikste Jesus, sterke Wereldheerser, koning op die hemeltroon, lof, dank en ere aan U, o Here, my hart se vreug mi siel se kroon….
You catch that? No? Me either. While I’m in the process of learning Afrikaans, everyday conversation is still way beyond me.
In case you were wondering, that was the first verse of the hymn “Beautiful Savior.” PLU people, I think of you every time we sing it in church! On that note (pun very intended), all of our church services are almost completely in Afrikaans. At first I was a little frustrated with the fact because it meant I had no idea what was going on for a good deal of the service. I have to take cues from everyone around me about when to stand up, sit down, sing, or when something else happens. Having no access to what was going on was tough until I began to listen to the messages behind the words.
Unplanned harmonies ring throughout the crowded chapel as people from all different walks of life come together to create one beautiful song of worship. I may not understand what the words mean but just listening to the sound of so many voices coming together as one speaks volumes about how God can bring people together in peace. The joy on people’s faces as they sing and greet one another speaks more than their words could say.
In some ways the language barrier has been a blessing.—it is forcing me to think with my heart instead of my head for once. Without the easiness of communication through language I have to listen deeply to intent rather than content to understand. Yet in slowing down enough to do so I feel like I am looking at church and life in a way I never have before: in paying attention to the very real joy and peace and community that church is meant to be all about.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Why So Blue?
Here’s a little snippet from my day I can’t help but share:
“Jen! Jen!” Nadine calls while running to the back of the room. Joshua and I pause in the middle of a math problem explanation as she arrives.
“I’m trying to work with Joshua now, what is it?”
She grins mischievously.
“Uzrie’s drinking ink!”
Skeptical, I look over to Uzrie. The guilty smirk says it all.
“Uzrie, come here please.”
He shuffles over, hiding his hands behind his back.
“Uzrie, are you drinking ink?”
He shakes his head, lips tight together.
“Smile for me please.”
Sheepishly, he smiles, revealing a set of beautifully shaded bright blue teeth.
“Look!” he sticks his tongue out proudly, “my tongue’s blue too!”
I’ll personally give you ten bucks if you could see all that and not laugh. I spent the rest of the day breaking out in giggles to myself when he smiled at me with his still-blue teeth. When I was in third grade I distinctly remember the boys daring each other to eat glue. Boys will be boys, no matter where you’re from I guess. Haha. Laughter in dealing with daily mini-disasters is one of my favorite things about working with kids. There are few things laughter can’t fix, even a set of fluorescent blue teeth.
“Jen! Jen!” Nadine calls while running to the back of the room. Joshua and I pause in the middle of a math problem explanation as she arrives.
“I’m trying to work with Joshua now, what is it?”
She grins mischievously.
“Uzrie’s drinking ink!”
Skeptical, I look over to Uzrie. The guilty smirk says it all.
“Uzrie, come here please.”
He shuffles over, hiding his hands behind his back.
“Uzrie, are you drinking ink?”
He shakes his head, lips tight together.
“Smile for me please.”
Sheepishly, he smiles, revealing a set of beautifully shaded bright blue teeth.
“Look!” he sticks his tongue out proudly, “my tongue’s blue too!”
I’ll personally give you ten bucks if you could see all that and not laugh. I spent the rest of the day breaking out in giggles to myself when he smiled at me with his still-blue teeth. When I was in third grade I distinctly remember the boys daring each other to eat glue. Boys will be boys, no matter where you’re from I guess. Haha. Laughter in dealing with daily mini-disasters is one of my favorite things about working with kids. There are few things laughter can’t fix, even a set of fluorescent blue teeth.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
The Gift of Dependence
Barbed wire around the play grounds, spiked fences in front of every house. The picture of an average street with all its barred windows and barbed wire belies the warm hospitality inside each home. With all of its extremes in wealth, education levels, and privilege, Cape Town isn’t always the safest place to be in. Since coming here I’ve learned a new set of rules for everyday life:
1. Always be home before dark
2. Don’t use your cellphone in public (thieves will mug you for the sim card)
3. While driving, keep all bags at your feet (to prevent people breaking the windows to steal a purse aka a “smash and grab”)
4. Don’t go anywhere alone:
I never realized what a privilege safety was until I could no longer take it for granted. When’s the last time you felt the need to check behind you every few minutes while walking to the mall or had to consider the time of nightfall into your plans? :
Adjustment wasn’t easy. I value my independence so much that being kept inside for safety’s sake was incredibly frustrating. Not being able to go places alone was also a huge blow. I’m the girl who travelled through 7 countries alone and hiked up 12 mountains in a day on my own. Independence is a huge part of what makes me me.
It took about a month before I became comfortable with asking for help. As Americans, we’re taught to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and look out for number one. Asking for help is something we dislike doing. It’s uncomfortable for us to say that we need someone else.
While I grew up with this mindset, I never knew on what I was missing out on in the beauty of saying I can’t make it on my own. But in being forced to ask for help I was given incredible opportunities to connect with people here in ways that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. In asking for car rides we are given a unique chance to talk deeper than just in passing. When friends walk with me to get groceries they share their stories of their pasts and memories of the neighborhoods we walk though. Carpooling to school every morning has introduced me to my next door neighbor’s family and made me an adopted member from seeing them so often. :
:
Dependence is a gift I never thought I’d value. In all reality, it was a Lesson I Never Wanted to Learn. Now, I treasure the relationships and conversations that dependence on my community has created. Through dependence, I’m learning how to truly live out Ubuntu, the South African philosophy of “I am because we are.”
1. Always be home before dark
2. Don’t use your cellphone in public (thieves will mug you for the sim card)
3. While driving, keep all bags at your feet (to prevent people breaking the windows to steal a purse aka a “smash and grab”)
4. Don’t go anywhere alone:
I never realized what a privilege safety was until I could no longer take it for granted. When’s the last time you felt the need to check behind you every few minutes while walking to the mall or had to consider the time of nightfall into your plans? :
Adjustment wasn’t easy. I value my independence so much that being kept inside for safety’s sake was incredibly frustrating. Not being able to go places alone was also a huge blow. I’m the girl who travelled through 7 countries alone and hiked up 12 mountains in a day on my own. Independence is a huge part of what makes me me.
It took about a month before I became comfortable with asking for help. As Americans, we’re taught to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and look out for number one. Asking for help is something we dislike doing. It’s uncomfortable for us to say that we need someone else.
While I grew up with this mindset, I never knew on what I was missing out on in the beauty of saying I can’t make it on my own. But in being forced to ask for help I was given incredible opportunities to connect with people here in ways that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. In asking for car rides we are given a unique chance to talk deeper than just in passing. When friends walk with me to get groceries they share their stories of their pasts and memories of the neighborhoods we walk though. Carpooling to school every morning has introduced me to my next door neighbor’s family and made me an adopted member from seeing them so often. :
:
Dependence is a gift I never thought I’d value. In all reality, it was a Lesson I Never Wanted to Learn. Now, I treasure the relationships and conversations that dependence on my community has created. Through dependence, I’m learning how to truly live out Ubuntu, the South African philosophy of “I am because we are.”
Saturday, November 3, 2012
The Best Part Of Waking Up
No, it’s not Folgers in your cup. How about a two inch cockroach on your hand instead? That’ll wake you up faster than any cup of joe.
Rewind back to this morning. It’s before 7am and for those that have witnessed me at wake-up time, I’m about as cheerful and delightful as a momma bear on rampage. After shutting off the obnoxious alarm I reach down to my backpack to move it out of the way before getting out of bed. Something touches my hand and I sleepily lift it up to eye level to try and open my eyes big enough to see what it is. The cockroach hitchhiking a ride is as big as my finger and raises its antennae at me in a happy hello.
Needless to say, I scream. I flail. The cockroach gets a free ticket for a flight across the room. I run out to the kitchen and retell everything in high pitch to Elsa who can’t understand my English. She looks at me for a moment with concern, head cocked to the side, and gives me a hug, patting my back and saying “I love you.” Not exactly a fitting response but it made my morning better.
Love has no language.
Rewind back to this morning. It’s before 7am and for those that have witnessed me at wake-up time, I’m about as cheerful and delightful as a momma bear on rampage. After shutting off the obnoxious alarm I reach down to my backpack to move it out of the way before getting out of bed. Something touches my hand and I sleepily lift it up to eye level to try and open my eyes big enough to see what it is. The cockroach hitchhiking a ride is as big as my finger and raises its antennae at me in a happy hello.
Needless to say, I scream. I flail. The cockroach gets a free ticket for a flight across the room. I run out to the kitchen and retell everything in high pitch to Elsa who can’t understand my English. She looks at me for a moment with concern, head cocked to the side, and gives me a hug, patting my back and saying “I love you.” Not exactly a fitting response but it made my morning better.
Love has no language.
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