My blog posts are several days behind the experiences I want to relate, but time keeps escaping me and I'm trying to cling to the moments I wanted to write about, but if I don't sit down and do it... I will just forget them.
Last week I went to a special needs classroom for a couple of hours. Melinda is the head teacher and she also happens to be my mentor here, so I was excited about getting to see her world... to see her loving and teaching and interacting with these children. One of my classes this semester is "Intellectual Disability"and one of my assignments is to have a community placement. I'd never been in a special needs classroom before and wasn't sure what to expect. Most of my experience interacting with people who have intellectual disabilities has been in orphanages in Colombia. I knew her classroom wasn't going to feel like an institution, so I didn't even know what to expect.
And what I found was something far more beautiful than I could have imagined.
None of Melinda's children could walk without support, and most were confined to a wheelchair. None could speak, and several were deaf or blind or both. They had severe special needs. But that's not what caught me off guard. The disabilities these kids had were quite similar to the disabilities found in the orphanages back in Colombia. I wasn't uncomfortable being in a classroom with these beautiful children.
But what caught me off guard, what constantly made a lump well up in my throat was the dignity that was granted to these children blew me away. The personalized attention, the love, the affection, the patience... I was overwhelmed. These children had so much support. They had contraptions to strengthen their muscles and skeletal structure. They had centers that would stimulate their sight and hearing. They had personalized blocks with symbols they could touch to help them communicate. As best they could, Melinda and her student teacher and the students' nurses carried out a routine and interacted with the children, providing them with individualized attention .
I smiled and my heart swelled as I watched Melinda love her students. They were so responsive to her voice and her touch. Many giggled and turned their heads to face her when they heard her comforting voice. Though these kids couldn't talk, they certainly conversed and communicated with Melinda.
I couldn't help comparing the life of these children with the lives of the children filling the orphanages in Colombia (see this post). A streak of anger flew through my heart... why did these children still have the right to education? Of course, my question was so backwards. Of course they should have the right. The better question was why didn't the kids in the orphanages back home not have this life? Why were they confined to an existence of laying on overcrowded mattresses, trapped inside the sounds of their own moans?
But I couldn't stand there, overcome by the beauty of this classroom and get bitter because I knew children who weren't this blessed. That perspective was sickening. It was disgusting and it was wrong. As I prayed for these children and let my prayers raise up on behalf of the children in Colombia, I was able to fully enjoy and cherish my time in Melinda's classroom.
And that's exactly what I did.
I loved it. I cherished it.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Discombobbled
I felt extremely discombobbled and I couldn't quite figure out why. Sure, I had just gotten back from a whirlwind trip to California, so clearly I was allowed to feel a little out of place for a day or two. Right?
But it wasn't a day or two... I was at three or four... or five.
Or six.
As I tried to figure out why I had been feeling like a fish out of water for the past week, it dawned on me that it wasn't the traveling. I've traveled enough in my life to know that most kinds of traveling doesn't faze me. In fact, I love to travel. The fact that I had been in California for less then 36 hours wasn't what had affected me.
I realized that in the short span of 64 hours, I had been in certain situations, seeing certain people that represented certain seasons or worlds in my life... too many seasons and too many worlds in too short of a time span. My heart was not catching up to my body. Indeed, it felt like my body was simply the mode of transporting my heart and mind around... slightly like a strange out-of-body experience. Beginning on Friday night and ending on Monday morning, I had effectively stepped into seven of my oh-so-complex worlds.
1) When my grandparents picked me up in Champaign I was able to easily transition into my "family-mode..." I was able to pick up where I left off with them and talk and laugh and just slide into that comfort zone they provide. It was so great being with them, and I suppose I've never considered this time with them a "world," but it totally it is. Sitting in their home and eating my grandma's delicious food encapsulates entire weeks and even summers I spent in the United States. Because at the end of the day, if I have a home in America, it's where they are.
2) Traveling alone always puts me into a strange mood. Not a bad mood, by any means... just a strange mood. I shift into my very independent, self-sufficient mindset and I become hyper-aware of my surroundings. This traveling alone "world" holds many, many hours in airports, sitting in comfortable chairs, sleeping while holding luggage, extended devotions, exploring terminals, meeting strangers and refusing to buy food because I'm so cheap. It represents so many trips to so many places, so many goodbyes and so many new arrivals.
3) I was picked up at LAX by an old family friend. Her family has faithfully supported mine in ministry throughout the years, and instantly I was thrown back in time to the years when my family would spend summers road-tripping across America visiting supporters. I instantly connected with Mrs. R and we chatted as if we had been lifelong friends, catching up on life. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and their willingness to love me and make sure I was comfortable. I walked into their house and my mind took a stroll down memory lane. I hadn't been in this home since I was probably seven or eight. Last time I was with my whole family. I remember spending long nights with my brother on air mattresses giggling until odd hours of the morning. I remembered long car drives for weeks at a time and having dinner in a different person's house each night, sleeping in a different bed and living out of a suitcase for way too long. I remembered many, many "let's visit supporter" trips and this time I was alone.
4) Sunday afternoon Mrs. R dropped me off at Ems' house outside of LA. I hadn't seen Ems since we were in Colombia together over Christmas break and I've never been with Ems outside of Colombia. So, though we were in LA, things strangely felt like Colombia. Our conversations were flooded with people from Colombia, places in Colombia, memories from Colombia... Our humor felt Colombian and we frequently switched into Spanish to better express words that just make more sense in Spanish, cierto?
At the wedding there were plenty of Spanish speakers because Kanae is half Mexican, so there were Latins EVERYWHERE! During the reception, a mariachi band came and all of Kanae's relatives began dancing. I couldn't help laughing and smiling all along. Later on, merengue music came on and Ems and I danced, spinning, and twirling... and I felt a deep longing for home. I felt that if I closed me eyes long enough, I may wake up in Colombia after this wonderful reception.
5) At the wedding, Ems and I had very little interaction with too many people beside ourselves. However, I did get to see Bryan who was Nick's caretaker on both of Nick's trips to Colombia. We had a very short conversation, but instantly were back to the way we used to joke when we'd be back stage during the tours in Colombia. Even simply seeing Nick threw me back into a strange place of intense ministry days. I remembered our long days during the tours and the rushed schedules and the great conversations and seeing God move in big ways. And though translating with Nick wasn't the same as my other ministries... I still ended up having part of my heart wander there on Sunday. I remembered translating for teams from Canada that were going to orphanages and my beloved Recyclers... and then I just was in that "world" for a bit.
6) Upon landing at O'Hare on Monday morning, I was picked up by my lovely friend Taylor. I hadn't seen her for months... too many months ago. Her beautiful smile and warm heart were so welcoming and I was instantly reminded why we had clicked and become such good friends five years (gasp! five years?!) ago... her compassionate heart and silly chuckles were such a great encouragement! And being with Taylor placed me back in the world where I met her... Wheaton. Those six months when my family did furlough freshman year of high school were a big part of my life. And Taylor was one of my best friends while I was there. She supported me and befriended me, though she knew I was going to leave six months later. I loved seeing her, but I wish I could have given her a "better" me... 'cause she was getting a five-hours-of-airplane-sleep-Vivi. Whoops.
Anyway, it was so great to be with her... I always love sharing moments with her again-- even if they're just brief moments every couple of months. I am amazed that we're still friends, seeing that I'm not really friends with anyone else from that season in life anymore. I still love and appreciate them for what they meant then, but I haven't seen or kept in touch with any of them, but Taylor. And I'm so grateful for her friendship :)
7) After a two hour train ride down to Champaign, I hopped on to a bus and found myself back in my dorm room. I dropped off my suitcase, picked up my school backpack, avoided the mirror and ran out the door to my Arabic class. As I sat in Arabic, a friend texted me telling me he hoped I'd have a safe trip back to Chicago. I chuckled to myself because I was already back... sitting in class. Whatta whirlwind. There I was, sitting in my most recent "world"... University of Illinois. The world that has shaken my other ones, leaving me scrambling to figure out how they fit together. The world that has forced me to see my own sin face to face, struggle with the most insecurities and feel the least at home-- ever. The world that I'm slowly learning to love... slowly, but surely, learning to love it.
And now it's been almost two weeks since the trip... I left a two weeks ago tomorrow. I'm finally starting to feel pretty settled back into Champaign and living and moving in this world again. The next month will be a crazy one as I will be traveling again, but hopefully because the trips are longer, I'll have more time to adjust and transition.
But it wasn't a day or two... I was at three or four... or five.
Or six.
As I tried to figure out why I had been feeling like a fish out of water for the past week, it dawned on me that it wasn't the traveling. I've traveled enough in my life to know that most kinds of traveling doesn't faze me. In fact, I love to travel. The fact that I had been in California for less then 36 hours wasn't what had affected me.
I realized that in the short span of 64 hours, I had been in certain situations, seeing certain people that represented certain seasons or worlds in my life... too many seasons and too many worlds in too short of a time span. My heart was not catching up to my body. Indeed, it felt like my body was simply the mode of transporting my heart and mind around... slightly like a strange out-of-body experience. Beginning on Friday night and ending on Monday morning, I had effectively stepped into seven of my oh-so-complex worlds.
1) When my grandparents picked me up in Champaign I was able to easily transition into my "family-mode..." I was able to pick up where I left off with them and talk and laugh and just slide into that comfort zone they provide. It was so great being with them, and I suppose I've never considered this time with them a "world," but it totally it is. Sitting in their home and eating my grandma's delicious food encapsulates entire weeks and even summers I spent in the United States. Because at the end of the day, if I have a home in America, it's where they are.
2) Traveling alone always puts me into a strange mood. Not a bad mood, by any means... just a strange mood. I shift into my very independent, self-sufficient mindset and I become hyper-aware of my surroundings. This traveling alone "world" holds many, many hours in airports, sitting in comfortable chairs, sleeping while holding luggage, extended devotions, exploring terminals, meeting strangers and refusing to buy food because I'm so cheap. It represents so many trips to so many places, so many goodbyes and so many new arrivals.
3) I was picked up at LAX by an old family friend. Her family has faithfully supported mine in ministry throughout the years, and instantly I was thrown back in time to the years when my family would spend summers road-tripping across America visiting supporters. I instantly connected with Mrs. R and we chatted as if we had been lifelong friends, catching up on life. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and their willingness to love me and make sure I was comfortable. I walked into their house and my mind took a stroll down memory lane. I hadn't been in this home since I was probably seven or eight. Last time I was with my whole family. I remember spending long nights with my brother on air mattresses giggling until odd hours of the morning. I remembered long car drives for weeks at a time and having dinner in a different person's house each night, sleeping in a different bed and living out of a suitcase for way too long. I remembered many, many "let's visit supporter" trips and this time I was alone.
4) Sunday afternoon Mrs. R dropped me off at Ems' house outside of LA. I hadn't seen Ems since we were in Colombia together over Christmas break and I've never been with Ems outside of Colombia. So, though we were in LA, things strangely felt like Colombia. Our conversations were flooded with people from Colombia, places in Colombia, memories from Colombia... Our humor felt Colombian and we frequently switched into Spanish to better express words that just make more sense in Spanish, cierto?
At the wedding there were plenty of Spanish speakers because Kanae is half Mexican, so there were Latins EVERYWHERE! During the reception, a mariachi band came and all of Kanae's relatives began dancing. I couldn't help laughing and smiling all along. Later on, merengue music came on and Ems and I danced, spinning, and twirling... and I felt a deep longing for home. I felt that if I closed me eyes long enough, I may wake up in Colombia after this wonderful reception.
5) At the wedding, Ems and I had very little interaction with too many people beside ourselves. However, I did get to see Bryan who was Nick's caretaker on both of Nick's trips to Colombia. We had a very short conversation, but instantly were back to the way we used to joke when we'd be back stage during the tours in Colombia. Even simply seeing Nick threw me back into a strange place of intense ministry days. I remembered our long days during the tours and the rushed schedules and the great conversations and seeing God move in big ways. And though translating with Nick wasn't the same as my other ministries... I still ended up having part of my heart wander there on Sunday. I remembered translating for teams from Canada that were going to orphanages and my beloved Recyclers... and then I just was in that "world" for a bit.
6) Upon landing at O'Hare on Monday morning, I was picked up by my lovely friend Taylor. I hadn't seen her for months... too many months ago. Her beautiful smile and warm heart were so welcoming and I was instantly reminded why we had clicked and become such good friends five years (gasp! five years?!) ago... her compassionate heart and silly chuckles were such a great encouragement! And being with Taylor placed me back in the world where I met her... Wheaton. Those six months when my family did furlough freshman year of high school were a big part of my life. And Taylor was one of my best friends while I was there. She supported me and befriended me, though she knew I was going to leave six months later. I loved seeing her, but I wish I could have given her a "better" me... 'cause she was getting a five-hours-of-airplane-sleep-Vivi. Whoops.
Anyway, it was so great to be with her... I always love sharing moments with her again-- even if they're just brief moments every couple of months. I am amazed that we're still friends, seeing that I'm not really friends with anyone else from that season in life anymore. I still love and appreciate them for what they meant then, but I haven't seen or kept in touch with any of them, but Taylor. And I'm so grateful for her friendship :)
7) After a two hour train ride down to Champaign, I hopped on to a bus and found myself back in my dorm room. I dropped off my suitcase, picked up my school backpack, avoided the mirror and ran out the door to my Arabic class. As I sat in Arabic, a friend texted me telling me he hoped I'd have a safe trip back to Chicago. I chuckled to myself because I was already back... sitting in class. Whatta whirlwind. There I was, sitting in my most recent "world"... University of Illinois. The world that has shaken my other ones, leaving me scrambling to figure out how they fit together. The world that has forced me to see my own sin face to face, struggle with the most insecurities and feel the least at home-- ever. The world that I'm slowly learning to love... slowly, but surely, learning to love it.
And now it's been almost two weeks since the trip... I left a two weeks ago tomorrow. I'm finally starting to feel pretty settled back into Champaign and living and moving in this world again. The next month will be a crazy one as I will be traveling again, but hopefully because the trips are longer, I'll have more time to adjust and transition.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Weddings, Weddings
It was a beautiful wedding.
Of course, what wedding isn't?
So, I suppose it goes without saying... of course it was a beautiful wedding.
A week ago I was at Nick and Kanae's wedding in California. I was really excited to be able to go to the wedding and simply witness this beautiful union. So, in a nutshell, this was my whirlwind trip: I drove up to Chicago, hopped onto a plane to LA, drove down to Palos Verdes, went to the wedding, was dropped off at LAX, hopped onto a plane to Chicago, got picked up and then dropped off at Union Station, took a train down to Champaign, jumped on a bus to my dorm, dropped my bags off, picked my backpack up and ran to my first class on Monday morning... all in the span of 64 hours.
But that... that whirlwind, will be recounted (maybe, if I remember and get the time) in another blogpost. This one is devoted to the wedding. The celebration of love. It was just so beautiful. My eyes were constantly watering.
Do you promise to love and cherish Kanae, forsaking all others?
I wish I could just show pictures and add quick captions, but I can't, because I failed to take many pictures (only took one!). I preferred to enjoy the wedding with Ems and take it all in with my two eyes than from behind a lens.
Do you promise to love and cherish Nick, forsaking all others?
Their love was so apparent. The maid of honor talked about it. The best man talked about it. The family talked about it. Everybody talked about it. And I suppose that's the way it should be, shouldn't it?
Despite Nick's obvious disabilities (see more about his life here), Kanae truly loved him. She truly was looking past appearances and looking into his heart... and seeing his beautiful heart. And their love, so rooted in God's love, was so willing to take and accept each other just as they were.
I think weddings are days of much idealism. There is plenty of optimism going around and joy gushes out of everyone. There's plenty to share and more to pass around. I can imagine that it's easy to believe that one's life will be "perfect" from this point forward... but seeing Nick and Kanae was such a beautiful reminder that marriage is not finding someone "perfect," but finding someone and loving them anyway. They know many of the hardships that they'll face from day one... oh, I wish more couples knew this as they approached the altar.
Their love reminded me that marriage is not about happiness, but about holiness. Yes, marriage can and often does and should increase and multiply your joy, but that's not it's sole purpose... it isn't it's end. Rather, marriage is a means through which we can become more and more sanctified.
I thoroughly enjoyed the night... watching them dance together. Yes, they did dance. Watching them laugh and interact with others.
Oh, I really do love weddings :)
Of course, what wedding isn't?
So, I suppose it goes without saying... of course it was a beautiful wedding.
A week ago I was at Nick and Kanae's wedding in California. I was really excited to be able to go to the wedding and simply witness this beautiful union. So, in a nutshell, this was my whirlwind trip: I drove up to Chicago, hopped onto a plane to LA, drove down to Palos Verdes, went to the wedding, was dropped off at LAX, hopped onto a plane to Chicago, got picked up and then dropped off at Union Station, took a train down to Champaign, jumped on a bus to my dorm, dropped my bags off, picked my backpack up and ran to my first class on Monday morning... all in the span of 64 hours.
But that... that whirlwind, will be recounted (maybe, if I remember and get the time) in another blogpost. This one is devoted to the wedding. The celebration of love. It was just so beautiful. My eyes were constantly watering.
Do you promise to love and cherish Kanae, forsaking all others?
I wish I could just show pictures and add quick captions, but I can't, because I failed to take many pictures (only took one!). I preferred to enjoy the wedding with Ems and take it all in with my two eyes than from behind a lens.
Do you promise to love and cherish Nick, forsaking all others?
Their love was so apparent. The maid of honor talked about it. The best man talked about it. The family talked about it. Everybody talked about it. And I suppose that's the way it should be, shouldn't it?
Despite Nick's obvious disabilities (see more about his life here), Kanae truly loved him. She truly was looking past appearances and looking into his heart... and seeing his beautiful heart. And their love, so rooted in God's love, was so willing to take and accept each other just as they were.
I think weddings are days of much idealism. There is plenty of optimism going around and joy gushes out of everyone. There's plenty to share and more to pass around. I can imagine that it's easy to believe that one's life will be "perfect" from this point forward... but seeing Nick and Kanae was such a beautiful reminder that marriage is not finding someone "perfect," but finding someone and loving them anyway. They know many of the hardships that they'll face from day one... oh, I wish more couples knew this as they approached the altar.
Their love reminded me that marriage is not about happiness, but about holiness. Yes, marriage can and often does and should increase and multiply your joy, but that's not it's sole purpose... it isn't it's end. Rather, marriage is a means through which we can become more and more sanctified.
I thoroughly enjoyed the night... watching them dance together. Yes, they did dance. Watching them laugh and interact with others.
Oh, I really do love weddings :)
Monday, February 13, 2012
Ministry Needs
Below is a letter from my grandma... She and my grandpa were in Colombia recently and she reports a bit about my dad's ministry in Colombia. Please read it :)
February 2012
Dear Friends:
Stan and I just returned from two weeks in Bogota, staying with Beth (our daughter) and Rafael Afanador. During the week we catalogued and got on the shelf new titles in the beautiful, new El Camino library. El Camino has about 300 students and is thriving—but besides work, we had some time for visiting and relaxing too.
In the course of our conversations, it was obvious that Rafael’s heart was deeply troubled. He is struggling right now with an acute financial crisis to keep going, and expand as he feels burdened to do, the Hogar de Paz (Home of Peace) that is held in the first floor of the office of the Maranatha Foundation (FIM), which he directs. The Home is for neighborhood at‐risk children, ages 5‐10. While their parent work, they spend the 1⁄2 day they are not in school at the Home,
having a hot lunch, then getting help with their homework, using the computers, playing, reading, hearing Bible stories, watching Christian kids’ videos, doing crafts, and interacting with volunteers. Right now 20 children come to the center after their public school is out at noon. Rafael feels led to start a morning shift of children so that 20 more can be reached, as well as their families.
The public school is noticing a difference in the children served by the Home. In November, the majority of the FIM kids were given awards for academic and artistic achievement in 2011. The school also celebrated two of the FIM moms and gave them awards for being responsible and exemplary mothers. Their testimony was that they were putting into practice things they have learned at the parent conferences at the Home.
At a parents’ meeting last week, Rafa told them that it looked like the program would not be able to open at the appointed date due to lack of funds, and that it probably would be several more weeks before the Home could reopen for the semester. One mom started crying, saying she had no other options where she felt it was safe to leave her child while she worked. One mom offered to come to cook without pay, and two others offered to come watch the kids at no charge. Unfortunately, legal implications of having moms help out without the proper training and paperwork is a great risk for FIM, so that is not an option. Paid staff right now consists of a director and a cook. Fortunately, volunteers, both missionaries and nationals, frequently come to do special projects with the children, which they love.
A few more stories from the Home families...When Laura was four months old, her parents left her with a friend to care for her—but the parents never came back. The “adopted mom” is a maid and is thankful for the growth she has seen in Laura’s social skills since being in the Home of Peace. Laura, now 9, seems to be more emotionally stable; her adopted mom credits the FIM for fostering this growth.
Dear Friends:
Stan and I just returned from two weeks in Bogota, staying with Beth (our daughter) and Rafael Afanador. During the week we catalogued and got on the shelf new titles in the beautiful, new El Camino library. El Camino has about 300 students and is thriving—but besides work, we had some time for visiting and relaxing too.
In the course of our conversations, it was obvious that Rafael’s heart was deeply troubled. He is struggling right now with an acute financial crisis to keep going, and expand as he feels burdened to do, the Hogar de Paz (Home of Peace) that is held in the first floor of the office of the Maranatha Foundation (FIM), which he directs. The Home is for neighborhood at‐risk children, ages 5‐10. While their parent work, they spend the 1⁄2 day they are not in school at the Home,
having a hot lunch, then getting help with their homework, using the computers, playing, reading, hearing Bible stories, watching Christian kids’ videos, doing crafts, and interacting with volunteers. Right now 20 children come to the center after their public school is out at noon. Rafael feels led to start a morning shift of children so that 20 more can be reached, as well as their families.
The public school is noticing a difference in the children served by the Home. In November, the majority of the FIM kids were given awards for academic and artistic achievement in 2011. The school also celebrated two of the FIM moms and gave them awards for being responsible and exemplary mothers. Their testimony was that they were putting into practice things they have learned at the parent conferences at the Home.
At a parents’ meeting last week, Rafa told them that it looked like the program would not be able to open at the appointed date due to lack of funds, and that it probably would be several more weeks before the Home could reopen for the semester. One mom started crying, saying she had no other options where she felt it was safe to leave her child while she worked. One mom offered to come to cook without pay, and two others offered to come watch the kids at no charge. Unfortunately, legal implications of having moms help out without the proper training and paperwork is a great risk for FIM, so that is not an option. Paid staff right now consists of a director and a cook. Fortunately, volunteers, both missionaries and nationals, frequently come to do special projects with the children, which they love.
A few more stories from the Home families...When Laura was four months old, her parents left her with a friend to care for her—but the parents never came back. The “adopted mom” is a maid and is thankful for the growth she has seen in Laura’s social skills since being in the Home of Peace. Laura, now 9, seems to be more emotionally stable; her adopted mom credits the FIM for fostering this growth.
Nine‐year‐old Juliana is the youngest of four children who came to Bogota about
two years ago to live with her grandma, after she witnessed her father being killed.
Struggling with epilepsy, Juliana feels safe and secure at Home of Peace, and her
mom feels she is beginning to heal from the trauma she has experienced. The
mom is grateful for the spiritual support Juliana has received, as well as the
spiritual guidance she personally has gotten to help her deal with bitterness over
the difficulties experienced by the family. The mom says Juliana has improved
radically in academics and discipline issues due to the structure and lessons she has
learned at FIM.
Three of the moms have professed faith in Christ and have begun attending a local Christian church.
So, God is at work at the Hogar de Paz, but the Foundation needs our help to keep the ministry going, and to expand it to help another 20 at‐risk children and their families. Could you help? What is needed is donors who will pledge to give monthly, so that 40 children can continue benefiting from the opportunities offered at Hogar de Paz, and be fed a nourishing, hot noon meal. As Rafa says, “You can’t feed them for three days, and then, because of lack of money, not feed them the rest of the week. Once you start feeding them, you need to do it on a regular basis.” One‐time gifts are also appreciated, and can be used over the months for food and staff salaries. In addition, one needed project, building enclosed cabinets in the kitchen, will cost about $1,000 for supplies. A large new stove and refrigerator are in place and functioning well.
We trust your heart is touched by what you have heard here, and we hope that you will pray about what God would have you to do to help with this ministry. The situation is critical right now. Your gift could make the difference as to when the Hogar de Paz can reopen and continue to minister in the lives of these wonderful children. The easiest way for you to give would be to deposit a check in checking account 800588529 at any Citibank and send the deposit slip by email to funintermaranata@gmail.com, or send your check (made out to Maranatha International Foundation) to Maranatha International Foundation, 485C Raintree Ct, Glen Ellyn IL 60137. It would be helpful if you indicated whether you are giving a one‐time gift, or will be giving a certain amount on a regular basis.
Thank you for reading this letter. Rafael and the others involved in directing Hogar de Paz would appreciate your continued prayers and support for the ministry with the children being reached from Bogota’s at‐risk community.
In Christ’s love,
Melodee Yohe
Three of the moms have professed faith in Christ and have begun attending a local Christian church.
So, God is at work at the Hogar de Paz, but the Foundation needs our help to keep the ministry going, and to expand it to help another 20 at‐risk children and their families. Could you help? What is needed is donors who will pledge to give monthly, so that 40 children can continue benefiting from the opportunities offered at Hogar de Paz, and be fed a nourishing, hot noon meal. As Rafa says, “You can’t feed them for three days, and then, because of lack of money, not feed them the rest of the week. Once you start feeding them, you need to do it on a regular basis.” One‐time gifts are also appreciated, and can be used over the months for food and staff salaries. In addition, one needed project, building enclosed cabinets in the kitchen, will cost about $1,000 for supplies. A large new stove and refrigerator are in place and functioning well.
We trust your heart is touched by what you have heard here, and we hope that you will pray about what God would have you to do to help with this ministry. The situation is critical right now. Your gift could make the difference as to when the Hogar de Paz can reopen and continue to minister in the lives of these wonderful children. The easiest way for you to give would be to deposit a check in checking account 800588529 at any Citibank and send the deposit slip by email to funintermaranata@gmail.com, or send your check (made out to Maranatha International Foundation) to Maranatha International Foundation, 485C Raintree Ct, Glen Ellyn IL 60137. It would be helpful if you indicated whether you are giving a one‐time gift, or will be giving a certain amount on a regular basis.
Thank you for reading this letter. Rafael and the others involved in directing Hogar de Paz would appreciate your continued prayers and support for the ministry with the children being reached from Bogota’s at‐risk community.
In Christ’s love,
Melodee Yohe
Friday, February 10, 2012
Love 'til it Hurts
And when it hurts, I suppose.
And though you know it'll hurt... right?
Wrong.
Or at least I haven't been doing that. I've been witholding love, knowing that my time here in Illinois is short. I expected to study abroad this Spring so I didn't want to get attached too much before I left. Turns out, I'm still here. Then, I was planning on studying abroad in the Fall and the Spring of my junior year, hoping to let those be my last semesters of university (yes, graduating a year early). Turns out, I'll be here in the Fall and at this rate, maybe I'll be away in the Spring.
I've never experienced this fear of attachment so strongly as I have here in Champaign-Urbana. What in the world? I've always been one to jump into relationships quickly and deeply precisely because I don't know just how much time I may have with them. I want to squeeze as much as I can out of the friendship. I want to soak up all the time I possibly can. I don't want to be able to look back and wish I had given more, shared more... loved more.
But something changed in me when I left Colombia a year and a half ago. As I said goodbye to too many people, too many places, too many times... my mindset switched and something in me began believing: Nothing will ever feel like home... again. And in a way, I was right. Every time I've been home since June 2010, less of my friends are back. My parent's have moved apartments. Last time, my brother wasn't home. Visiting school feels strange... as if I'm the new one there... and in a way... I am.
I'm the new one.
I've changed and been stretched and have grown and have been shaped by new experiences. And home only kind of feels like home anymore.
And so this sickening feeling, leaves me scrambling... But I've realized that instead of truly looking for that rooted sense, I simply guard myself from ever putting roots down. I don't want to be uprooted again-- which I inevitably will be upon graduation.
So, for the last year and a half (save a few exceptions), I've offered friendliness, given smiles, given hugs, had dinner dates, gone on walks, stayed up late, giggled and shared... yet never truly offered a friendship. I've let a precious few into my heart... enough to truly grab hold of the deepest parts of me and when I leave or they do (as they or I inevitably will, or some have already), they will rip out a little piece.
I've resisted attachment with a fierce determination, yet hesitating to admit to even myself for the longest time. It's as if I know that the deeper root of this isn't simply a fear of saying goodbye again, but pure selfishness. I don't want to give and give and give to people who will simply not be in my life (realistically) in the years to come. I don't want to go through the exhausting process of letting people truly know me in each new place I happen to land. It's draining and frankly, I don't always feel like I have the energy that I want to expend on getting to know people... truly getting to know them and to be known by them.
But as I look at the life of Christ, I cannot blame my upbringing where many people were terribly unstable on my lack of initiative here and now. I can't cling to my comfort of knowing that I am loved somewhere by some people that I knew somehow and keep everyone else at a distance. I can't brush off my hesitance to connect and truly love by simply saying, "But I've said too many goodbyes now..." That's not a good excuse.
Sure, it's a reason, but it's not an excuse.
If anyone had an excuse to not love because pain was inevitably coming, it was Jesus. If anyone could justify holding back because people would disappoint, it was Jesus. If anyone could claim that home was elsewhere and this was simply a fleeting reality, it was Jesus. And yet he didn't.
He didn't withhold love. He didn't. He invested and initiated and pursued and fought for and cherished and went out of his way and sought ways of deepening relationships. He allowed 12 men close who would all abandon him, deny him or betray him at one point in his life. He knew it would happen, yet he chose them and he loved them. I've always thought about the sacrifice on God's side... God didn't spare his own son... but it's more than that... Jesus didn't spare his self. Yes, he didn't spare his own life, but he also didn't spare his own love.
And that... that is so powerful.
Love 'til it hurts. And when it hurts. And when it will hurt.
Love. Always.
And though you know it'll hurt... right?
Wrong.
Or at least I haven't been doing that. I've been witholding love, knowing that my time here in Illinois is short. I expected to study abroad this Spring so I didn't want to get attached too much before I left. Turns out, I'm still here. Then, I was planning on studying abroad in the Fall and the Spring of my junior year, hoping to let those be my last semesters of university (yes, graduating a year early). Turns out, I'll be here in the Fall and at this rate, maybe I'll be away in the Spring.
I've never experienced this fear of attachment so strongly as I have here in Champaign-Urbana. What in the world? I've always been one to jump into relationships quickly and deeply precisely because I don't know just how much time I may have with them. I want to squeeze as much as I can out of the friendship. I want to soak up all the time I possibly can. I don't want to be able to look back and wish I had given more, shared more... loved more.
But something changed in me when I left Colombia a year and a half ago. As I said goodbye to too many people, too many places, too many times... my mindset switched and something in me began believing: Nothing will ever feel like home... again. And in a way, I was right. Every time I've been home since June 2010, less of my friends are back. My parent's have moved apartments. Last time, my brother wasn't home. Visiting school feels strange... as if I'm the new one there... and in a way... I am.
I'm the new one.
I've changed and been stretched and have grown and have been shaped by new experiences. And home only kind of feels like home anymore.
And so this sickening feeling, leaves me scrambling... But I've realized that instead of truly looking for that rooted sense, I simply guard myself from ever putting roots down. I don't want to be uprooted again-- which I inevitably will be upon graduation.
So, for the last year and a half (save a few exceptions), I've offered friendliness, given smiles, given hugs, had dinner dates, gone on walks, stayed up late, giggled and shared... yet never truly offered a friendship. I've let a precious few into my heart... enough to truly grab hold of the deepest parts of me and when I leave or they do (as they or I inevitably will, or some have already), they will rip out a little piece.
I've resisted attachment with a fierce determination, yet hesitating to admit to even myself for the longest time. It's as if I know that the deeper root of this isn't simply a fear of saying goodbye again, but pure selfishness. I don't want to give and give and give to people who will simply not be in my life (realistically) in the years to come. I don't want to go through the exhausting process of letting people truly know me in each new place I happen to land. It's draining and frankly, I don't always feel like I have the energy that I want to expend on getting to know people... truly getting to know them and to be known by them.
But as I look at the life of Christ, I cannot blame my upbringing where many people were terribly unstable on my lack of initiative here and now. I can't cling to my comfort of knowing that I am loved somewhere by some people that I knew somehow and keep everyone else at a distance. I can't brush off my hesitance to connect and truly love by simply saying, "But I've said too many goodbyes now..." That's not a good excuse.
Sure, it's a reason, but it's not an excuse.
If anyone had an excuse to not love because pain was inevitably coming, it was Jesus. If anyone could justify holding back because people would disappoint, it was Jesus. If anyone could claim that home was elsewhere and this was simply a fleeting reality, it was Jesus. And yet he didn't.
He didn't withhold love. He didn't. He invested and initiated and pursued and fought for and cherished and went out of his way and sought ways of deepening relationships. He allowed 12 men close who would all abandon him, deny him or betray him at one point in his life. He knew it would happen, yet he chose them and he loved them. I've always thought about the sacrifice on God's side... God didn't spare his own son... but it's more than that... Jesus didn't spare his self. Yes, he didn't spare his own life, but he also didn't spare his own love.
And that... that is so powerful.
Love 'til it hurts. And when it hurts. And when it will hurt.
Love. Always.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Mind of Christ
I want to have the mind of Christ.
Sometimes I get consumed wanting the actions of Christ. I want my outsides-- my exterior-- to closely align with Christ. I want my words to be edifying. I want my smile and hugs to bring joy to the people who surround me. I want to strive for excellence. I want to say the right things at the right times. I want to be composed and seem to perfectly balance my life. I want to have the right answers to tough questions. I want to be inviting and welcoming to strangers. I want my life to look like Christ's.
But more than that... more than my words and more than my actions...
I want the mind of Christ.
My actions are so deceptive... I can be so fickle. I can be grumpy just because I didn't get enough sleep. Or maybe I got enough sleep, but it wasn't good sleep. I can smile and be friendly because I'm lonely and want to fill a social need in me. I can be encouraging because I want to come across as loving; I want "them" to say, "She's so nice." I hate it. I've been told that actions simply reflect someone's heart... someone's mind. And sometimes I agree with that, and sometimes, I just don't. Sure, sooner or later, your heart will come out in your actions, but it's so easy to fake it for so long. My motivations can be so hidden from others... and at times, even from myself. I can, through discipline, change my actions for all practical purposes. I can be doing all the right things but my thoughts and heart can be so far from what I'm doing.
And so, I want the mind of Christ.
I want the deepest part of me... my mind... that secret and intimate place where I process everything... I want that place to reflect Christ. I want that place that is free from constant scrutiny to still show Jesus. Oh, that the place where I take in and process the world be a place that is pure. May my thoughts smell like Jesus... a pleasing aroma. When I make judgements about the people and places around me, may my logic be pleasing to him. When I'm laying awake at night, trying to fall asleep, would my thoughts wander... and would they wander into places that still bring glory to Him.
If we can grant Christ victory in the battlefield of our minds, then our actions follow suit. They genuinely follow. If I can learn, by grace, how to take every thought captive, then Christ has gained a significant victory over sin in my life.
Lately, I've been noticing that my words don't align with my thoughts... and that my thoughts are not Christ's. And I hate it so much. I tried to ignore it for a while, but I could tell that everything was being affected. My prayer life. My attitude. My optimism. My love for others. I couldn't ignore the fact that my mind is a critical battlefield... and lately, I've been feeling on the losing side.
And so, in the depth of my quiet times a new prayer arises.
I want your thoughts. I want the mind of Christ.
Sometimes I get consumed wanting the actions of Christ. I want my outsides-- my exterior-- to closely align with Christ. I want my words to be edifying. I want my smile and hugs to bring joy to the people who surround me. I want to strive for excellence. I want to say the right things at the right times. I want to be composed and seem to perfectly balance my life. I want to have the right answers to tough questions. I want to be inviting and welcoming to strangers. I want my life to look like Christ's.
But more than that... more than my words and more than my actions...
I want the mind of Christ.
My actions are so deceptive... I can be so fickle. I can be grumpy just because I didn't get enough sleep. Or maybe I got enough sleep, but it wasn't good sleep. I can smile and be friendly because I'm lonely and want to fill a social need in me. I can be encouraging because I want to come across as loving; I want "them" to say, "She's so nice." I hate it. I've been told that actions simply reflect someone's heart... someone's mind. And sometimes I agree with that, and sometimes, I just don't. Sure, sooner or later, your heart will come out in your actions, but it's so easy to fake it for so long. My motivations can be so hidden from others... and at times, even from myself. I can, through discipline, change my actions for all practical purposes. I can be doing all the right things but my thoughts and heart can be so far from what I'm doing.
And so, I want the mind of Christ.
I want the deepest part of me... my mind... that secret and intimate place where I process everything... I want that place to reflect Christ. I want that place that is free from constant scrutiny to still show Jesus. Oh, that the place where I take in and process the world be a place that is pure. May my thoughts smell like Jesus... a pleasing aroma. When I make judgements about the people and places around me, may my logic be pleasing to him. When I'm laying awake at night, trying to fall asleep, would my thoughts wander... and would they wander into places that still bring glory to Him.
If we can grant Christ victory in the battlefield of our minds, then our actions follow suit. They genuinely follow. If I can learn, by grace, how to take every thought captive, then Christ has gained a significant victory over sin in my life.
Lately, I've been noticing that my words don't align with my thoughts... and that my thoughts are not Christ's. And I hate it so much. I tried to ignore it for a while, but I could tell that everything was being affected. My prayer life. My attitude. My optimism. My love for others. I couldn't ignore the fact that my mind is a critical battlefield... and lately, I've been feeling on the losing side.
And so, in the depth of my quiet times a new prayer arises.
I want your thoughts. I want the mind of Christ.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Wonderful Birthday
As I write this, I am surrounded by color. I can turn my head slightly up and see lovely balloons. A slight glance to my left and I can behold beautiful roses. Right infront of me, streamers are hanging from our ceiling... and I'm twenty years old.
I'm not sure why, but I was going into this birthday with low expectations. Not sure why I had low expectations, but I just did. My friends or family have never given me any reason to expect a mediocre birthday, and yet, I wasn't letting myself think it'd be that great of a day. I mean, it's just a birthday, right? But in this post I'm going to try and explain how overwhelmed I felt on Monday. I felt SO loved and SO appreciated and SO special... and I thank each and every one of you for playing a role in that.
So, I here's an endeavor... an attempt to give you a snapshot of my wonderful birthday.
At 11:45 pm on January 29, 2012 Chrissy and I found ourselves in our dorm lounge doing some homework. I was texting Sierra and it hit me that I only had fifteen minutes left of being a teenager. "You can't spend your last fifteen minutes doing Arabic homework," Chrissy state matter-of-factly. I knew she was right, but I also knew that I had several hours left of homework. However, I conceded to her her urgings and we finally sprinted upstairs (we had 12 minutes left) to quickly build a fort using sheets in our room. The problem? Tyler was asleep, so we tried to control giggles and whispers to the minimum. We didn't do a very good job, I'm assuming since we ended waking Tyler up. Oops.
At midnight, Chrissy gave me a huge hug and mouthed, "Happy birthday!!" I couldn't stop smiling. She's ridiculous. I got online and Lucas was online ready to wish me a happy birthday as well =) After a quick chat with Lucas, I put on two pairs of tights, a pair of long underwear and a pair of sweatpants. Chrissy grabbed food, her ukelele, camera and computer while I grabbed a blanket... and then off we went to the top of the Krannert building. We had fun recording ourselves in different "accents" and writing songs.
Around 2 am we decided we should get some work done and our fingers were freezing, so we headed back to Busey. We grabbed some soup and black tea and went straight to the kitchen where we proceeded to do three hours of homework, finally getting to bed at 5 am. The next morning, 9:30 am came way too soon. I had been determined to think of my night of sleep as a loooong nap, that way it wouldn't sound so dreadful. But it was dreadful. Buuuuut... lovely door decorations awaited me and it definitely brought a smile to my face seeing cute notes all over my door =)
After a quick shower I was back to doing Arabic homework when I got a phone call from the front desk telling me I had to go pick up flowers. I laughed out loud and shook my head. So down I went. As I neared the desk, I saw a vase of beautiful roses and colorful balloons and a wrapped gift (chocolates!) and a teddy bear. The girl at the front desk mumbled, "Uhh... these are all for you." And I smiled and tried to stumble up the stairs with everything in my hands. Oh Lucas, you really can't do anything half-way, can you?
Luckily, I only had one class on Monday, so after Arabic I had lunch with Chrissy and then got to talk on the phone with my brother, Megan and my dad. It was great. By then, however, I was exhausted, so I decided to take a nap. After my nap, I showered again and decided to get ready for dinner with my lovely roommates.
At 6:00 pm, we left for Olive Garden in a borrowed car (thanks, Calen!). Dinner was great... good food and a lot of fun :) When we got back to our room, I walked in and there were streamers and balloons everywhere. A big "Happy Birthday" was spelled out using sticky notes on my wall.
We ended up taking a lot of fun pictures afterwards and below are my favorites :) If you want to see all of them you can click here.
Really, I was SO overwhelmed by all the love I received on my birthday. Thank you so much for all the texts, the calls, the notes, the letters, the emails, the cards, the Facebook wall posts, the little gifts, the hugs, the smiles, the decorations, the fun :)
I am blessed by all the people in my life... so, so, so blessed :) Thanks!!!
I'm not sure why, but I was going into this birthday with low expectations. Not sure why I had low expectations, but I just did. My friends or family have never given me any reason to expect a mediocre birthday, and yet, I wasn't letting myself think it'd be that great of a day. I mean, it's just a birthday, right? But in this post I'm going to try and explain how overwhelmed I felt on Monday. I felt SO loved and SO appreciated and SO special... and I thank each and every one of you for playing a role in that.
So, I here's an endeavor... an attempt to give you a snapshot of my wonderful birthday.
At 11:45 pm on January 29, 2012 Chrissy and I found ourselves in our dorm lounge doing some homework. I was texting Sierra and it hit me that I only had fifteen minutes left of being a teenager. "You can't spend your last fifteen minutes doing Arabic homework," Chrissy state matter-of-factly. I knew she was right, but I also knew that I had several hours left of homework. However, I conceded to her her urgings and we finally sprinted upstairs (we had 12 minutes left) to quickly build a fort using sheets in our room. The problem? Tyler was asleep, so we tried to control giggles and whispers to the minimum. We didn't do a very good job, I'm assuming since we ended waking Tyler up. Oops.
At midnight, Chrissy gave me a huge hug and mouthed, "Happy birthday!!" I couldn't stop smiling. She's ridiculous. I got online and Lucas was online ready to wish me a happy birthday as well =) After a quick chat with Lucas, I put on two pairs of tights, a pair of long underwear and a pair of sweatpants. Chrissy grabbed food, her ukelele, camera and computer while I grabbed a blanket... and then off we went to the top of the Krannert building. We had fun recording ourselves in different "accents" and writing songs.
Around 2 am we decided we should get some work done and our fingers were freezing, so we headed back to Busey. We grabbed some soup and black tea and went straight to the kitchen where we proceeded to do three hours of homework, finally getting to bed at 5 am. The next morning, 9:30 am came way too soon. I had been determined to think of my night of sleep as a loooong nap, that way it wouldn't sound so dreadful. But it was dreadful. Buuuuut... lovely door decorations awaited me and it definitely brought a smile to my face seeing cute notes all over my door =)
After a quick shower I was back to doing Arabic homework when I got a phone call from the front desk telling me I had to go pick up flowers. I laughed out loud and shook my head. So down I went. As I neared the desk, I saw a vase of beautiful roses and colorful balloons and a wrapped gift (chocolates!) and a teddy bear. The girl at the front desk mumbled, "Uhh... these are all for you." And I smiled and tried to stumble up the stairs with everything in my hands. Oh Lucas, you really can't do anything half-way, can you?
Luckily, I only had one class on Monday, so after Arabic I had lunch with Chrissy and then got to talk on the phone with my brother, Megan and my dad. It was great. By then, however, I was exhausted, so I decided to take a nap. After my nap, I showered again and decided to get ready for dinner with my lovely roommates.
At 6:00 pm, we left for Olive Garden in a borrowed car (thanks, Calen!). Dinner was great... good food and a lot of fun :) When we got back to our room, I walked in and there were streamers and balloons everywhere. A big "Happy Birthday" was spelled out using sticky notes on my wall.
We ended up taking a lot of fun pictures afterwards and below are my favorites :) If you want to see all of them you can click here.
Really, I was SO overwhelmed by all the love I received on my birthday. Thank you so much for all the texts, the calls, the notes, the letters, the emails, the cards, the Facebook wall posts, the little gifts, the hugs, the smiles, the decorations, the fun :)
I am blessed by all the people in my life... so, so, so blessed :) Thanks!!!
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