Hands off MY food!

A few days ago, I ran back to my cabin to make my lunch.  I sliced some beautiful green apples and arranged some sweet juicy strawberries on a plate.  I cut into an orange, a perfect orange, that I had to climb a tree like Tarzan to obtain.  I pulled out all the stops-- even allowing myself a spoonful of peanut butter for the apple and the more expensive kiwi that I bought myself as a treat. Imagine everything you have ever dreamed about as far as the juiciest, tastiest, most delectable fruit.  That was my plate for lunch. My mouth is watering just thinking about all of that crazy deliciousness as I write this post right now.

I gathered up that plate of heaven and walked over to the school so I could eat with the other teachers for lunch.  I sat down and before I knew what was happening, a variety of hands started rushing to the plate.  No inquiries for permission, just hums of satisfaction as the teachers chewed those delicious fruits.  MY delicious fruit.   

"Que rico!" "Soooo tasty!"

My heart sank as it looked at the remnants of the once overflowing plate.  Soon, blood started to boil, and I used my fork to STAB into the last slivers of kiwi (I don't think anyone noticed the ogreish disgruntled attitude) Questions of manners flooded my brain - Did they not know that was MY lunch?  How rude!

Later that night, after my blood returned to its normal temperature, I was hanging out with some boys from youth group.  As we talked and laughed together, two boys opened their personal sized chip bags (the ones that have maybe 10 chips inside).  And you want to know what they did? They walked around the room to the other 3 of us and offered us a snack.  And at their action, cultural values smacked me in the face.  Ouch!

I remembered how the fruit event had led to confusion and frustration.  It had caused  judgement and a lack of understanding towards those hungry teachers.  I was quick to label them as thieves of my scrumptious food and my minutes of delight.  Their approach to food was DIFFERENT than mine.   Back home, we ask politely or assume something is someone else's until they offer (unless we are trying to steal our siblings french fries) -- but that's our food custom.  Here in Ecuador, you bring something to a group, you share.  Automatically.  Your plate is not yours.  Talk about having one of my sweet cultural customs stripped from my hands.  

Now, with my eyes opened a little wider, I am able to see this Ecuadorian value and their custom.  My individualistic (and often selfish) American self can learn a great deal from Ecuador.  This cultural difference - offering what I have to my community, even if it is a bag  of 10 chips or the most delicious of fruit, is kinda awesome. It discourages my selfishness and I need that.  

I need that a lot. 

Here's to learning more things about/from other cultures!

-kc

Have you ever had a cultural hiccup?

Jungle Stories // Eye Monster

I wake up in a zombie like fashion complete with the groaning and slow movement.  I gather all of my school things and struggle to remember how to put socks on correctly.

"Coffee....coffee..." I grumble as I rub my eyes in a stupor and head for the coffee pot.

A little while later, I am in the middle of my English class teaching about family words.  "BABY, SISTER, BROTHER!" we shout as a class.

Suddenly, my eye starts itching uncontrollably.  Three students look up at me and one shouts,

 "Miss Keri! El ojo es rojo! EYE RED!!! Tu eye es big! EYEEEEEE!!!!!"

The bell rings and I sprint to the bathroom.  I look into the mirror and barely recognize myself.

I stare back at a nearly cyclops face with an eye that seems to be on a mission to take over my nose and my other eye.  My sclera has even transformed from its typical cloudy white color.  It is now a  mix between scrumptious tomato and fire engine red.

I try to wash the eye--which is now becoming a size that only Wile E. Coyote has ever experienced.  I run to my cabin knowing this is some allergic reaction.  I throw medicine all over the counter.

"Ben....a....WHAT?"

I struggle to read the medicine bottle with my one good eye.  "I think this is it," I comment as I propel Benadryl into my mouth and chug a glass of water.

3 hours later, I awake in another zombie like state. The eye no longer itches, and I can actually look into the mirror without scaring myself completely.  No hospital visits today.

"How did this happen?" you might ask.  Upon further investigation, the culprit is a jungle moth.  Yes, you heard me.  The powder from the wings of this crazy creature somehow got on my pillow in the morning, caused my allergic reaction, and made my eye so distorted I scared little children.  Score for jungle critters.

love and monkeys,
jungle lady

Feliz Navidad, burning dolls, and recent happenings

Bethlehem in the Jungle




Roman soldier out of cardboard.

One Christmas program.  400 invited.  60 students. One Jungle.  

The night of the program really began weeks before: building structures for each class, sending invitations, cutting down trees, cutting up cardboard to make an awesome Roman soldier costume.  I walked over the rocks with my time spreadsheets and colored wristbands.  My walk was directed by the focus needed to coordinate the event.  I almost forgot what I was wearing.

I saw this face.  It was not until I passed by it and some shepherds that I remembered.  Oh, sweet little Erick.  Fear and confusion were in his eyes as he asked, “Miss Keri?!????????”

Erick the shepherd.

About 2 hours later, and after yelling “RAPIDO!” MUEVETE!” in my best Spanish Roman soldier accent, we only had 1 group left.
  
But then, the sky opened up.  Completely.  

I forgot that I live in the rain-forest.   “AYUDAME!” I looked to the right and saw parents desperately scurrying for shelter underneath the little tent coverings.  “LLUVIA!” I examined the left and saw teachers desperately trying to cover speakers and other electrical equipment.  The rain was not sprinkling, or even pouring, it seemed like it was trying to flood the entire property.  

What are we going to do?



They made this thing out of leaves. 

These people are going to kill me.  

Can I magically create 40 umbrellas for the last group of parents?

I wish I was Mary Poppins.  She is good at these things. 




Somehow it just happened.  Roberto directed us to the extra tent. The team of youth and I grabbed it and followed the last group of parents covering them as we soaked ourselves throughout Bethlehem. The last group finished singing to Mary and Joseph and then there was applause.  Such a sweet sound.  We made it.  And even with smiles as parents and children left running for home despite the downpour.  

Mi Navidad

Thanks to the wonderful Christy, friends and I had the opportunity to spend Christmas in the cold of Quito.  Fire sizzling, my first turkey cooking, Michael Buble singing, cheesecake preparing, Christmas lights sparkling, and advent wreath glowing.  Oh, and since it’s Ecuador, don’t forget those fireworks exploding.  It was absolutely refreshing :) During this time, I desperately missed dear loved ones living continents away, but I also realized how much thankfulness I have. Specifically, for the little Christmas things and for a Savior who is always with me (and cannot be separated by longitudes or latitudes).  

He was a baby, a child, a man, and then died-- for me.  How often do I fail to be thankful for that remarkable and astonishing fact throughout the year?  Please read this post from a friend who poses the question “Merry Christmas....now what?”

I want to VIBRANTLY live for Him, glorify Him, and give thanks to Him all year round. Not just at Christmas.

The Ecuador New Year vs. My New Year

Possible poison from that warlike rainfall or water filtration issues kept me away from New Year's shenanigans.  I stayed curled up in bed listening to Cumbia and Salsa music blasting from across the river.  Soon, the music intertwined with firework screeches and squalls.  My new favorite possession is my large pack of earplugs I keep beside my bed.  

I did get a chance to watch the ball drop on YouTube....I think it was from 2013.  Whoops.   

I think New Year's Eve really turns into New Year's week here.  Fireworks begin detonating days before 2014 even starts thinking about showing up.   One of the biggest traditions is the burning of these almost human-size dolls called "Los Años Viejos" (The Old Years).  Almost the minute after Christmas ends, the streets start lining up with these effigies with faces anywhere from politicians to Spiderman.  At the stroke of midnight, people burn their doll in hopes to burn away the old year in order to be ready for the new.  All of the bad of the year is cast upon the doll, that "dies" at midnight as it is burned in flames.  As Ecuadorian friends were telling me about the tradition, my mind thought about the cultural training I received at Missions Training International just a few months ago.  I thought this tradition would have made it to the discussion list--- aspects of the culture.

 Burning cardboard and sand dust will not make sufferings, mistakes, or the bad disappear.  How then is there good news for 2014? What must we do?  It is not what we must do, but what He did.  My hope for this year is that more Ecuadorians will know He who says "Behold, I make all things new." -Revelation 21:5 

Latest Happenings

I am a busy lady.  We have the end of our semester rushing upon us, so I am of course frantically grading, exam planning, thinking about climbing trees with some monkeys, etc.  I do love going into town to see these little ones on the right :)

Prayer requests:

Nurse team that will be here soon

Drama/Youth will be restarting officially next week

Fundraising for a car/scooter into town for transportation

Fundraising for the youth group

Much love and more updates to come!

1 John 4:7,

Keri 

OH I KNOW YOU WERE WAITING FOR IT.  ROMAN SOLDIER PARTY TIME.

busy woman

Hello my lovely readers, I promise I have not forgotten you.

Lesbe honest...

I have not purposefully forgotten you. My mind has been busy with lots of hecticness and leaving places so here is the overview:

Goodbyes to Colorado and the wonderful cross-cultural and language training. Those were phenomenal, but nothing compared to the wonderfully awesome, hillarious, and joyful people that were in my life for four weeks.

Chao chaos to Tennessee and the Orphanos family, the Sullivan family, Braircrest Highschool (and public speaking wheew), and the friends. Thank you for listening to me and for showing me your beautiful passion for justice and orphans.

HELLOS to my crazy awesome family, supporters, and this town full of Southern food. Sweet tea. Here I come.

 PS. I updated the blog. If you like it- boo yah thanks! If you don't like it- that's sad. And you should go jump in a puddle. Maybe it will make you happier. But if you are nice, you can comment about things that I should change. Be nice. I am a bit technologically challenged.

PPS. HUGE shout out to Eric for giving me an iphone :) It was a wonderful surprise and I think it has already saved me many times now. It makes me happy knowing my phone has some intelligence.

Love and lovely fall leaves,
keri

привет ....

I have decided to just show a picture of my journal from the last 2 days of language learning.  

Language learning.  I bet as some of you are reading this, you even cringe just a little (or hey maybe a lot) at those words.  I was right there.  I remember the countless hours both studying or sitting in Spanish class....

tengo

tienes 

tiene           etc. etc. etc.

Grammar.  Memorization.  That was life.  That was how the language would be learned.  Just one Spanish lecture at UNC pretty much slammed my lack of Spanish skill right in my face.  I had absolutely no idea how to speak the crazy language.  Later, I found myself immersed and loving life in Peru-- finally learning how to converse, because it was my means of survival.  However, I still struggle sometimes with words, phrases, particular accents, or just mind burps.  

In one of our classes today our professor said, "Language is a creative production."

"Language is a creative production."

 I actually envision a conductor and then this beautiful symphony of language being heard.  I have never thought language to be creative.  It has always been that super boring, annoying, or frustrating thing at the back of my mind.  Something that I always desire to do well, but never seem able to master or develop.  However, my thoughts on the matter are changing.  I am seeing some amazing techniques to learning---and I have started to actually become curious about language.  

Wonder about language?!???? 

I know.  I used to think the same.  Now, I can see how in just two days, I have been able to retain and speak various phrases in Russian.  A language with an alphabet so strange and foreign to my eyes, I cannot even attempt to describe it.  I sometimes wonder how the training here works....but it just does.  Learning is not just about written memorization.  I now am aware of the possibility to learn new languages.  I have hope as I see the way that my little brain is activated.  I am excited as I learn to lead my own learning and I see the goodness in language.  It is the wonderful ability we have to express and communicate in this world.  Language is almost like a little key helping you to enter into the door of someone's world--so that you can build those wonderful relationships.  It is one of my tools to go out and love like God loves.  Oh, what a crazy, lovely thing. 

How is language learning for YOU??? Leave some comments :D

Пока! (Goodbye in Russian),
Keri

Missionaries, mountains, and mafia

I have officially been here at training for a week and a half.  And that seems a little crazy.  So much time, but so little time. There is no way to cover the last few days in a short post, but I will try.  

This past weekend, a friend invited a group of us to visit Mt. Evans.  The car ride began early in the morning, but within what seemed like moments, bright yellow aspens flew by us in every window.  I am honestly surprised we did not drive off the side of the cliff in our amazement at the colors.  Giddiness in the beauty ranged from jumping up and down to evil laughs.  My eyes were entranced with the greens, oranges, reds, and yellows, and the snow-capped mountains  as we climbed up, up, up into the atmosphere.

Mt. Evans.  Snow.  Lakes.  Towering above miles and miles and miles of other mountains and other lands.  It made me feel so small.  In our Growth groups here at training, we have discussed how that is such a wonderful thing- recognizing that we need to realize who we are and how grandiose this world is.  How often do I get stressed, anxious, preocupada, when I get caught up in "my world" rather than remembering I am just a part of "the world"?  I am so thankful He has got this.

The weekend ended with a Sunday night of mafia.  Mafia with missionaries.  There were spouses turning on spouses, debates that lasted minutes, narration at its finest, and laughter that never ever stopped. If I wasn't so focused at trying to prove my innocence every round (apparently getting excited about the game will give everyone a reason claim your guilt for the rest of eternity), I would have just loved to sit and watch.  I cannot explain my love of this simple silliness and togetherness.  The people here are amazing, and it has been so wonderful connecting with people that so easily understand some of your deepest losses, fears, and loves.  

I have oh so much sleep that is needed, and oh so much mafia strategy to plan.  Look out.

Love and blue birds,
Keri  

Goo goo gaa gaa. Muu muu maa maa.

"I cannot make my lips move like that."

"The tongue needs to do what?!?"

"You want me to make the letter m come out of my nose?"

These were all just some of the questions the last few days in world language training.  I honestly do not remember if they were questions in class or ones that just popped into my head throughout the day.  We have gone over sounds, voice stops, and other phonetics-- leaving my mouth feel like it just went to the gym to do some hardcore workout.  I am not kidding.  Russian, Hindi, Mandarin, Jeh, Spanish, Swahili. These muscles are sore at the end of the day.  Goo goo gaa gaa. Muu muu maa maa.  

It has been crazy, but really good.  I am excited for how this will prepare me for Spanish, Kichwa, and any other languages that might pop up in my life.  

For those that I forgot to inform or those that have simply forgotten, I am currently at Missions Training International in Colorado.  It has been amazing.  I definitely arrived the first day and felt like I flashed back to middle school.  My awkward self desiring to make friends, but not knowing how to speak to others.  BUT this amazing thing happened (in addition to the majority of my inner awkwardness going away).  Community.  Community that happened in a few days. Something I have been desiring desperately for the last year in the jungle.  I love little joys.  

I also cannot believe this joy of beauty that is right outside my window.  I have decided to name these beauties green mountain majesties and gargantuan rockin rocks.  There is even beauty on the inside of the window. Honesty.  Authenticity.  Laughter.  Amazing love of parents for their adorable children.  Wonderful words of wisdom.  Conversations about struggles and fears on the field.  Excitement for the ministries of others all over this whole wide wide world.  

All of that mixed with the hope of mastering (or better yet just developing) language and cultural learning makes all the small challenges seem just that-- small.  Even the challenges where I am learning to to say Achmed, "A" "C" "PHLEGM".  Oh, so much phlegm.  

Always in wonder and laughter,

Keri