I woke up this morning having no idea what to share this week. We were going to celebrate a confirmation today, but due to some health problems, the family understandably canceled. With my topic for the week being canceled, I was left scrounging for ideas. I decided to post-pone writing for awhile, so I went up the mountain. As I was finishing my time up there, a wonderful hour by the way, I was reminded of what's to come.
Next week there likely won't be a post. Sometime next Saturday morning, probably fairly early, I will be leaving for a three-day retreat. That's right, a retreat, in Mexico, with a lot of people I don't know. The church we attend is holding their youth retreat, and Adrian and Vero helped head up the event. We won't even be at school on Monday, but rather continue experiencing the Spirit and say our good-byes to new friends.
Shortly after I arrived, Krista and I went to a youth meeting after church; we were both fairly lost and didn't do much more with the group aside from the sleep-over party for Independence Day. As we heard more and more about this retreat, a few people started asking me if I was planning to go. I considered it, and I prayed about it; I asked Julie some questions about the event, and I realized I was just making excuses to not go. A month or so ago, I put my name down and paid for the trip in whole. I wasn't going to let myself back out.
The event will have a few other local churches as well as our own attending. Adrian, Vero, Martita, Angie, and Vicky are all going, and the girls had commented that the leaders tend to break us up. I left it to God to decide if I need to be with someone from the ranch or not. I guess I'll find out for sure next Saturday what His answer is. For the past few weeks I've been praying to be prepared for this. Since my first Sunday I've understood at least parts of each sermon, and it's no coincidence that a lot of those parts are what hit me deeply. I trust that the messages shared next weekend will reveal some amazing things not only to me, but to all who attend. I ask that you would pray this week and next weekend for all of us who are opening ourselves even more to God's will, and that He would make His presence known.
I apologize that I don't have any cute or funny stories this week, but I honestly feel that right now we need prayer for this retreat and that those who need to go will make the final decision to join us.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Your Love
As I was sitting on my rock this morning, thinking about the Lord and doing my devotions, my mind kept wandering. I found myself thinking about August 22, at 5-something in the morning, when my family and I were on our way to the Indy airport. I was scared that morning, filled with fears, what-ifs, sadness, and even a bit of regret. I doubt that anyone else in my family could tell you what we were listening to during that hour-long drive, but I remember.
Dad had his iPod playing, and one song popped on that hit me deeper than anything. "Your Love" by Sonicflood came on and filled the truck. I was staring out the window at the dark, flat land, and thinking about all that I was leaving behind. When I heard the song start, I knew it was a familiar one, but it was also one of the songs that I only knew from childhood. It had been years since I recalled singing along with those words, and they were long forgotten in my mind. As I listened to the refrain, which is how the song starts out, tears filled my eyes.
"Your love, give me Your love
To fill up my heart.
Your peace, give me Your peace
To comfort my soul.
Your joy, give me Your joy
To shine through the dark.
Change me oh Lord,
For my life is Yours!"
Love, peace, and joy, I found myself silently praying those lyrics until the song's end. I hadn't realized until now that I was really praying as I listened to, registered, and cherished each word that came through those speakers. However, God heard the prayer, the prayer that I didn't even know I was giving. He's answered that prayer so thoroughly, and I can't believe I've overlooked so much of it!
Love. Leaving behind my family, seeing all of my friends go on with their lives, feeling an immense fear of not only what awaited me in Mexico, but also what I would have to come home to when I finished my 6 month stay, saying it was hard doesn't scratch the surface. God knew all that, He knew I would feel alone, so He gave me blessing after blessing here. He called two young women to work here at the same time as me. He blessed Refuge Ranch with amazing staff and children who not only are good at distracting you from sadness, but are also godly individuals who know what to say when you need to hear a few words. God's given me a family here, through Vicky and Krista, through every child here, through Victor who can remind me of my dad and has put a smile on my face countless times from that fact alone. He's blessed me with love from Mireya who always has a word of encouragement, a hug, or even a faith that can keep me going. The Lord's also given me a love for the nature in general. The hills, "my rock," the park, our freezing school, the view of Popocatepetl, even the way of life here, it's all become "home." I woke up this morning and smiled, "Home sweet home," I sighed to myself.
Peace. There's no doubt that I was anything but peaceful August 22. Even as I pulled up in front of the house for the first time, I was a bundle of nerves. I won't say that life's easy, or that it's always calm. It's never calm here, but there's peace. As I've settled in here, as I've gotten used to the fact that nothing is ever quite the same, and that anything can happen, God's given me peace. I remember at camp this past summer, there was a day when we were told to find our own little place. We were then told to close our eyes and let go of everything in our minds, to give any concern or care to the Lord in that moment. When we did, we were told to listen, nothing more but to listen and relax. On that day, many of us experienced the peace of God. I've used that experience several times. I've gone to my rock and relaxed. I've gone up the mountain in the morning grumbling that I make myself get up so early or that there's other things I could be doing, but I come down singing, dancing, and prayerfully talking to the Lord. He's given me peace to take on each day with an open mind and heart. If it weren't for that peace, the knowledge that He will carry me through the roughest parts of the day, I could not be teaching English and Kindergarten, reading with kids regularly, working in the school every morning, and still maintain my sanity.
Joy. Now for the best one of all. Back in the US, I had my limits. The easiest way to explain it is that I acted as mature as possible as much as possible. I sat out of fun because it seemed immature or too much. Here, I've been shown a joy, a true joy. In serving, in playing, in putting a smile on a face. "It's better to give than to receive." I've heard it a million times, I knew more or less it was true, but when I got here, some of their giving seemed insane. My first week and kids were asking for my water; if I bought a snack, everyone wanted to share with me, but now, it's second nature. You want a drink, here's my bottle; you want to listen to music, here's my MP3; you want to check out my Kindle, ok, just be careful. Here, would you like a cookie? It's nothing to give away something you don't need, and to see a face glow, it's something else entirely. Then there are the movie nights, the make overs, the random dancing and running. How many times did I tell my cousin, "No you can't do my hair!" but here, I've let a 10-girl old and a 12-year old do my make-up and hair; I've let Angie do strange hairstyles; I've danced like a 3 year-old in the living room; I've given away things, and I've accepted things; I've gone sliding with David and played Wii with Joce. They've joked that they'll make me crazy before I leave, but I think they'll just make me a human finally.
Lord, thank you for the love you've shown me, the peace you bring me daily, and the joy that you've opened my eyes to.
Dad had his iPod playing, and one song popped on that hit me deeper than anything. "Your Love" by Sonicflood came on and filled the truck. I was staring out the window at the dark, flat land, and thinking about all that I was leaving behind. When I heard the song start, I knew it was a familiar one, but it was also one of the songs that I only knew from childhood. It had been years since I recalled singing along with those words, and they were long forgotten in my mind. As I listened to the refrain, which is how the song starts out, tears filled my eyes.
"Your love, give me Your love
To fill up my heart.
Your peace, give me Your peace
To comfort my soul.
Your joy, give me Your joy
To shine through the dark.
Change me oh Lord,
For my life is Yours!"
Love, peace, and joy, I found myself silently praying those lyrics until the song's end. I hadn't realized until now that I was really praying as I listened to, registered, and cherished each word that came through those speakers. However, God heard the prayer, the prayer that I didn't even know I was giving. He's answered that prayer so thoroughly, and I can't believe I've overlooked so much of it!
Love. Leaving behind my family, seeing all of my friends go on with their lives, feeling an immense fear of not only what awaited me in Mexico, but also what I would have to come home to when I finished my 6 month stay, saying it was hard doesn't scratch the surface. God knew all that, He knew I would feel alone, so He gave me blessing after blessing here. He called two young women to work here at the same time as me. He blessed Refuge Ranch with amazing staff and children who not only are good at distracting you from sadness, but are also godly individuals who know what to say when you need to hear a few words. God's given me a family here, through Vicky and Krista, through every child here, through Victor who can remind me of my dad and has put a smile on my face countless times from that fact alone. He's blessed me with love from Mireya who always has a word of encouragement, a hug, or even a faith that can keep me going. The Lord's also given me a love for the nature in general. The hills, "my rock," the park, our freezing school, the view of Popocatepetl, even the way of life here, it's all become "home." I woke up this morning and smiled, "Home sweet home," I sighed to myself.
Peace. There's no doubt that I was anything but peaceful August 22. Even as I pulled up in front of the house for the first time, I was a bundle of nerves. I won't say that life's easy, or that it's always calm. It's never calm here, but there's peace. As I've settled in here, as I've gotten used to the fact that nothing is ever quite the same, and that anything can happen, God's given me peace. I remember at camp this past summer, there was a day when we were told to find our own little place. We were then told to close our eyes and let go of everything in our minds, to give any concern or care to the Lord in that moment. When we did, we were told to listen, nothing more but to listen and relax. On that day, many of us experienced the peace of God. I've used that experience several times. I've gone to my rock and relaxed. I've gone up the mountain in the morning grumbling that I make myself get up so early or that there's other things I could be doing, but I come down singing, dancing, and prayerfully talking to the Lord. He's given me peace to take on each day with an open mind and heart. If it weren't for that peace, the knowledge that He will carry me through the roughest parts of the day, I could not be teaching English and Kindergarten, reading with kids regularly, working in the school every morning, and still maintain my sanity.
Joy. Now for the best one of all. Back in the US, I had my limits. The easiest way to explain it is that I acted as mature as possible as much as possible. I sat out of fun because it seemed immature or too much. Here, I've been shown a joy, a true joy. In serving, in playing, in putting a smile on a face. "It's better to give than to receive." I've heard it a million times, I knew more or less it was true, but when I got here, some of their giving seemed insane. My first week and kids were asking for my water; if I bought a snack, everyone wanted to share with me, but now, it's second nature. You want a drink, here's my bottle; you want to listen to music, here's my MP3; you want to check out my Kindle, ok, just be careful. Here, would you like a cookie? It's nothing to give away something you don't need, and to see a face glow, it's something else entirely. Then there are the movie nights, the make overs, the random dancing and running. How many times did I tell my cousin, "No you can't do my hair!" but here, I've let a 10-girl old and a 12-year old do my make-up and hair; I've let Angie do strange hairstyles; I've danced like a 3 year-old in the living room; I've given away things, and I've accepted things; I've gone sliding with David and played Wii with Joce. They've joked that they'll make me crazy before I leave, but I think they'll just make me a human finally.
Lord, thank you for the love you've shown me, the peace you bring me daily, and the joy that you've opened my eyes to.
Thanksgiving
It seems everyone I talk with has been filled with curiosity about our Thanksgiving celebration. Thanksgiving, believe it or not, is not an international holiday. Why would it be? Since Julie is from the US, and she grew up with American customs, Refuge Ranch does celebrate Thanksgiving. Wednesday night, we started the cooking for Thanksgiving. I peeled the sweet potatoes (camotes) with Martha's help. Meanwhile, the younger kids who wanted to help were sent to the green beans with Vicky to break them. After we finished our jobs, Martita took over the kitchen to prepare the pie crust for pecan pies. I think we ended up with six or seven pies by the time she finished. Sadly, I didn't think to bring my camera down for pictures, so I only have photos of the cooking on Thanksgiving Day.
Thursday, the real work began. I was charged with the sweet potato casserole, and I made a special request home for a copy of our family recipe.
I wasn't kidding when I said I peeled the sweet potatoes. You can't buy canned yams here, so we pressure cooked the camotes Wednesday night, and I got to mash them Thursday morning. I used the purple cup, which fit like a glove!
We wanted to use all of the camote that we had; the recipe called for 3 cups. I had to measure out how much camote there was to know how many times to multiply the recipe. I was able to triple the recipe, which is a LOT of sweet potato casserole!
In case you didn't believe me about there being a lot of casserole, this is one of those big aluminum pans that are used at church or school functions to serve potato salad or something like that. It was a real challenge to get this thing up to the apartment so Adrian could cook it.
Here's all that I used to make the casserole itself. The topping was a different story.
Butter. This was the biggest struggle! I needed 3 cups of butter for the topping. Have you ever tried guestimating how much of a butter cube makes 3 cups?!
Cutting the butter was only part of the problem. I couldn't manage to measure out the melted butter correctly. First, I managed to melt 1/2 cup and I turned off the stove and rinsed my pot before I realized I was way below what I needed. Then, I melted enough to take care of 1 batch of topping, but I was tripling the recipe. My third attempt, I measured to the wrong line. If you look at the cup-thing beside the butter, it's a measuring cup that works for dry and liquid ingredients. I measured with the dry rather than the liquid. Finally, I managed to get the butter I needed.
Take a good look at the white bag beside the bowl. THAT'S how much flour that we had!
Dinner was held for a total of 34 people, including Mireya's family, the Zaragozas, Cerino's family, Adrian and Vero, Vicky, Rosa, myself, Diana came home for the meal, and we also had Niyeli and Marisol.
As a tradition, there is an activity that allows everyone to share what they thank God for. In past years there have been cards, banners, and I'm not sure what else in the past. This year, however, we had a "Graffiti Wall of Thankfulness!"
Here's one of the kid's messages. "Thank-you God for my life and for being my father."
Another tradition around here is that the day after Thanksgiving, the family goes to get their Christmas tree. We went up to the volcano, or around that area. Can you imagine walking around to cut down a Christmas tree all the while dying to ditch your sweatshirt? We had a great time, and got to have a picnic lunch and go play on rickety wooden bridges before going home. Pictures will go up on Facebook since it's a bit difficult to put them on here. After we got home, the family proceeded to decorate the tree and rearrange the house. I went up to my room and got to have a nice visit with my family during this time, so there are a lot of decorating photos that I missed, but I wouldn't have missed the Skype call home for anything. I got to see family that I hadn't seen since the start of summer at least.
Thank-you Lord for all that you've blessed us with, for the ability to see my family, for giving me family here, and for never leaving us, even when we wish you would!
Thursday, the real work began. I was charged with the sweet potato casserole, and I made a special request home for a copy of our family recipe.
We wanted to use all of the camote that we had; the recipe called for 3 cups. I had to measure out how much camote there was to know how many times to multiply the recipe. I was able to triple the recipe, which is a LOT of sweet potato casserole!In case you didn't believe me about there being a lot of casserole, this is one of those big aluminum pans that are used at church or school functions to serve potato salad or something like that. It was a real challenge to get this thing up to the apartment so Adrian could cook it.
Here's all that I used to make the casserole itself. The topping was a different story.
Butter. This was the biggest struggle! I needed 3 cups of butter for the topping. Have you ever tried guestimating how much of a butter cube makes 3 cups?!
Cutting the butter was only part of the problem. I couldn't manage to measure out the melted butter correctly. First, I managed to melt 1/2 cup and I turned off the stove and rinsed my pot before I realized I was way below what I needed. Then, I melted enough to take care of 1 batch of topping, but I was tripling the recipe. My third attempt, I measured to the wrong line. If you look at the cup-thing beside the butter, it's a measuring cup that works for dry and liquid ingredients. I measured with the dry rather than the liquid. Finally, I managed to get the butter I needed.
Dinner was held for a total of 34 people, including Mireya's family, the Zaragozas, Cerino's family, Adrian and Vero, Vicky, Rosa, myself, Diana came home for the meal, and we also had Niyeli and Marisol.
As a tradition, there is an activity that allows everyone to share what they thank God for. In past years there have been cards, banners, and I'm not sure what else in the past. This year, however, we had a "Graffiti Wall of Thankfulness!"
Here's one of the kid's messages. "Thank-you God for my life and for being my father."
Another tradition around here is that the day after Thanksgiving, the family goes to get their Christmas tree. We went up to the volcano, or around that area. Can you imagine walking around to cut down a Christmas tree all the while dying to ditch your sweatshirt? We had a great time, and got to have a picnic lunch and go play on rickety wooden bridges before going home. Pictures will go up on Facebook since it's a bit difficult to put them on here. After we got home, the family proceeded to decorate the tree and rearrange the house. I went up to my room and got to have a nice visit with my family during this time, so there are a lot of decorating photos that I missed, but I wouldn't have missed the Skype call home for anything. I got to see family that I hadn't seen since the start of summer at least.
Thank-you Lord for all that you've blessed us with, for the ability to see my family, for giving me family here, and for never leaving us, even when we wish you would!
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