A First

I did something yesterday that I have never ever done before.

I went to see a movie by myself.

And I don't mean the-rent-a-movie, curl up on the couch, kind-of-see-a-movie. No, I actually I took myself to see a movie in a movie theater. gulp. I don't know why this was such a big deal. I will gladly sit in a coffee shop by myself for hours or go to dinner by myself. Heck, I'll even travel to a foreign country by myself. But somehow the unfamiliar terrain of going to a movie by myself felt like the epitome of awkwardness.

I know people do it, but this was a first for me. One of my friends swears it's the best experience to sit by yourself in a big theater and be completely absorbed into a movie. I am not sure if I buy into that just yet. Perhaps one of the main reasons is because I am a "verbal processor" (yes, you can insert the word talker if you like). I like to talk about the movie- before it starts, during and after its over. This probably breaks some common social norms (especially the talking during the movie part) and annoys my friends and family, but its true.

After standing in line to buy a ticket, silently praying that I wouldn’t see anyone I knew, I walked into the theater. I had tried to time it just right, so the previews would have already started and it would be dark by the time I walked in. Low and behold, the previews has started (phew) and it was dark (yessss!) but it was also almost completely full (oh, crap.) I had not prepared for this. I paced back and worth in the back, trying to decide which row of people looked the smallest so I could gracefully squeeze by them without making a scene. Scanning the audience in the dark I found a row in the back corner, and I not so gracefully climbed over two elderly people and nestled down into my seat against the wall.


For the next 120 minutes I was thoroughly entertained and impressed by one of thee best movies I have seen in a long time; Slumdog Millionaire. I loved it. It captures the typical rags-to-riches story, but with a beauty and depth set in modern day India. I tend to like these somewhat intense, dramatic films that trace pieces of the human experience in a culture and language different from my own. It's definitely worth seeing. Maybe even by yourself.

Back Where I Started

Rancho Cucamonga. It sounds better if you emphasize the syllables Ran-CHO CUCA-monga, almost like you were yelling into a bullhorn. Thanks to Hollywood and classic movies like Next Friday and Bring It On most people have heard of this sprawling suburbia city. According to our reliable friends at Wikipedia, Money magazine ranked Rancho Cucamonga as the 42nd best place to live in the U.S. Hmm, not bad for a place with a 6-syllable name.

I honestly have nothing against Rancho Cucamonga. It's where I grew up. Our front yard was for bike riding, roller-skating, slip-n-sliding and pulling the neighborhood kids around in our red wagon (I must have somehow convinced my younger siblings and friends that this was fun). I grew up with my brother's little league games, Santa Ana winds, and getting McDonald's (gasp. unbelievable, I know) with Dad. I grew up with family brunch on Sunday, coffee dates with mom on Tuesdays and watching TGIF every Friday night.


It's where I started....

And it's where I come back to.

Obviously, the majority of people go " home" for the holidays, and to be honest there isn't anyone else I would want to celebrate Christmas with. I love my family. They remind me of who I am and where I come from. I left Santa Barbara on Sunday, driving down the familiar stretch of the 101-the part that bends and curves and feels like you're literally overlooking the Pacific on your right and hugging the hills on your left, and I realized that for 26 years I have celebrated Christmas in the same place, at the same home, going to the same Christmas Eve Service, at the same church...and even sleeping in the same bedroom!

There is nothing wrong with sameness or doing things they way they’ve always been- nothing wrong at all- so long as there is room for some difference, some room for things to grow and change. Sometimes when I come home to be with my family I think I regress about 8 years. I feel like an eighteen-year-old again; an insecure, whining, demanding teenager who isn't sure how to take on the world or even if I want to. I feel stuck in this in-betweenness of being a responsible, independent, 26-year-old adult in Santa Barbara and yet coming home and feeling like a kid who never totally grew up.

Maybe this is how life is supposed to feel. Like the subtle tension on a rubber band when there is a pull from two ends, I often feel pulled in two directions. The tension of wanting to be "grown-up"- on my own, celebrating with my own family and having my own traditions and yet simultaneously there is a gentle pull from the other side. A pull that reminds me that I need my family; I need encouragement to remember where I came from and support to become who I am meant to be.

You said what?

This made me laugh. If I was the kind of person who sent out Christmas letters I might just put this front and center.

Merry Christmas!

Joy

Mornings are not my favorite time of day. My roommates and family can attest to this. For me mornings are usually accompanied by a consistent snooze button, some whining, and (I am embarrassed to admit it) some occasional moaning. Somehow I came to believe the fallacy that once you're an "adult" you will naturally and happily just wake up, bright and early every morning. Oh, was I wrong. I feel like by most measures of adulthood I count as a "real" adult, but I have yet to figure out how to wake up early in the morning and enjoy it. I mean who really wants to get out of bed when it’s dark and cold?

Because I tend to sleep in as late as possible, this means that my mornings tend to be a bit rushed. I feel this looming pressure (i.e. the 1st period bell and 20 sleepy-eyed faces) to hurry. So I scramble around the house, leaving cupboards open, throwing clothes on my bed and using one hand to put on make-up and another to blow dry my hair (yes, I am an incredibly good multi-tasker : )

Finally, with my 2 bags slung over my shoulder, my keys in one hand and my to-go cup in the other, I make it to my car. phew. In a weird way sitting in my car brings a sense of comfort. I have almost no interruptions. I don't talk on the phone. I don't even listen to music. For those 12 minutes on the way to work I sit and think and pray and....my favorite part, drink my tea.

This morning I was in a hurry (no surprise) so I grabbed a tea bag from our smorgasbord of tea assortments in the cupboard and dropped it in my to-go mug. In a quiet moment once inside my car I noticed the little red tea tag dangling from my mug. It read the word "JOY."

Hmm. I wish it were always this easy to have joy in the morning.

Tazo Tea makes a Joy tea that only comes out during the Holidays. I love it. I think it seriously increases my joy and happiness in the morning. Who knew?

The Art of Incompletion

Recently a friend asked me if I had read any good books. I wanted to answer, but I was stuck. I quickly tried to imagine the stack of books by my night stand:

-a friend just loaned me Steinbecks' East of Eden (but I've only made it to page 3),
-my grandmother gave me a memoir about a teacher (and my goal is to finish it over Christmas),
-Mi Voz Mi Vida (I skim a chapter every now and then with hopes of improving my Spanish),
-I just bought two new books by Donald Miller (but I haven't even opened the cover)
-They Like Jesus, But Not The Church (I borrowed it from a friend months ago and I am still not done with it!)
-I read Real Simple magazine regularly (but that doesn't exactly counts as a book)

Then it hit me, I have not finished a book in a long time. I mean I have not read a whole book, from beginning to end, without skimming or jumping around to "interesting chapters," in a really, really long time. I am notorious for starting books and never finishing them. Sometimes I literally read half of the book and then put it down because I want to start a new book. I admit this is odd, especially because I am someone who likes to finish things.

I like to get things done. Cross 'em off. Finish. Complete it. Done.

I like when my laundry basket is empty because all of my clothes are clean. I like when I can thrown away a post-it note because the task is done. I like the feeling of finishing grading a stack of English papers. And I like when I can walk away from a day with a sense of completion.

If I am honest I sometimes wish I could finish navigating the world of being in my mid-twenties. I want to check off trying to figure out what to do next or how to make the right decision. Sometimes I wish I could be done with dating and wondering what will happen next. I know deep down that life is about enjoying the process and being grateful for where God has me, but I am finding its hard for me to live with things undone, uncertain, and incomplete.

One of my favorite college professors used to give us permission in her class not to finish the assigned reading (imagine that?) She would literally tell us if something grabs your attention--pause, listen to it, re-read it. This seems counterintuitive, I know! But my professor wanted us to go slowly, rather than plow through something for the sake of finishing it. She had the wisdom and foresight to introduce me to the art of incompletion.

I think I can readily embrace the "art of incompletion" when it comes to my book-reading habits, the harder task is learning what this looks like in the rest of life.

Why do boys spit?

It's a fundamental question, really. Why do boys spit? And I don't mean the kind of spitting that happens when you brush your teeth or when you bite into a mushy, rotten apple and quickly spit it out. No, I mean what possess little boys to stand on a bridge and spit into a murky, stagnant pool of water?

On Saturday morning the kids at The Village Apartments had a pumpkin carving day. Now confession, I don't really like carving pumpkins (ask my college roommates) but I do love pumpkins for 2 reasons: 1) in Santa Barbara pumpkins outside the grocery store are the closest we get to experiencing fall and 2) I like eating all things pumpkin- pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins and my roommate just made pumpkin cookies! I spent the better part of my afternoon scooping out seeds and making sure that eager little hands didn't get chopped off by bright orange carving knives. Here's Hector with his finished product.



I had promised 2 of the other kids that I would take them out for ice cream because they haven't been able to come to our weekly kids club after school. I should have known better than to mention ice cream on a hot Saturday afternoon. What I had planned to be a quick drive with 2 kids for an ice cream cone, turned into a family affair with 6 little ones! (the 2 brothers, 2 cousins, 1 step brother and one, who I'm still unclear exactly how he's related)

So, off we went...Me, Luis, Raymond, Ruben, Franky, Hector and Luis "Angel."

We opted to walk because my 2-door Honda is not exactly big enough for two carseats and four additional seatbelts. I felt a little bit like a mama duck, waddling after these 6 boys, trying to keep them safely on the side walk and holding someone's hand when they crossed the street. On our way down to Los Bambinos Market, we walked across an old pedestrian bridge that crossed over this murky, stagnant creek (and creek may be a generous term, it was really more of a cement germ-festering watering hole). Without any encouragement from me they simultaneously hoisted themselves up on this white wall, some of their heads barely able to see over and low and behold, they began spitting! All six of them!

Here's where my question comes in...Why do boys spit?


I seriously watched them for a good 5 minutes just spit, with all their little-body-spiting-power, into this dirty water. They competed for whose spit went the furthest and whose spit hit the objects floating down below. They oohh-ed and ahhh-ed over spitting. And they kept spitting. I don't get it. Who teaches boys these things?

We continued down the street in pursuit of ice cream.

Destination: the corner store. Most direct route: Walk straight 4 blocks.

I was quickly reminded that six boys under the age of 10 have no concept for "walk straight." They jumped off curbs, picked up rocks (and threw a few-oops), climbed up tree trunks and counted cracks in the sidewalk. These boys didn't really "walk" at all. They would occasionally sprint ahead, running as fast they could, until I yelled in my best teacher-motherly voice, "Hey. Hey! Wait at the stop sign." This running, stopping, jumping, throwing, climbing extravaganza continued for well over 20 minutes until we reached Los Bambinos. Ice cream at last.

However, somewhere in the process of "walking" (read: running, throwing, playing, laughing, climbing) the kids lost their excitement to get ice cream. I mean don't get me wrong, I still bought them ice cream and they happily ate it. But as we sat on the sidewalk licking ice cream cones I wondered what my life might be like if I lived a little more like Luis, Raymond, Ruben, Franky, Hector and Angel.

I tend to "walk straight" through most of life. I have a goal or destination in mind and I just go, and normally I go quickly. I wish I was the type of person who allowed more time in life to wander or aimlessly meander down the street, but I just don't. Granted I don't think I'm the climbing trees-rock throwing-type of girl, but I like the idea of learning to enjoy the process as much as the final destination. And who knows, maybe I'll start spitting when I walk across bridges?

Making the Grade

I confess my blogging grade is probably somewhere close to a D-. And not for lack of effort. In fact I sometimes start blog entries and press "save now" with all the best of intentions of finishing them later-- but alas, I never finish. It kind of reminds me of my students. They almost always have the best of intentions, but they fall short on the whole follow-through thing. However, they are pretty good at giving excuses.

For instance, each morning when I question, Why are you late?
"the bus left without me." (needless to say, they weren't there ON TIME.)
"hey, I didn't even hear the bell" (never mind that you can hear the bell from the street corner)
"well, my sister's...umm....friend's...umm...mom's car wasn't working" (they don't even have a sister!)
"ms. acker i can't walk that fast" (mind you, this was a football player. hmm?)

...and my all time favorite excuse for being tardy is...

"i was across the street at Vons cuz i wanted to buy you a get-well card, but they were all out." (creative to say the least, (this was the week after I had sinus surgery) but doubtful.

So, I will stop making excuses and start blogging more.

This photo captures a rare moment in my classroom where almost everyone is on task, almost. I know I am supposed to be teaching English and I do...well, I do my best, to teach these future minds of America (thank you Christine) to write and read, and think clearly and analyze intelligently, and spell correctly and when to use their, there, or they're. But the truth is sometimes I feel more like a mentoring-counselor-job coaching-disciplinarian-tutoring-mom, than a teacher.

On days like today I empathize with the student whose dad's lost his job, and then review with 2 girls how to use the point-slope form of a line on their geometry test. I explain to another that where it says "skills and abilities" on a job application is NOT the place to list what ability level you got to in the World of War Craft video game. I remind students to "push in your chair" and "don't forget your sweatshirt." I write hall passes and give lunch detentions. I listen to stories about his first girlfriend, her first time getting pulled over, and when he failed his driver's test-again! My students complain and whine and sometimes, literally moan about the work they have to do, but they also share their stories with me, they write honestly, without pretense. They laugh (with or at me-depending who you ask) and they raise their hands with thoughtful, genuine questions.

My days are never boring and almost always fulfilling. I really have no excuse NOT to blog and share a bit more of my day-to-day; my adventures in the everyday.

all good things must come to an end

I am a little embarrassed that my blogging skills lost momentum after just 3 posts. Well, lets be honest they didn't really lose momentum, so much as stop all together. whoops. Here I am on my last night of summer, trying to quickly recap the past few weeks.

• I returned from Guatemala to the land of smooth streets, wide grocery store isles and oversized vehicles (3 things I did not see while I was there). It always takes me awhile to adjust back to life here-some of the common conveniences and normal daily tasks suddenly don't feel quite as common or as normal. It's like trying to walk when your foot is asleep; your leg knows what it's supposed to do, but your whole foot feels limp and clumsy. I limped through a few days and weeks questioning why I needed to check my email every 30 min, and why do I drive my car to the store that is less than a mile away? Don't get me wrong I am extremely blessed and grateful for my life here, but living overseas with nothing but a backpack, some good friends and endless free time changes your perspective a bit.

• My final 2 weeks in Guatemala were filled with many hours traveling on chicken buses, seeing good friends and visiting the family who I lived with last year. Here's a few pictures:

Lago Atilan- perhaps my favorite place in Guatemala!

My friend Grace and I waiting for out boat-taxi...seriously!

I know they say you shouldn't eat the fruit from the street vendors...BUT this was worth it!

• At the end of July I helped plan and host our first Westside Kids Club Day Camp. Some of you know that I have been volunteering at a low-income apartment complex for the past year or so. There are numerous kids who live here, so this was our first attempt at doing a camp. The apartment complex has a neat focus on proving residents with resources and services so they can improve their situation in life. We had a great week with songs, water games, parachutes, and whip cream- hey, why not?

• And then last week I got to spend the weekend with my 3 closest friends from college. Once or twice a year we try to gather from our various cities and states and have a total girls weekend together...mission accomplished. (thank you, GWT)

• Tomorrow teachers return to school. Students come on Monday. Summer is officially over. I guess all good things do come to an end....here's to summer!

Snapshots Part II

I love these Girls.

Gerber, Me, Annie, Alyssa and Jordan- Our team at Proximos Pasos!

Gotta Love Guatemalan Buses

Una Buena Vista de Santa Maria de Jesus

Gringos v. Guatemaltecos...Clearly THEY won.

The girls hard at work in one of the classrooms

Precious.

I know you are not supposed to have favorites...BUT this girl is adorable.

Guatemala 08- The whole group

Snapshots

Sorry, for the lack of more timely updates, but this is the first time I have had adequate internet access. Although if I am honest, it has been quite nice to NOT have the convenience or better said, the distraction, of instant technology at my fingertips 24-hours a day. Life in Guatemala moves at a different pace- and I LOVE it! Time seems elastic here...we linger over meals, relationships, not tasks, are the priority, and "the schedule" or "the plan" for the day can change momentarily.

After spending 10 days working along side Guatemalans it is difficult to sum up my experiences into a concise blog entry. My best attempt is to provide a few snapshots of life here so you can see why I love this country and have nothing but respect, awe and admiration for the people here.

Snapshot #1 Holistic Education

Proximos Pasos, the school where 4 students and I worked every morning, is the epitome of holistic education. The 5 teachers there cared for the girls’ academic development, their emotional and social growth, their health and daily hygiene and their spiritual developmental. One day we handed out new toothbrushes and another day we washed, scrubbed, combed and picked out lice from the girl’s heads. Another day we taught PE class on this make-shift field overlooking the valley. Most days we helped teachers in the classroom or played with the girls at their break time. It is hard not fall in love with these 60 girls...not only are they kind and generous with each other, but they shower love and hugs on you daily! However, all of them live in conditions and homes where there is little money for food and education is not valued because they are needed to be at home to take care of other siblings. I was shocked and humbled when one of the teachers told me that me that many families cannot afford the monthly tuition of 25 quetzals (which is roughly $3.50—the price of a latte in the states!). It made me re-think how often I mindlessly buy a latte when I could be buying an education for beautiful little girl in Guatemala.

Snapshot #2 Complaining or The Lack of It

I think one of the most difficult parts of being a teacher in the US is the amount of complaining that teachers and students do (myself included). I cannot think of a day at work where I don't hear another teacher complaining about a certain class, or a student whining about having too much homework, or myself venting to a friend about how much work I have to do. What surprised me most about being at Proximos Pasos is that I never, seriously, NEVER once heard one of the teachers or one of the girls complain! Now granted, I know they are not perfect, and I know don't understand everything in Spanish, but I think I am pretty good at detecting complaining. It was truly remarkable to be at a school for an entire week and not hear one teacher or one of the students complain. Kinda of makes me want to rethink my own attitude about teaching. Why do I complain sometimes? Is from some sense of entitlement- like I expect things to be a certain way? Or is complaining some culturally appropriate way we have learned to express our frustration? Hmm...Worth thinking about? Why do Americans tend to complain so much?

Snapshot #3 TOGETHERNESS

Guatemalans tend to have the mentality of ours (nuestros), not mine (mios). Again, in the context of the school where I worked and because I am a teacher I was surprised how no one referred to things as mine, but more so as ours. When I think about my job...I describe things with the pronoun "my"— my desk, my classroom, my students, my paper, my computer, mine, mine, mine. It was so refreshing to see teachers desribe to our students, our markers, our supplies, our classrooms, our computer, etc, etc. There was this neat sense of community and togethernesses that seems hard to recreate sometimes (I don't think togtherness is really a word, but you get my point :) I want my life to have more of a sense of ours, not just mine. When Jesus teaches about loving your neighbor as yourself I think it has something to do with this idea or togetherness. I have often struggled with the idea of how do you really love your neighbor as yourself? I mean practically how do you do that? I think it may start with seeing things, people, spaces and ideas as ours, not mine.


Snapshot #4 High School Students Get it

One of the best parts of this trip was working with and leading the high school students from my church. For many of them this was their first experience in another country and certainly their first experince working with people in a different lnaguge and culture. As expected with that came their honest questions, raw observations, and of course, hilarious moments of pure laughter. I love high school students because they are willing to take risks and don't have too many preconceived notions.

These were some of the words that they came up with when asked to summarize their experience in a single word:
overwhelming. joyful. mind-blowing. inspiring.
shocking. thankful. fun. encouraging. meaningful
eye-opening. humbling. interesting.

And if I had to add my own words to summarize my experience so far I would say:
refreshing. joyful. challenging. fulfilling.

Guatemala is always such a rich experience for me. I am not even sure if I can quite capture it in words, but I know that I feel so fulfilled here. When I am in Guatemala I live in the moment. I get to enjoy and savor each day, each conversation, and each experience. I love using my Spanish and learning from the people here. I know God works in different ways in people’s lives, but it is such a privilege to be in a place where I sense His presence each and everyday in my life and the lives around me.

***I haven't been able to upload pictures yet....but as soon as I can I'll put some one here***

P.S. The rest of my group flew home yesterday. I spent the day in Antigua and I am taking a bus to Xela in a few hours and will spend the rest of my time there. Adios!

Leaving Admist the Fires

It seems like a bit of contradiction to have fireworks going off at one edge of the city in celebration of the 4th, while a FIRE rages uncontrollably at the other end of the city...go figure?

Some of you may have heard on the news or read in the paper about the gap fire. It started on Tuesday and has since burned more than 8,357 acres and its only 24% contained! And what makes it so threatening is that it's burning in the foothills of Santa Barbara and Goleta, close to homes and neighborhoods. Already over 1,600 homes have been evacuated. Thankfully, the area where I live is not threatened, but it has left an eerie smoke and haze covering the sky. Here are a few pictures from the past 3 days in Santa Barbara.

All that to say I am still leaving in a few hours for Guatemala. A lot of the students who are going on the trip live in north Goleta and Santa Barbara. They have already had to evacuate their homes and pack up their belongings from home AND their bag for Guatemala. You can imagine how hard it is to leave the country not knowing whether your home will be safe.


If you are a person of prayer, please pray that the fire would be contained and that homes would not be damaged. Pray for safety as we travel and energy as we get settled in Guatemala tomorrow morning (we have a red-eye flight, leaving LAX at 1:30am)

Thanks for your continued support and prayers!

Top 10 Reasons to be a Teacher

1. summer vacation (let's be honest...who isn't excited about 9 weeks off!)
2. i am never bored
3. my students ask me ridiculous questions like "Is your hair fake?" or "how much do you have to pay to rent the classroom?"
4. i get to re-learn all the grammar skills that I missed when I was in school (affect vs. effect and lay vs lie)
5. the bell schedule can bring an odd kind of consistency and routine, who doesn't like 4-min bathroom breaks and 28-min lunches
6. the rare and meaningful moments when a student comes back to say "thank you"
7. ever changing educational policy to be updated on (read: more paperwork and additional testing)
8. occasional FREE food and random stuff in the staff lounge
9. i am always learning something new
10. did I mention SUMMER VACATION???

Although there are numerous reasons why I love my job, having a built in vacation time is such a welcomed break. For one, it allows me to pursue other areas of my life that I don't have as much time for during the school year-such as GUATEMALA!


I leave in 9 days!

The first 2 weeks I will be living and working at Proximos Pasos, an all girls school near Antigua. Our team of 16 high school students and 4 adults will be learning from the local leaders about the culture and needs of each community, while building, training and serving the people. This trip is as much about sharing and serving the people of Guatemala as it is about learning from them. Even though 75% of Guatemalans live below the poverty level and there continues to be incredible corruption and injustice in a county still recovering from the 30-year war, there is also a rich spirit of generosity that is unknown to most wealthy, over-resourced, North Americans. I was amazed and humbled at the hospitality and joy that I encountered last year, often in stark contrast to my own greed and self-centeredness.

After our groups' time in Antigua I will be heading up to Queztaltenango, more commonly, referred to as Xela (shay-la), where I lived last year. I am excited to return to a city, with friends and people that I love. I hope to do some volunteering here, travel a bit and hang out with friends, but we'll see. I have learned (or maybe better said, I am still learning) to travel with loose plans and high hopes...knowing that what comes, will come.

asi es la vida en guatemala.