Awakening from hibernation . . .

Timidly she emerges from her long silence . . .

No, I have no excuse except that I was too busy trying to figure out what God was trying to do in my life to expound on it to the world.

That is not to say that by writing now I HAVE figured it all out! More like I am so overwhelmed by all that He has given me and done for me I feel it would be a shame to not share it. Yes, my heart is full. And it sure beats sitting around pitying myself.

See, yesterday morning (a lifetime ago) I said good-bye to this amazing group of people whom God used to change my life. And I still get teary-eyed when I try to tell my family about them.

Let me back up.The story starts last summer when I made the decision not to continue teaching at CICS. As I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life I remembered that SMBI had long been on my to-do-sometime list. It seemed like a good time to do it. A time of rejuvenation and re-focusing. Besides, may as well take advantage of my "missionary" discount while it's still valid, right? So I signed up for 4th term & tour. Only to get an e-mail a couple weeks later saying I was in for 2nd term. Due to a previous registration I had been entered for 2nd term instead of 4th, which meant that I was on the bottom of the stack for 4th term. No. 20 something on the waiting list if I remember right. I struggled. Was it not a good thing? I prayed. "God, I NEED this time." Then eventually I gave it up. I decided if God really wants me to go He will move the mountains, or stacks of paperwork in this case.

Christmas time came and went and no word from SMBI. Then January happened and in the midst of my waiting, someone else decided they were done waiting and I was asked the question that all girls hope to hear. Well, most normal girls anyhow. I had pretty much written a relationship off for the time being. It just wasn't something I wanted to focus on. (In fact I told my aunt at Christmas time that if any guy asks me out in the next six months I would probably slap him up 'long side the head.) But I guess God was getting a real chuckle out of my rash words and decided now would be a good time to teach me a lesson about watching what I say. Keith is a great guy from my home youth group. And in the midst of seeking God's will in the situation God answered my other request. I must confess I cried when I read the e-mail saying I was accepted for 4th term at SMBI. It was like God was saying, "Mel, Of course I want you to go. I care about what you want too." So I started preparing for term. And freaking out! What was I doing? I didn't want to go hang out with that many weirdos!! I didn't have anything to give relationshipwise at the time being. I just wanted to go and be a hermit amidst the mass and focus on what God was trying to teach me for my life. And that's the attitude I went to term with. (And btw, I did say 'yes,' to Keith, since he was OK with me being gone for 9 weeks)

So I showed up at term, luggage in tow, heart firmly padlocked.

But not firmly enough. God had some pretty persuasive people there. Two out-of-this-world dean of women, outstanding teachers, and an amazing choir director, and they all kept harping about relationships! I think it was about the second week of term I decided to give up. And I said, "Ok, God, what do you have me here to learn?" And He, faithful as always, showed me. Whether it was through late-night conversations in girls dorm, supper table discussions, one-on-one walks, Christ in the Old Testament "discussions" (I could write a whole post about that class but you had to be there to experience it so I won't waste my breath) campfire times or simply solo time in a field under the stars, He taught me. A lot.

And the six weeks flew by altogether too fast. And before you could say, "epic!" I was on a plane headed to LA, California with about 50 other eager students, ready to sing our voices out and bless people or else die trying. But if I thought term taught me a lot about relationships then tour was the bootcamp. 50+ people in a bus, logging over 130 hours in said bus, while on minimal sleep. Good times are bound to happen!! And happen they did.

Someone asked me, after returning to SMBI what my favorite part of tour was. I looked at her rather blankly (which may have had something to do with running low on sleep) and was like, I have to pick a favorite part?!?

Well, if I did have to pick a favorite part it would be the people. The broken vessels who shared that bus, the diamonds that were being ground alongside me, (and probably the diamonds that I was grinding as well!)  I have never been with a group of people of that size who were so OK with not being OK.  We hurt together, we shared together, we cried together . . .and we got upset at each other . . . and annoyed . . .yeah, just plain sick of each other every now and then.  But we also laughed together. A lot! And we played together . . . Rook (a lot!) . . . Spot-it . . .Occupation . . . Fishbowl . . Hearts . . . Dice . . . And of course we sang. A lot! Somebody was asked by their host, "So, after y'all sing so much I bet you're just tired of using your voices and the bus it just really quiet." We all had a good laugh when we heard that. Not so!

I could go on for hours with memories and lessons learned. But I'll spare you, if you made it this far anyway.  It's like I told someone during those horrible good-byes Saturday morning. I feel as if God has given me this time, this tour, these people as a gift. And as much as I don't want to leave it and go back to the real world it would be like throwing that gift back in God's face. It would be a sin not to take what I learned and live it out in real time. Much as I don't want to . . . as much as I'm tempted to crawl back into myself and focus only on my life. I can't. Because of His Gift, His Amazing Love, I now need to give Him my life, my relationships, my all. And be intentional.

And to any of you 4th termers reading this . . . when I think about all of us scattered all over the continent, world actually. I just get so excited! I see all these little "hot spots" where each of us can take what we learned/experienced and start the fire. Because He has given His angels charge over us and we can fearlessly live out His calling, with intention, wherever He has placed us.

Nevermind, I want a reunion. Like now!!!! I miss you guys.

Just because we're awesome!!

Once again a student . . .

Have you ever been explaining something to someone, trying to teach them how to do something when suddenly they catch on and say, "Oh, you mean like this!" And turns out they knew how to do it all along, and they're actually better at it than you are. And all you can do is stand there and feel about two inches tall. 

That happened to me this week. (Or, I guess it's last week by now.) 

Beatriz' grandpa's funeral was on Thursday. Thankfully it was in the afternoon so we were able to attend. So the majority of us staff and a few of the students piled into the van and headed out to Tacachico. We didn't attend the Catholic Mass, although I would have been very interested in seeing the ceremonies. I was told the length of the service, in which the soul is supposedly blessed and ushered into heaven, depends on how much the family can afford to pay the priest. Can you imagine feeling as if your father/grandfather may not end up in heaven simply because you couldn't afford to pay the priest for a sufficient prayer! Although, I think the Cruz family should have nothing to worry about, based on that. We waited for a small eternity in the parking lot, or so it seemed. But I'm getting sidetracked. 

We met up with another couple, Abel & Myrna, who live close to Beatriz and were also attending the funeral. As we were waiting in a small parking lot close to the church, Myrna came over and with tears in her eyes began to tell us what had happened the night before, at the "vela." (An all-night vigil, something like a viewing) Beatriz had come to her asking if she could talk to her mom, because her parents were refusing to let her wear her veil & dress. Myrna was, of course, ready to defend and went to talk to her mom. However, her mom refused to be persuaded. There was family from the states and they would not have their daughter shaming them by dressing like a "grandma." This was not just said to Myrna. Beatriz was heartbroken, and when we joined the funeral procession to the gravesite, she began to cry in earnest, ashamed that we had to see her in a skirt and blouse. Mary was quick to take her aside and reassure her that God saw her heart and that He knew that she wanted to do what was right and that she hadn't lost her Chrisitanity just because she didn't have her head covered. And then Beatriz explained the things that even Myrna hadn't known. That her father had literally ripped her veil off her head, and pulled her by the hair, telling her to change, and when she said that she was not ashamed, he hit her with his belt. And then took her dress and threw it in the trash. And I wanted to close my eyes and not see what she was saying and at the same time wanted to take her and run far far away. Because that was her father sober. 

And we were able to, for a little bit. We talked with her mom, asking permission for Beatriz to come back with us, seeing as how Friday was the spelling competition that she had studied three months for.  Her mother, rather reluctantly, gave permission. And so Beatriz wanted to say good-bye to some of her aunts and uncles who would be leaving for the states the next day. I walked with her, waiting while saw said her good-byes. And then I saw her father, viciously gesturing to her, and I knew it was not good. He walked out of the crush of people surrounding the gravesite, his ginormous hand nearly bruising Beatriz's arm in his vicious grip. It was clear he was not on board with the idea of her leaving. We were able to explain that it was because of the competition that she had worked hard for and that she would be home the next afternoon, just like every Friday. And he let go of Beatriz' arm and I, holding her other hand, wanted to run out of that cemetery as fast as I possibly could. 

And Beatriz sat in the back seat of the van and said, "Oh, it's good to be with the deaf again, it's much calmer." And then we had our competition the next day. And then Beatriz went home, most likely to a dad who is raging drunk. And a family who at best, tolerates her beliefs, when not mocking them. And she says, "It doesn't matter what they say, I am going to be faithful." And she comes to school every Monday morning with a ginormous smile on her face. 

And yes, now I feel about two inches tall. It's like I've been playing "Christian" my whole life. What do I know about respecting a father who beats me for wearing a modest dress? A father who pitches my Bible? What do I know about encouraging a girl who lives that life? 

Once again, I am the student and not the teacher. 

Please join me in extra prayer for Beatriz this week. A week of vacation for me means a week at home for her. With a father who is most likely trying to drink away his grief. Pray for protection and strength and a heart that continues to be soft.