Children

Today was the second-to-last chapel for my students, and since they are going to middle school next year, it was one of their last chapels as elementary students. We watched a video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Df7gJ0NMu10) that shows the glorification of money and power that the world has to offer, and the chorus of the song talks about the emptiness those things bring. The video is a song to a Reggaeton beat, and it shows a young boy who idolizes a musical artist duo, and demonstrates how he tries to imitate what their image promotes. (Keep in mind, the video is in Spanish and is designed to capture the attention of young adults....they can relate to it.)

So at the end of chapel, one of the teachers prayed for the kids. He prayed for their innocence, that they wouldn't fall victim to peer pressure, that they would be strong and confident enough in Jesus and in themselves that they wouldn't seek love in the approval of others. My eyes actually filled with tears as I looked at their round, sweet faces. I see such goodness in them, even in the trouble-makers, and as I watched their bowed heads and tightly closed eyes, I began to feel like I'm about to send my sheep to the wolves. They have no idea what is waiting for them in middle school, and I know some of them will fall victim to the slaughter. The worse part is that I can see foreshadowing of it already: one of my girls tells me she watches this show called "Ninas Malas" ("Bad Girls"), and she sees herself trying to emulate the characters on the show. It is for a lack of love, this deep need for love and acceptance and approval, that these kids will start to make big life choices. I can tell them until I'm blue in the face, "It doesn't matter what other people think," but they need to realize that, really own that knowledge, on their own. I just hope that already know how much they are loved.

Pink and Black

Last Friday, I brought my colored string to street soccer to make bracelets. By now I've made dozens and dozens of box bracelets, and a couple of the guys and girls still wear the very first ones I made for them months ago. Usually the ones asking for bracelets with specific colors will sit with me and watch while I weave the five strings between my fingers, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes making light conversation.

This last Friday, Vanessa (age 13) and Kimberly (age 14) sat with me. Vanessa, who is in "fifth/sixth grade," was excited to share some of the English phrases she knows. As I was digging through my bag to show her the color options, she asked me my favorite color.

"Amarillo," I said.

"Yellow," she translated with a smile.

"What is your favorite color?" I asked her slowly.

"Pink and black."

Pink and black. How appropriate is that? I'm telling you, I couldn't invent this stuff if I tried.

This young girl who wants to do arts and crafts with me, who wants to help me organize my colored strings and untangle knots, this girl who bites her fingernails, who wants to show me what she's learned in school and still talks about favorites...

...This girl who lives in an unsafe neighborhood, who lives in a community of rough, aggressive people addicted to pain-numbing drugs and who has seen and experienced things I cannot begin to imagine ...

...her favorite colors are pink and black.

Plant Ballads

The assignment was to a ballad about the life of a plant, describing threats to the plant's life and how it has adapted to defend itself. I hope you enjoy the results as much as I did... :)

[A rap]
"Poor poor sour flower
she needs a hood
and some food.

Dude winters coming.
You should hide for some warming in the night
but the sour flour
didn't know the hour
of the winter's power.

So the sour flower got some food
and stood in front of a tree she saw a hood
in top of the tree and the tree give it to her." ~D.

"Flowers attract bees with their colorful skin,
some defend themself with poisonous liquid,
on them stems,
some have spine to bit you up,
flowers are alive but they have different ways to be protect." ~K.

"It's hard to live in the desert,
I try with a lot of effort,
I'm not going to be insincere,
It's too hot in here,

But finally we got to adapt,
And we all claped,
That if we had light colors we would feel less heat,
And I don't want a problem like that to repeat." ~E.

"This plant love hugs,
but she hate slugs
she eat's bugs
she live's in the mud
but she was taken in
a big truck so
now they have the
poor little plant and
she was turned
into a drug." ~C.

[This confused student wrote a poem for his mom:]
"I love you with a lot of hugs,
but I love my slugs just like you
you are like birds singing on a tree
like gold birds that I can see

I have trucks of different kinds
and I bought drugs when I'm sad.
I can't stop of thought of you
when I go soon to the school" ~D.

"I am a little plant,
who likes to grow up
with water and sun,
more beautiful I become.

I need to survive
from animals and bugs,
from the sky to underground,
I wish I could talk.

But Jesus has giving me strength,
believe in him if you need help,
nature is my protection,
with sunlight and rain." ~G.

...I LOVE my kids.

A New Season...

Two years ago, I was called to teach in Honduras. My time here has been both eye-opening and heartbreaking. I’ve been asked many times if I love living in Honduras. The truth is that though I am living amidst great pain and poverty, I am also continually driven to my knees witnessing redemption at work here. I am grateful for the brokenness I face because it keeps my heart soft.

Living here, I have become very involved with a ministry called the Micah Project. The Micah Project has two group homes for boys and an outreach to the street children of Tegucigalpa. The boys in the group homes, all of whom suffered painful childhoods on the streets or in very poor homes, are now receiving discipleship training, formal education, and opportunities to serve others who are in need.

The boys have taught me a lot, both about the world and about myself. I sincerely count them as a part of my family, as both brothers and sons. Knowing them has awakened in me a deeper part of myself, a fiercely protective side that flares heatedly to think on the violence they have experienced in their young lives. The extreme poverty and brokenness of families here leads to abandonment, physical and sexual abuse, expulsion from the home, alcohol and drug addictions, and gang involvement. By the merciful hand of God, the Micah Project offers hope to young boys living in the streets. But what about the girls?

Statistically speaking, in Honduras one in three girls will be a victim of sexual abuse before she reaches the age of twelve. Child sexual abuse is more than a nightmare, it is the sickening day-to-day reality in many families here. Some families prostitute out their daughters and nieces to men in the city to create an income, often to feed the addictive habits of the adults. Ultimately, poverty and corruption leave the police and government ineffective. Many older girls run away to the streets to escape the sexual abuse at home, but the street is not much of a refuge.

One evening in late November, a friend and I were discussing what a “Micah House for girls” would look like. Together we dreamed excitedly and without reservation, and within the week I mentioned the idea to the director of the Micah Project. He smiled and handed me the name and email address of a woman, Carol, who not only shared our dream but also had already started to create it: a group home for abused young women.

I met with Carol to discover she and her husband, Terry, had already sweated through the legal red tape of court systems, orphanages, and finances of purchasing a house. What she was in need of, she told me, were counselors-- women willing to commit their time to invest in relationship with the girls, to be ready to listen when they want to share, to offer help with homework, and to teach self-discipline and appropriate social skills. I am honored to say that after much prayer I am convinced that this is where the Lord wants me. I have committed to spending the next two years growing with these girls, learning from them and affirming them of their immeasurable worth.

It has been a huge blessing to serve at my school these last two years; it has been an ideal transitional period between college and life afterwards. The school has taken care of me financially and provided me with a group of new teachers my age to live in community with. But now the Lord is challenging me to fully trust Him for everything. If I was not entirely confident that this is what the Lord is asking of me, I would not be taking this step of faith. But I know He has created me with specific gifts and talents, and I was made to love these girls.

There are two great areas of need: prayer, and financial support. Prayer: The girls and young women of Honduras are in dire need of prayer. Casa de Ester is offering hope and light to these girls in the darkest of situations. Please pray that the Lord would be giving them strength and preparing the hearts of those who will become a part of Casa de Ester. That includes accepting discipline, rules, and responsibilities for the first time and also changing certain unhealthy behaviors. Pray also for those of us preparing to work with the girls, that the Lord would give us unconditional, long-suffering love for them. Pray for strength in the staff and unity within the family of girls. Financial support: I am in need of both monthly donations (for rent, gas, food) and one-time gift contributions (to renew my Honduran residency, to secure a means of transportation, etc.) to support my living here for the next two years. If you would like to help out in either of these ways, your tax- deductible checks can be made out and sent to

World Outreach Ministries
P.O. Box B
Marietta, GA 30061
(designate for Sage Johnson, Fund Code #104)

or the fastest way is to make an Online Donation via  www.WorldOutreach.org.  Go to "Donate" and select my name from the list.  The system can process USA & International cards.  You can also set up automatic Monthly gifts with your credit card if you choose the "Monthly" option.

If you are interested in learning more about Casa de Ester and the economical crisis in Honduras, please check out the website at http://www.arrow.org/church/internationaloperationshonduras/Casa-de-Ester.html. Thank you so much for letting me share this with you and for supporting these girls however you feel led.

Muchisimas gracias, y Dios les bendiga. (Thank you very much, and God bless you.)

Disappear

Friday night after street soccer and a brief stop by the Micah house, a few friends and I take a ride in the back of a friend's truck through El Centro (downtown Tegucigalpa). The truck is unusually slow-moving because of heavy traffic, and a man approaches us in the truck. He starts talking to us in accented but fluent English, asking us loudly what were are doing in his country. He doesn't wait for an answer. He tells us to leave. He tells us he hates us, that Hondurans hate us. He tells us that we don't want him in our country, and he doesn't want us in his. (Maybe he had been deported...? Or had heard about Arizona's new immigration law...) He curses us out vehemently in extremely strong language. All the while he is walking alongside the truck with us, his loud, angry voice is raised just behind me and is drawing stares from the crowded sidewalks. I start to worry he is going to spit on us.

He starts chanting "Disappear! Disappear!" and then "Desaparezcan!" My heart feels heavy in my chest, and I start wondering if this is more of a spiritual attack than just a verbal one. I begin to pray: "Lord Jesus, please shut his mouth--"

Immediately the man stops talking and walks away.


(True story. 2/10/2011)

Our European Adventure

Hi guys!!!

Sorry I went AWOL for the summer, I've been teaching English Camps in Italy. And now that I'm here, I'm not sure exactly how to summarize the experience. I'll try to keep it brief:

My dear friend of 10 years, Ari, and I went to England for a few days before our week of orientation. While we were there we went to the British Museum and saw the Rosetta Stone, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and Greek statures. It was a good experience, but I'm not that into art objects and artifacts. My favorite by FAR was the National Gallery. There we explored the paintings of Van Gogh, Monet, Turner, Degas, Rembrandt, Seurat, and many, many others. (Ari and I had an art history class together in college and she majored in it, so I couldn't possibly have had better company!)

Orientation in San Remo (about a half our from the French boarder) was a lot of fun, meeting and playing camp games and activities with English speakers from England, Scotland, Australia, and New Zealand. It's amazing how we all speak the same language but how much we still have to translate what we are saying to each other. Slang, vocabulary, accents, and articulation all became huge topics of discussion. We learned that as US Americans, many of us turn our "t"s into "d"s...think about it: do you say "pretty" and "beautiful" or "pridy" and "beaudiful"? To give you an idea about vocab, in British English a "biscuit" is a "cookie" in American English, British "dummy" = American "pacifier", and British "pants" = American "underwear" (important difference, apparently). We learned songs and games and activities in a group of 150 college-aged kids. I know what you're thinking, and yes, it was awesome. :o)

After orientation, we spent one week each in Marcianise (Naples), Montecastello (Tuscany), and Pisa. We were then put on "hold" in Baiardo, which is a stone village in the mountains of San Remo where counselors are welcome to stay while waiting for more work to open up. (With hundreds of counselors in dozens of camps throughout Italy, everyone gets put in reserve sometime or another.) While staying in Baiardo, a group of us took trips out to see Monaco and Milan. Both very beautiful and incomprehensibly wealthy.

Next we were placed in a two-week camp near the Swiss boarder, and I absolutely fell in love with my family there. All of my homestays were incredible, but I think because I spent twice as long with this family and my "parents" were so young (31), I got very close to them. They also reminded me a lot of my family in upstate New York. I met all of their sisters, brothers, in-laws, parents' parents, and they own a restaurant right by the lake...it really felt like a little Trumansburg. Only you could see the Swiss Alps. :o) It was especially hard to say goodbye to them.

After that camp, Ari and I traveled to Milan, Venice, Florence, Cinque Terra, Nice (France), and then flew home from England. 22 hours after landing in SFO, I was back again to fly back to Honduras. There is soo much more I'd love to tell you about, like all the great conversations we had about faith and Jesus with coworkers and roommates in hostels, about how in Venice we wore Carnevale masks and ran through the streets at night pretending to be superheros, about the Uffizi and trying to go boho in Florence, about the INCREDIBLE pesto and seascapes in Cinque Terra, about hilarious Aussie roommates, about sleeping on row of metal chairs in Heathrow with armrests pressing in from all angles...but neither you nor I have the time for all that. And I still have to upload pictures.

So much for keeping in brief. Haha.

Thanks for reading! Ciao for now. :o)

An Abundance of Hope

The two boys who left Micah to return to the streets are both sincerely seeking help to be freed from their addictions: one is spending the weekend sobering up at his dad's house before returning to the Micah house, and the other is considering a drug rehabilitation program.

Just last Friday I was sitting on the ground with Marvincito's dirty head in my lap as he slept. It was one of the most maternal moments I've ever had (and I've had many, with three summers as a counselor and two classes of students). There's a lot I don't know about these boys: I don't know much about the families they come from or what family remains. I don't know their thoughts or feelings about the states of their lives. I don't know their desires for themselves or hopes for the future. But I know our Jehovah Rapha heals and restores, and I know the depth of the hope I harbor for them. It's moments like these, moments in which I am so clearly reminded that God is compassionate and at work in the lives of His children, that I have to stop and say thank you.

"The Lord is righteous in all his ways and loving toward all he has made." Psalm 145:17

Creere ("I will believe")

I heard this song in church the other week, and I've been finding a lot of encouragement and comfort in its words. I realize I didn't tell you guys, but a few weeks ago two of the Micah boys left to return to the streets. It's been hard to watch the power their addictions have over them. There's a lot more that is on my heart, but in spite of everything, faith, hope, and love endure.

"Creere"

Cuandos sientas desmayar
Y que ya no hay fuerzas para cotinuar
has pensado abandonar
ese sueno, ese anhelo que en tu alma esta

La mente dice no nada puendes hacer
Pero tu corzon no para de
Y la montana se encruentra frente a ti
mas ya se que al cruz haras si lo puedes creer

Creere, creere, creere oh

cuando parazca como si no puedas pelear mas
y se ve como so el camino llego a su final
cuando nadie to crea, cuando te cierren las puertas
por favor no te detengas porque debes continuar

La esperanza te hara mirar mas alla
Y la fe te dara fueza de creer que venceras
ahora es tiempo de ananzar y del pasado olvidar
Y celebrar lo que vendra juntos cantar

Y las palabra qu vendran intentando apagar
Elfuega que hay en ti las debes olvidar
Y el viento sopllara pero no to detendras
si dios esta a tu lado tu tienes todo lo necessario
Para levantarte yu creer

Porque Dios es el que nos da las fuerzas
confia confia confia confia canto conmigo si
creere yo creere

"I will believe"

When you feel like you're about to faint
And when you don't have the strength to continue
You have thought about abandoning
that dream, that desire that's in your soul

The mind says that there is nothing that you can do
but your heart doesn't stop
And you find the mountain in front of you
but I know that you will cross if you believe

I will believe, I will believe, I will believe

When it seems that you can no longer fight
and it looks as if though the path is about to end
when no one believes you, when the doors are closed
please don't stop because you must continue

The hope will make you look beyond
and faith will give you the strength to make you believe that you will win
now is the time to move forward and forget about the past
and celebrate what will come, together singing

And the words that will come trying to extinguish
The fire that's inside, you must forget them
And the wind will blow but you will not stop
If God is at your side, you will have everything necessary
To lift you up and believe

Because God is the one who gives us strength
Trust, trust, trust, sing with me
yes I will believe, I will believe

Listen to it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PTuvs-5Fo0

Near mutiny

Background: Students in the elementary are supposed to line up in boy and girl lines after recess and lunch for teachers to come and neatly collect them for class. A couple of my girl students like to fight over my left arm (which is the front of the girl's "line"), but seeing as how most of the fifth grade doesn't actually walk in lines (knowing they won't have to in sixth grade), both of my arms are usually occupied by these two girls. Over the last few weeks, more girls from my class have started to join in this race to me and my popular arms, and today things got a little ridiculous.

After lunch I had a swarm of girls flock to me with big grins, hands reaching out towards me from all sides. There were at least two or three girls trying to get ahold of each arm. One of the girls who feels closer to me (she usually stays after school to do homework, help me clean, and play games with me) reached for a leg, and another started for the other. I evaded the second girl, laughing and hopping unsteadily, towards the classroom. There was talk of carrying me down to the room. I realize I was entirely unprofessional in my demeanor, but I know I have their respect. I could have stopped the fun with a look, but I think I'm feeling more sentimental as summer is approaching. I'm trying to prepare my heart to say goodbye (to my students, to the Micah boys), and it's going to be rough.

Guatemala Semana Santa

Hi guys!!!

As you may or may not know, for Semana Santa (Holy Week) some friends and I went to Guatemala. It was absolutely fantastic: rich in culture, vibrant colors, and, let's say...a diversity of experiences. :o)

We took a bus from Tegucigalpa to San Salvador, El Salvador, then took a second from there to Guatemala City. We stayed the night at a hostel (Quetzalroo, owned by a Guatemalan and an Aussie couple), and the next day took off (by chicken bus) for Panajachel. Panajachel has an ENORMOUS lake surrounded by volcanoes, and the community has a very islandy/hippie feel to it. It was, by far, my favorite part of the trip. We took a boat to see other little towns across the lake, too. After a few days we headed over to Antigua for the sawdust carpets and Easter processionals. All gorgeous, but also crowded. Somewhere in the midst of the week we also went salsa dancing, I got left on a chicken bus by myself for a terrifying 5-10 minutes, and I developed a deep love for the national bird of Guatemala, the quetzal. (Quetzals symbolize freedom because they can't survive domestication.)

I put my pictures together in an album on facebook, which you can access here (even if you don't have a facebook account):

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2038178&id=65800756&l=3cf7cd822b

In closing, here is a quetzal for your enjoyment:

Micah 6:8

I'm not exactly sure where to begin. I mentioned street kid soccer in my last post, but I'm going to need to go into further detail.

Earlier in the year, I went to an outreach referred to as "street kid soccer," which is exactly what it sounds like: playing soccer with kids who live in the streets of Tegus. I didn't play because 1) I'm non-competitive by nature, 2) I value my life, and 3) I like talking with the others on the bleachers. A couple of weeks ago my friend Michelle asked if I wanted to go again with her, and I'm forever grateful she did. I met and made friends with Hannah, who was working as an intern with the Micah house for a couple of months. As we were talking, and she mentioned she would be leaving to go back to the States in a couple weeks, so I made it a point to go back to street kid soccer the next week. Hannah warmly welcomed me to visit her and the boys at the Micah house that night, and my experience there was (and continues to be) a huge eye-opener for me.

The Micah house is a group home for boys who were once street kids. Growing up in the streets of Tegus, many of these boys were once heavily addicted to glue to numb their hunger and pain. But now! Now these boys are learning about God's deep love for them, taking formal classes, and they are absolutely radiating joy and sweetness. It's unbelievable.

As I said, I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about street kid soccer. It's uncomfortable and sobering to look poverty and abandonment in the face, and it's so much harder when the faces are so, so young. But my experience at that Micah house gave me hope. Because many of these boys were once just the others, bleary-eyed, incoherent, and hurting. But they have been rescued from that. They are clearheaded and playful and affectionate and they understand that they are deeply loved.

This has changed my way of looking at things; to witness the radical difference in these boys' lives gives me tangible hope for those who are still hurting. I can go to street kid soccer with a clearer vision and prayer to our Lord who is mighty to save.

Visit www.micahcentral.org to learn more

Church and Firedancing

At the risk of contrasting two oddly symbolic events...

A couple weeks ago we had a four-day weekend (our spring break had a few days cut out because of our unexpected days off). Lots of people traveled, and I ended up sticking around Tegus. It turned out to be an incredibly relaxing weekend, which was just what I needed. We spent a day hanging out at a hotel's pool on a gorgeous, 90 degree afternoon. Swimming, reading, napping...oh, it was luxurious.





We also checked out the Basilica de Suyapa, which was beautiful. We actually sneaked out onto a ledge overlooking the city. Then we were told not to. (Oops.)










The second event happened just last Friday night. I went to street kid soccer, which is an outreach for homeless boys addicted to glue. I don't play because, honestly, I'm terrified of getting bulldozed. But I sit on the bleachers with some others and talk with Hondurans and gringos. I really enjoyed my conversations that night. Afterwords, some of us went to the farmer's market downtown. There was incredible, rich homemade food being sold at stands, and absolute mountains of produce. Cucumbers and peppers and tomatos and mangos and avocados and...I can't even describe it. Everything so fresh! Later that night, a couple friends and I stumbled upon some fire dancers. Unfortunately, there are more pictures that won't upload right now. But here's the best one:



*Lots of these pictures are thanks to my roommate :o)

Um...

Today I was putting together science stations during my students' Spanish class, so I was half-listening as they read their descriptions of each other.

One boy, who happens to be one of my favorites, wrote about me. He said:

"Miss Johnson tiene pelo liso y cafe. Tiene un cuerpo delgado y con buena textura."
(Miss Johnson has straight brown hair. She has a thin body with good texture.)

Although I'm not sure what he meant, I think I'm flattered.

On love and acceptance

What is it in us that makes us desire love and acceptance from others, when we already have it in abundance, even beyond all we could ever want or need, in Jesus? Mother Teresa calls the greatest poverty that of "being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for." That is a devastating poverty, an existence in which you are told you are undeserving of love. We are made in the image of God, and as such, we are deeply loved as His children. We are considered precious by the Creator of the universe, the One Who knows every star by name, Who shaped Mount Everest and filled the seas with vivid colors and shells. He formed rolling hills and staggering redwoods and is the Originator of everything that is Good and Beautiful; He is the source of all love and compassion. And even knowing this, many of us still seek the approval of men. Men who are as the grass, here one day and gone the next.

The head and the heart really are two separate beasts.

"Give Me Your Eyes"

"Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me Your love for humanity

Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me Your eyes so I can see"

~Brandon Heath

Tía

Today, my friend Kaytie and I went to IHNFA (an orphanage) to volunteer. We're hoping to go once or twice per week (depending on the week) to spend time with the kids there.

We showed up just in time for the babies' dinnertime, so we helped feed and love on them before they went to bed. There were maybe 8-10 little guys between the ages of 2 months to a couple of years, all being looked after by two women. My thoughts were on the futures of these babies: what would happen to the ones who don't get adopted? Are these future street kids, with their enormous black eyes and big innocent smiles?

After they went down for the night, Kaytie and I wandered around looking for the older kids. We found a group of kids hanging out, most of which were pretty small and younger-looking. They were between the ages of 7 and 11, but the 7 year-olds looked more like 5 and the 11 year-olds could pass for 16. All the kids were friendly with us, but we saw a lot of violent aggression come out in their "playing" with each other. One tiny girl (Faviola) kicked another girl in her spine (hard), and a couple got into pulling each others' hair.

I feel like a lot of the violence comes from the "fight for survival" mentality, the only one they've ever known. The most vocal 11 year-old girl told Kaytie they have their own gangs they've established inside the orphanage, and they fight and hate each other in the ways they've learned on the streets. They curse (in English and Spanish) and a few like to provoke a girl with mental special needs (Cindy) to physical aggression. The 7 year-old mute girl (Caty) also showed some anger/aggression, and another tiny one with a huge grin put her hands around our necks and choked us between hugging us goodbye. Already these kids have starting calling us "Tía" (Aunt).

These kids have some huge needs that really only Jesus can fill. We're confident that the Lord will be at work in their lives through His Holy Spirit, and we're excited to see what that is going to look like. Please be praying for them.

:o)

Today:

• There was a GORGEOUS sunrise behind tattered clouds.
• One of my students gave me a BEAUTIFUL red rose.
• All my students did all their homework.

It's a good day.

10 Jan. 1987

I think it's best if I update my blog now because it's my birthday and I can't be (further) reprimanded for my tardiness.

Christmas Break was an absolute blessing in every way. It was so refreshing to be with my family, and my cousin and his husband came out from New York for New Years, too. I so appreciated my time and conversations with them. I'm trying to talk Chris and Craig into visiting me in Honduras. (Then Craig can help me decorate on a budget!!)

While I was home, I was further blessed by all my friends who were home or came to visit. I got to spend time with friends from middle school, high school, and college.

One of my closest friends and her young family drove up from Santa Barbara and we spent a few days enjoying each others' company.





On my last night home, a couple good friends and I went linedancing. As if that wasn't enough...we also rode a mechanical bull. Yeah, that's right. And I'd do it again.

This weekend some friends and I celebrated my birthday. Last night, my friend Kaitlyn organized a group dinner and movie, which was really sweet of her. After the most terrifying taxi ride of my life (brake lights in front of us incited this guy to go faster), I realized I had locked myself out of my apartment, so I spent the night at a friend's house. That was probably the best conclusion to the evening I could have had, because we just thought out loud together about faith and heaven and humanity and aliens (we saw Avatar, ok?).

This morning (on my real birthday) some friends and I had breakfast together, went to church, and spent the afternoon lesson planning. I really enjoy my friends and am so thankful for them. Life may be hard, but it is also definitely good.

Encouragement

Today my kids told me I'm the first "good" math teacher they've had. I asked what they meant, and they said "All our other teachers only check if we do our homework, not if it's right or wrong." I explained I do that too; when I come around and check off their homework, I give them full credit if they just tried all the problems.

I explained, "If I give you 20 problems for homework one night, it would be best if I could check them all as right or wrong. BUT, there are 26 of you. So then I would check (and correct) 20 problems for each of the 26 students, which is 520 problems...for only one night's math homework!"

They said, "Yes, but you put the correct answers on the board and show us how to do the ones we got wrong." It was a great chance to explain self-responsibility and how they need to be in charge of their own learning. We check answers so they know what they really understand and what they need to work on. My job is to help them learn for themselves, not just to write things for them to copy without thinking.

I think the message got across.

One girl even told me she used to hate math but now she loves it. Another said I make it "funny." (...But I'm not sure exactly what that means.)

Turtle Liberation Movement: El Sal

Over Thanksgiving Break, some friends and I went to El Salvador.
(You can click on the pictures to make them bigger)

(Appropriate, right? He was hanging out near our hostel.)

We stayed for a couple days at a hostel called El Roble and met some great people, like Alicia (Belgian), Oleg (Russian), and Duncan (Canadian), along with some other teachers from Honduras. We ate well, surfed, played water volleyball (and failed), played cards, and had great conversations.

Oh! And we liberated turtles! (Meaning we released newborn turtles into the ocean.)

The second half of the trip we visited some of my friends from college in El Salvador. My friend Veekee (who I met in El Sal last May) met us at the bus station. She waited there for the two hours that it was late. I was floored, but really it's just another example of the emphasis Latin Americans place on relationship over time.

"Speak of those things that nourish the spiritual life...Godly conversation about spiritual matters very much helps spiritual advancement, especially when persons of like mind and heart are united to God." ~Thomas a Kempis

My visit with my friends in El Salvador can best be described as this. I'm not sure I can express with words the love and understanding they have for one another and for God, so please be content knowing it is immense and sincere.

And to my delight, we made sure to throw down a little linedancing.

Home is where the heart is.