Making it through alive

I know my top ten list was less than helpful. It left the question: “How?” completely unsaid.

So here’s the answer to the question “How do I not die?”

The grace of God. The grace of God. The grace of God. The grace of God. The grace of God. The grace of God. The grace of God. The grace of God.

Take my last week.

Monday I opened (6:30am), took a “break” for classes, and closed (9:00pm). Tuesday I opened again, then left for classes (which went til 8pm). Wednesday began my longest day yet–33 hours. I woke up at 6, did some work around the house. Then class, then lunch with dad, then 8 hours of work. Then meet with some classmates to work on a class project. Then go home and write my manuscript. I wrote straight through, with a break to bathe and a break to wake myself up (scrubbing a bathtub with undiluted vinegar is a good wake-up!) Manuscript done, I printed it off and took off to class. When classes ended at 3:00–I was done.

I went home, ate some Rice-a-roni my roommate made the night before and left for me, crawled into bed, read two pages of a Hardy Boys novel, wrote in one crossword puzzle answer, and fell asleep. I slept 17 hours without break. I’m guessing that’s my longest time spent without going to the bathroom. I had a bloody nose sometime in the night–so I’ll have to do laundry after I get done with work this evening–but I’m done with one leg at least.

Yep. The grace of God. That’s what does it.


Not all bad news

I told myself I wasn’t going to stress. Wasn’t going to watch the news. Wasn’t going to follow the play-by-play’s online.

So guess what I’ve been doing this evening?

If you guessed stressing and following the play-by-play’s online, you’d be right. Bonus points if you included an Excel spreadsheet with my own predictions for the winner.

I have to say I’m disappointed that the presidential race is leaning at Obama (I have little doubt that the networks have already proclaimed him the winner.) But, at least in Nebraska, there are small victories to celebrate.

Mike Johanns beat out Harvard boy Scott Kleeb in the Senate race–keeping one of Nebraska’s Senate seats in the Republican fold. (And Johanns is a much more conservative Republic than Hagel, who he’s replacing.) Jeff Fortenberry has been re-elected to the House of Representatives. I was also pleased to see Adrian Smith be re-elected. I enjoyed listening to him when he visited UNL’s college Republican’s a couple of years ago when he was running against the aforementioned Hahvahd child.

Even more exciting is the triumph of Tim Clare over Earl Scudder in the University of Nebraska’s Board of Regents race. Scudder made his support of embryonic stem cell research a main player in his advertising campaigns, euphemistically calling it “support for life-saving research.” Clare took a more ethical stance and proclaimed his support for the TRULY life-saving (and life-enhancing) adult stem cell research, but his opposition to the death-dealing embryonic stem call research. If you didn’t already know, adult stem cells are already being used for life-saving and life-enhancing therapies. Despite many years of research (and tons of research dollars spent), embryonic stem cells have failed to produce even one mildly successful therapy. YAY for CLARE! I’m glad you (and life) won.

Another big woohoo for Nebraska is the passing of an initiative to ammend the Nebraska constitution for the prohibition of Affirmative Action by any government entity. Equal Opportunity triumphs at last! Down with discrimination–up with getting the best guy (or gal) for the job!

But the biggest reason to not kill myself come January 19th (and perhaps even to celebrate despite the impending destruction of a nation I love) is what I read this morning in Revelation 19:6 “Alleluia! For the Lord God Omnipotent reigns!” And what I read this evening as I was copying Obadiah 21 “And the kingdom shall be the Lord’s.” I am temporarily a citizen of this earth, and a citizen of the United States of America. Despots rise and fall here, and every so often, a decent ruler comes into power. But I have a permanent citizenship in a kingdom whose ruler has never been voted out of office, never been overthrown by a coup’d’etat, never had a veto overruled by a two-thirds majority of senate and house. I have a king who has never cut military spending, who always keeps His men clad in the best of defensive armor and fighting with the most up-to-date offensive weapons. I have a king who has never taken from me what is rightfully mine to give it to another who does not deserve it–instead, He has taken what was rightfully His and given it to me (who cannot even begin to deserve it). The United States may be going to hell in a handbasket–but I’m not going with it, because I don’t belong here. “The Lord God Omnipotent reigns!”


Easter Collect

I love liturgy. I mean, I absolutely love liturgy. I think it’s just one of the most amazing things ever. For example, check out this collect from the Book of Common Prayer:

O God, who for our redemption didst give Thine only-begotten Son to the death of the cross, and by His glorious resurrection hast delivered us from the power of our enemy: Grant us so to die daily to sin, that we may evermore live with Him in the joy of His resurrection; through the same Thy Son Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

That’s the Easter Day collect, but it’s one I would do well to pray daily. To remember that I have been redeemed. To remember that I have been delivered from the power of the enemy. To remember to die daily to sin. But most of all, to remember to rejoice in the resurrection.


SAD Promise

Seasonal affective disorder. SAD. The acronym is fitting. SAD happens when light dwindles as winter approaches, causing some people to slump into a depression.

I’ve fought subclinical levels of SAD for a good portion of my life. I remember how awful it was the year I took my PSAT for real. When I got my scores, I was sure SAD had lost me the National Merit Scholarship. In the throes of the worst year yet, my score had dropped eleven points from the previous year. I remember my senior year of high school, suggesting to my roommates and housemom that I should just lay on the floor and die. They were worried–they should have been, and they shouldn’t. I didn’t actually want to die. Not enough to be suicidal. I just didn’t know if I could go on living. I remember college years, when I didn’t emerge from my room for weeks on end except to go to the bathroom. I didn’t want to do anything, just sleep.

Last year, I was officially diagnosed and began medication to treat the depression. I had actually been dealing better than normal. I still went to classes. I still maintained what looked like relationships. I maintained such a good facade that no one even realized that I was depressed. It took an awful, awful day to convince me that I needed treatment.

Treatment began and things improved almost immediately. I could cope. I didn’t feel disconnected. I was living life instead of just watching it pass by. I didn’t like taking medication for it, but the benefits were just too great.

Spring came and I started to discontinue the antidepressant–and suddenly another health problem flared up beyond control. It seems the medication had been doing more than one thing–it wasn’t just treating the SAD, it was controlling my blood volume too. Without it, I was graying out with alarming regularity–several times an hour. My PA and I decided to continue with the medication over the summer.

But now, with winter approaching again, I’m scared. I’m scared for it to start all over. What if the meds don’t handle it this time? I’m starting to gray out again more frequently. The lack of oxygen to my brain producing the grayouts is only a metaphor for what depression does to my soul. The gray begins, I brace myself to keep from falling. Dots swim before my eyes and I see nothing. Nothing but gray. I feel nothing but the queer lack of thought, the inability to reason. Terror. Entrapment. I can’t do anything about it. I can’t fight it. I can only brace myself for it and hope I can pick up the pieces once it’s over.

I’m scared, but by God’s grace I’m hanging on to a promise.

This is Isaiah 60. Check out verse 20: “Your sun shall no longer go down, nor shall your moon withdraw itself; for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and the days of your mourning shall be ended.”

When I read this a couple of months ago, it jumped out to me as a promise for SAD. My sun won’t go down–no winter–God is my light and he doesn’t hide. The days of my mourning will end.

Hope. That’s what this verse is. SAD won’t last forever, because God is my light and He’s going to be my light forever. He doesn’t change with the seasons.

I was sobbing on my bed last night, scared and helpless, when God reminded me of this Scripture. It took me what seemed like forever to find it. I was frantic, hanging on to the very last string of hope. When I found it, it was a floatie for my drowning soul to cling to.

I read the whole chapter. It calmed me a bit. Then I wrote it out, the whole chapter. “Arise, shine….darkness shall cover the earth…but the Lord will arise over you…then you shall see and become radiant and your heart shall swell with joy…”

It’s a promise for me. A promise for SAD. A promise that, really, there is hope. I am not bound for the abyss. I am bound for heaven, a place of unceasing joy, in the presence of my ever-bright Sun.


Song stuck in my head (Missing Mexico)

For the past several days, I’ve had a song stuck in my head. It goes something like this:
///Si tienes problemas, dile todo a el///
Cristo esta en la linea hoy

///Llamale, llamale, dile todo a el///
Cristo esta en la linea hoy

Rebekah and I spent a fair bit of time singing that song. She was teaching me some Spanish songs out of the old rancho songbook “Alabanzos el Rey.” It’s easy to learn and easy to get stuck in your head.
“///If you have problems, give them all to Him///
Jesus is the way today

///Speak to Him, Speak to Him, Give them all to Him///
Jesus is the way today

I went on a walk with John and Casandra this evening. It made me miss Mexico. I miss looking up and seeing the Milky Way every night. I miss Rebekah. I was remembering the walk we all took late one night. Elizabeth and Luis were walking the track as well, but it was mostly just Rebekah and Tonio and I.

It was dark and there weren’t streetlights like we have here. It was truly dark, real dark that you can almost taste. Rebekah and I were walking along hand in hand when Tonio jumped at us out of the brush in the center of the track. I was too surprised to react, but Rebekah jumped and squeezed my hand tighter. We all three walked on together–and Tonio decided to tell stories to pass the time. Of course, it was all in Spanish. The stories lost something in translation I think, but Rebekah (who was translating for me) was obviously getting a bit frightened. She might have been just starting to relax her grip when he got to another scary part, then she’d grab hold of my hand again.

I startled them a bit that night–singing and dancing in the dark. I can’t help it that I felt so free, so alive walking around that darkened track.

I miss it. It took me a while to get really Mexico home-sick, but it’s setting in now. I miss singing with Rebekah in the schoolroom. I miss family devotions and prayer time. I miss Tonio. I miss homemade tortillas. I miss the sky and the air. I miss the boys from the rehabilitation center. I miss hearing Spanish all the time.

My experience in Mexico seems to have faded into the background as I’ve dived back in to grad school and work. Nothing “momentous” occurred in Mexico. Just lots of moments–moment after moment. Talking with Rebekah in the schoolroom. Trusting God for how to teach. Flirting with Berto (just the tiniest bit). Getting ice cream at the plaza when I had no idea what I was buying. Trying out my Spanish on some unsuspecting person. Teaching and being translated. Hugs and “hermanas”. The heat of the day and the cool of the night. Tunas from the peddler that goes door to door. Visitors daily, new people to meet. Girl talk. Dressing up to go out on the town.

I miss those moments. I miss Mexico. Maybe someday, I’ll go back.


Last but not least

I’m going to guess that most of my readers have heard of the ten commandments. I’m also going to guess that most of you think that the ten commandments should be kept.

So how about this one: “Thou shalt not covet…” (Ex. 20:17) According to the American Heritage Dictionary (found online at dictionary.com), to covet means “to feel blameworthy desire for that which is another’s.” Envy is the most common synonym. Envy is defined by dictionary.com as “a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another’s advantages, success, possessions, etc.” Desire for something that does not belong to you, discontent with your own circumstances.

That’s a hard one to swallow. “Thou shalt not covet…” Does that really rank up there with “Thou shalt not murder”, “Thou shalt not commit adultery”, “Thou shalt not steal”? After all, coveting is something everyone does, right?

I’ve been slowly coming to discover that covetousness is a huge stronghold in my life. It seems almost every day I find something new to covet. I covet my neighbor’s husband and children. I covet the house she owns. I covet her car, her hair, her garden. I covet my neighbor’s artistic ability, or her athletic ability. I covet her three piece suit. I covet her job, or her assistantship. I covet her schedule, or lack thereof. Today, I covet her deep freeze.

Yet covetousness is not something to be taken lightly. Romans 1:29 lists envy among the sins that people who are “filled with all unrighteousness” commit. I Corinthians 3:3 describes envy as being a carnal behavior–one that mere men commit (not those who are filled with the Spirit of God). Galatians 5:21 lists envy as one of the evident works of the flesh–and states that those who practice such things shall not enter the kingdom of God. James 3:16 says that “where envy and self-seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are there.” Envy is not some sort of “little white” sin. It’s a big deal, capital offense, capital letter SIN.

Yet I tolerate it so often. I rationalize sin in my mind. “You’re just coveting her husband–it’s not like you’re lusting after him.” Uh. No. That’s not the way it works, Rebekah. Sin is sin. “How could you not covet that life?” Scripture says that God won’t give you temptation beyond what you can bear.

What is the antidote to covetousness? Philippians 4:11 “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” And how do I do that? Philippians 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Lord, strengthen me, that I might say with Paul: “I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.” (Philippians 4:12) Help me to learn–whether single or married, whether a student or a working woman, whether young or old, whether fat or skinny, whether well-dressed or with nothing to wear–to be content.


Mexico Monday (a day late): 10 years ago

Ten years ago, I made my first trip to Mexico. We traveled to Jaumave, where we painted a village church. A few years later, a massive storm sent water running through the wooden structure, causing the wood to rot. This is a picture of the rebuilt church.
church with block foundation

Ten years ago, on our way down or up (I can’t remember), we stayed at a place called “Way of the Cross”. I remember sitting in the white benches outside the building.
white benches outside building
I remember singing our trip theme song “Down at Your Feet, O Lord” around an electric piano in the chapel.
chapel
When we stayed at Way of the Cross on our way back up to Laredo this time, the chapel and other buildings had sustained damage from Hurricaine Dolly and were in a state of disrepair.

There have been many changes in the ten years since I first visited Mexico. Some have been good, some have been bad. One thing is certain, Mexico is in need of still more laborers. Pray that the Lord of the harvest would send laborers into His harvest.


Mexico Monday: State of the Unions

Several years ago, while I was praying, I saw a vision of walls surrounding the church. The walls were broken and crumbling, threatening to fail completely. God spoke to me that the walls represented marriages in our church–and that I needed to intercede, to literally “stand in the gap” for the marriages in our body. By God’s grace, many of the marriages that had been struggling during that time are now strong and many of the gaps have been rebuilt.

During my month-long stay in Mexico, I had an opportunity to “survey the walls” so to speak. I discovered that, at least in Jaumave, things are not well in the church, because things are not well in many marriages. Mexico is greatly in need of people who will stand in the gap for marriages.

While I was in Mexico, Jim and Caroline spent many hours counseling and praying with Manuel. Manuel’s wife, Lupe, recently took up with another man and has been threatening to leave Manuel for the other man. She has used the threat of leaving as a way to control her husband–if he attempts to discipline their daughters or enforce any boundaries whatsoever, she tells him she’ll leave. As a result, Manuel and Lupe’s five daughters run wild–the older ones introducing their very young sisters to much older men. The entire family is in turmoil. Manuel struggles with giving up hope. He struggles to be head of his home. Lupe openly rebels against God and her husband. The daughters pit father against mother, and do whatever they please. The church–seven individuals–is in peril because of the breakup of a marriage. Manuel and Lupe need people who will stand in the gap and help to rebuild the wall.

Tonio, the sixteen (now seventeen) year old boy who lived with us, was married via a shotgun wedding at age 14. He hasn’t seen his wife in at least a year, hasn’t seen his baby girl grow up. He’s growing in Christ–and that means he’s in a really tough spot. He alternates between crying over his wife and his baby girl and claiming that they mean nothing to him. He’s not sure if the marriage was legal–but he’s not sure that it wasn’t. He’s a sixteen year old boy–he gets crushes and has girls with crushes on him. He’s also married. Or at least, he might be. Tonio has to wrestle with what he is to do about his past, with what was done before he became a believer. Tonio needs wisdom to know how to proceed–how to mend his section of the wall.

Santiago started coming to church and to Jim and Caroline’s couples’ Bible Study alone. He and his wife were separated–the children lived with her. The group of couples started praying, and one Sunday Monica and the children showed up at church! Santiago and Monica and their two youngest came to visit us during my last week there. I enjoyed coloring with their little boys, but even more, I enjoyed the obvious testimony being played out before me. Santiago and Monica are seeking God together and God is rebuilding their marriage–and expanding their family. Monica is due anytime. By God’s grace, He is rebuilding the wall.

I gave three examples, but the trend reaches far beyond. Broken families abound. A man marries a new woman without obtain a legal divorce from his first wife. Couples move in together without getting married. A woman takes off to a different town with most of her children–she leaves one nine year old daughter behind. Young girls marry much older men as a way to escape the mountain villages. Daughters engage in prostitution. Adultery, fornication, bigamy, abandonment. And this in the church. The walls around the Mexican church are in desperate straits.

May the church respond as Nehemiah did when he received the report that the wall of Jerusalem was broken down. “So it was when I heard these words, that I sat down a wept, and mourned for many days; I was fasting and praying before the God of heaven.” (Neh 1:4) Nehemiah fasted and prayed. He mourned over Jerusalem. Eventually, he went to Jerusalem–to survey the wall for himself and to rally the people to rebuild it. I pray that God will raise up from among us Nehemiahs, who will pray and fast for the Mexican church–and some who will go and help to rebuild the wall. Please join me in praying for laborers to enter this field.


Mexico Monday: Rebekah’s Curriculum

I have a hundred things to say about Mexico, but life isn’t stopping here to let me say them all. So I’m introducing a new feature: Mexico Mondays. I will be sharing a snippet from my Mexico adventures every Monday for the next however long. So tune in to hear what God did in me and others in July/August of 2008.

I’ve always thought it would be cool to be a teacher. It was on my list of top three career choices during high school. I’ve read up on it–probably way too much. But even more than being a teacher, I wanted to be a HOMESCHOOL teacher. After all, an ordinary teacher is limited by all sorts of things–government standards, boards of education, time, curriculum, and on and on. A homeschool teacher, on the other hand, can do it all. She can write her own curriculum should she so choose, she can set her own schedule, she can mix and match and have fun while she’s at it.

I’ve read a dozen dozen books on homeschooling, and taken notes on them all. I’ve read about the Classical education, the Montessori method, the Charlotte Mason method, the unschooling approach. I’ve read about homeschooling preschoolers, kindergartners, elementary aged children, middle-schoolers, and high schoolers. I’ve read about homeschooling certain subjects, about creating unit studies, about taking care of paperwork. And I’ve absorbed the ideas. For years and years, I’ve soaked up homeschooling theories, methods, and ideas.

But I’ve never really had a chance to put them into practice. Until last month, that is. Because last month, I went to Mexico to homeschool Rebekah. I arrived having no idea what grade she was in or what level she would be at. Because she’s fourteen and I’d been told she was behind, I guestimated that she would be somewhere between fifth and seventh grade. So my reading directly prior to going was focused on that stage–the transition from “learning the rules” (grammar stage) to “thinking through things” (logic stage). I arrived to discover that I was on the wrong track entirely.

The first day I was there, I got out the many books I had brought along and Rebekah and I started reading together. I quickly discerned that I was not dealing with a fifth to seventh grade student. Rebekah’s reading was halting. She was having a hard time decoding–just figuring out what the words said. She was definitely not ready to start thinking about what the words MEANT (looking at themes and literary devices and the like). I scaled down my expectations, prayed for wisdom, and started in.

Within the first few days, I learned some important things about my student. At fourteen years old, she is very self-conscious and afraid of being thought of as a child. Being behind in school only increases her nervousness. Unfortunately, that meant that she was scared to even put pencil to paper for fear that she would spell something incorrectly. She would rather guess at an unfamiliar word than sound it out, because she thought sounding out was a “baby thing”. She was desperately perfectionist–wanting everything to be perfect before she put it down on paper. She continually searched for my approval before answering any questions.

The first thing I did, to help her to overcome her fear of writing, was sit her down to do copywork. I opened the Bible to a passage and had her copy it out. Thus, she had a chance to work on her writing, to see how words are spelled correctly, and to see what some of the conventions of grammar are. The copywork served its purpose within the first few days, and then she grew frustrated with it. She thought it took too much time.

In the other subjects, which I was piecing together as I went, I started at too high of a level. I was discovering holes here and there and everywhere–and having to backtrack to cover them. But both her and I seemed to be getting frustrated at starting on one thing and then backtracking. Rebekah seemed bored with the schoolwork we were doing–yet it wasn’t because it was too easy. On the contrary, it was still above her level.

I wrote in my journal–“She’s bored with school work, Lord–what shall I do? Give me wisdom…” And God led me to Proverbs 3:5 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”

I trusted God, and He provided. The next day, we began our new program. I shared with Rebekah what God had been speaking to me–then she did her journalling. We did math from a text–She played around with a mosaic while I read her a chapter from a book. We went over history–She taught me some songs in Spanish. We did spelling practice at the chalkboard–She reviewed her multiplication tables. She read from a book and answered questions about it. We played Yahtzee. We went back and forth, switching it up all the time. And it kept her interested for a few days. We tried a brief experiment with doing Hooked on Phonics–she wanted to do that instead of reading the book I’d picked (Mary Poppins). She changed her mind about doing Hooked on Phonics after she learned that I would not give her the answers.

She would continue to get frustrated with me when she would ask me if a certain answer is correct and I would return the question to her. “Well, does that answer the question?” I would ask. “If that’s the answer, then that’s what you should write down.” Initially, she took my response as a negative–that her answer wasn’t correct. So she’d try to ask me about something else. After a while though, I think she caught what I was doing. Then she started to tell me “I was just asking! There’s nothing wrong with asking.” And there wasn’t. I just wanted her to learn how to determine whether her own answers were right or wrong. Or, on other occasions, I wanted her to learn to sound out unfamiliar words instead of just telling her what the word was.

Those are the things you can’t learn about teaching from a book on homeschooling–or on pedagogy of any kind. I’ve studied learning styles and teaching techniques. I’ve studied material galore. I’ve read a thousand articles and hundreds of books. But they can’t tell you what individual issues you’ll come up against in the child you’re teaching. They can’t tell you about the heart issues behind behavioral issues. They can’t teach you about the passions that stay guarded. Only God can do that.

And by God’s grace, He opened my eyes to some of those issues as time went by. I discovered that my method of teaching history and science was a complete failure. It went in one ear and out the other. So God led me to do it differently. I discovered that I COULD NOT explain place values to Rebekah–despite trying for several hours (over the course of several days), I could not make it clear. Once I finally came to the end of myself, God told me how to teach–and she got it. She was writing extended form up to hundred thousands without aids after 20 minutes.

A new book, an abridged version of Jane Eyre, fell into our laps and we started reading it. Rebekah discovered her first favorite book. She has already read it over several times. A coincidence? I don’t think so. It was God’s grace. I opened an English text as I was sorting through the supplies that were there and discovered that it was just at the right level for Rebekah–and it was comprehensive enough to catch her up on all the grammar and writing stuff she hasn’t been doing.

When I arrived, Rebekah was a halting reader struggling with decoding and could only read out loud. When I left she was confidently reading silently. When I arrived, Rebekah was afraid to put pencil to paper because her spelling was so awful. By the time I left, she could write a page on a topic–with only two or three spelling errors. When I arrived, Caroline had all but given up on educating her daughter–she was exhausted, frustrated, and overwhelmed by the task. When I left, she felt she had a system that she could continue with despite the many distractions of their life in Mexico.

All this happened in four short weeks. Was it me? No way–I can’t accomplish that much. Maybe I am a good teacher–but I can’t take a student from a second/third grade reading level to a fourth/fifth grade reading level in a months time. Only God can do that. He made my time in Mexico more fruitful than I could have imagined. I am overwhelmed by the greatness of God.

Sidenote: I intended to tell you all about the curriculum I (by God’s grace) eventually set up for Rebekah–you know, what I actually ended up doing with all that homeschooling knowledge. But I got sidetracked by the greatness of God. I suppose that’s okay. But maybe someday I’ll tell you about the “curriculum”. ‘Cause I’m pretty excited about that too.


Hit the ground running

I’m home from Mexico, but I don’t have time for culture shock of any type. The pace has picked up and I’ve been running since I arrived. Only 10 hours after I returned to Lincoln (in the dead of the night), I had my first meeting. It has been meeting, work, errands, and business e-mails ever since.

Perhaps the whole thing might not have been so bad–except that I arrived home to find myself without internet access. The addition my parents are building onto their house had necessitated the removal of the directional antenna that was supplying wireless internet access to my home. So, a month’s worth of business that had been undone had to remain undone. I turned out not too much worse for the wear–I only missed the first hour and a half of a mandatory internship meeting because I was relying on memory instead of the e-mail to tell me what time it started at. Oops! But now that I have internet again (Thank you Dad!), I have been franticly catching up. E-mail Northern Illinois University to tell them I won’t be enrolling. (They sent me my acceptance letter on July 29–after I’d already left for Mexico. I haven’t had any opportunity to reply before now.) E-mail my classmate to thank her for going through the agenda of the missed meeting with me. E-mail some photos back to Mexico. Pay my student loans on-line (except that they won’t let me pay my loan online because I am entering my deferment period tomorrow, 3 days before the payment is due.) With that done, I can focus on catching up on my favorite blogs–and updating my own.

Of course, that’s assuming that I will have time at my disposal. Today I skipped the “Big Red Welcome Street Fair” to do some online stuff, but I can’t do too much skipping in the upcoming week. Tomorrow, I begin my first day of classes as a graduate student–and my first day of work as a opening servery person. I’m not too worried about the classes (except for seminar) in this first week. Work tomorrow is a whole ‘nother matter. First of all, I’ve never opened servery before–and I understand it’s a pretty rushed job. Second, I just got home from Mexico and while I haven’t had to deal with jetlag, my bio-clock is definitely a bit off–which makes a 6:30 am position a little scary. Lord, give grace.

WARNING: GRAPHIC (but not pornographic) CONTENT AHEAD. FEEL FREE TO SKIP THE NEXT PARAGRAPH.

All the running and busyness probably wouldn’t be so bad, except that my body chose re-entry into the United States as a chance to reassert itself. It handled the chiles and lard of Mexico just fine, but almost the minute we crossed the border at the beginning of this week, my GI system rebelled. I don’t know if I had some food poisoning a couple of days before we left, or if the water that I rinsed my toothbrush under once we got into the states had something in it, or what–but I am definitely adjusting. My stomach starts churning, and I find myself praying that it’ll rest at least ’til the meeting’s over or my shopping’s done. So, if you want to pray for my trip–pray that traveling mercies will extend beyond the trip and that I’ll shake whatever this is quickly.

END GRAPHIC CONTENT.

I’ve heard talk of culture shock after even just a week in another nation, but I haven’t really experienced it after a month. The typical things I hear–shock at America’s excesses, anger at American’s insensitivity, etc–haven’t really affected me. I saw poverty, sure. I saw a lot of differences. But I don’t feel shock or upset over them. I find that I can easily transition from one world to another. In Mexico, I had enough clothing for a week. Here in America, I have enough clothing for a semester. In Mexico, I had access to a television. In Lincoln, I have no access to TV (and am never bothered by it.) I just ignored the TV as much as possible in Mexico. Here, I have makeup. I didn’t bring any with me to Mexico. There, I woke up when the sun or the dogs or the roosters woke me up. Here, my computer wakes me up playing worship music. There, I had only one task, without a rigid schedule–teach Rebekah. Here, I have a hundred tasks, all with strict timetables. Either one works. Yes, there’s the physical adjustment. The body has to deal with different eating, sleeping, working schedules. But psychologically? I don’t feel culture shock. Either place and situation works fine for me.

Maybe I’ve been blessed with the ability to be content in any culture. Maybe I’m perfectly suited to short-term missions. Maybe I was born to be a world traveler. Or maybe I haven’t slowed down long enough for culture shock to hit.