Striving for Greatness

My plans to be a mud-hut missionary were, at the least, put on hold towards the end of my year at GIAL. That was partially the cause and partially the result of the difficulty that I went through while I was in Dallas, and it was most of the reason for coming home.

One of the greatest joys I experienced during that difficult year was working in an after-school program at a local elementary school. So when I came home, I applied for every teaching-related position I was eligible for, and I was hired to work in a fifth grade classroom as an assistant. My love for the classroom only grew during that year. Around January, I decided to apply for my teaching certification. I looked online, and finished a program that I could do even at work. I was double-tasking all the time. I would watch the online videos with headphones while I stapled papers. I answered quiz questions while I waited on printing and graded homework. In May, I took my exam, and I got certified for my probationary year.

Now, I'm 11 weeks into the school year with my own classroom full of sixth graders. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, but one of the most rewarding. Some days, I come home with only enough energy to walk to my bed. Some days, my students drive me crazy. But most days, they're the most wonderful people I know. They forgive without thinking about it. They surprise me with artwork. They accomplish things that they never thought were possible. They make me laugh with all the ridiculous things they say, and even more, they appreciate my jokes.

My new blog title seems every day more appropriate. Life is more enjoyable when we are satisfied knowing that we are in His will. It is He who makes our path, not us. When we try to take our lives into our own hands, even when it looks like His will, we only end up frustrated and dissatisfied. There is beauty in letting go of our ideas of the future, of our ideas of success, of our ideas of who we are, and then allowing Him to fill us with His idea of the future, His idea of success, and His idea of who we are.

For so long, I thought I had to be something great. Maybe I thought I needed it to impress God. Maybe I thought I needed it to make my life worth something. Who knows? But ever since I let go of my own idea of success - moving to another continent to share the Gospel and lead an impressive number of people to Christ - and just did what I could manage, right here, right now, I've had peace. God is God here just as much as He is God in Africa. He is God in a sixth grade English classroom just as much as He is God of the Sahara Desert and the Amazon Rainforest. When we are faithful to Him in our daily lives, no matter how small they seem to us, He is glorified. When we give Him glory, we fulfill our purpose. Maybe one day I'll do something great for the Kingdom that seems great in the world's eyes as well, and maybe I won't. Either way, I will strive to follow His guidance. It's much greater than striving for greatness.

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 3:10

Becoming part of the culture

Higor, my 8-yr-old friend, was glued to the screen he held in his lap, and so were the rest of us. The sweet protagonist, Maria, was finally forced to confront her nemesis, Ramona, who had spread all sorts of lies about Maria and Paolo, Maria's fiance. Ramona, rubbing salt in the wound, told of yet another treason: Susana, a "friend" of Maria's, had come onto Paolo when Maria was out of town!

Maria said to Ramona, "She would never do that!" Ramona began to grin a slow, terrible, evil grin.

"Oh yes she would!" I said out loud.

Higor turned to me and with a sly look, he said, "...and she did."

It's easy to get caught up in certain parts of culture. And if you have never watched a Latin television show and understood it, you cannot possibly understand how addicting that drama can be! Things like that can suck you right in, which is wonderful for learning culture.

 

A Taste of Brazil

I have a weakness for a type of Brazilian country music called Sertanejo. Click to preview: Sertanejo on Youtube. You can skip forward and preview a mix of songs. It is really fun to dance to, and the lyrics are usually pretty funny.

Some things are exactly the same, just in a different language.

 

Brazilian One Direction. They're called "Fly." The good-looking one in the sports coat is named Nathan. Go figure.

And some things are entirely different.

Oh, you know, just your typical quail eggs hanging out in the middle of the chicken eggs.

Below are a couple of videos of the apartment where I'm staying. It's a pretty cool place.  

Here is a video of the kitchen.

  

 

A Caveat About the Protests

Everybody is asking about the protests. Have I seen one yet? Am I going to take part in one? What is really going on? The truth is, I was in a car and drove past one just the other day, but it was small and peaceful. I hardly saw anything. And that's the only experience I've had with them. The people here know what's going on. They know where the protests are going to be (and it's not hard to figure out) and they pretty much avoid them unless they really want to take part. I haven't met many who are really that politically charged, though, so I've just been hanging out with people - typical, everyday, normal people. Don't believe everything you see on TV.

 

Difficulties

A few things have been difficult to navigate. I've made cultural mistakes, probably offended a person or two, been offended myself, and I'll probably experience all of that again. But through the difficulty that is living in another country for awhile, God is reminding me why I love it. There aren't many challenges this big that I would enjoy taking on. I don't ever want to climb a mountain. I don't have any desire to run a marathon (or even two miles, actually). It makes no difference to me if I never learn to sail. But becoming part of another culture, that's my kind of challenge. It motivates me every day. 

So when someone starts yelling (because they're Italian by blood and that's normal), and I feel like shying away (because of my English heritage), I have to remember that "different" does not mean "wrong." It's a strain on my brain, but I like it. I have to think through that when the boys call me "linda" and whistle at me on the street - totally offensive where I come from, but it's just a way to compliment a girl here. I have to think through it when I give someone a gift and they don't open it in front of me, when I go to greet someone and they kiss me on the cheek, when I misspeak and everybody laughs, when I want to spend time alone and someone tags along, when we try to plan something and nobody arrives on time, or when I try to help out around the house and the help isn't as well-accepted as I expected. All of these things are confusing. They're bothersome. They're difficult to handle. But they make me better. They pull me outside of myself and force me to see things from a different angle. And I thank God for the challenge.

Q & A and Funny Stuff

Q & A

1. Why are you in Brazil?
      I have been dreaming of coming back since the last time I was here. It feels like a second home for me, and I can't really describe it. Many of you know that I have just come through a very difficult time in my life, and part of that difficulty was being unable to travel. But God is good, and He brought me through. This trip is my proof that He is able to provide financially, emotionally, and relationally. He has showed me that I am not powerless. The second reason is to help out with a church mission trip. The last two weeks of my stay, I will be traveling with a group of people from my church, working and translating for them.

2. What are you doing while you are there?
     I have some really good Brazilian friends that I met in Dallas, and they are hosting me and taking me places. For the most part, I'm just "being a Brazilian." I have my own little room in my friend's apartment because her sister is currently studying in Dallas. I wake up every morning and have breakfast with Daniela, and then she goes to work. From there, I have been hanging out with some of her other friends, including the cute little kids whose picture I posted on Facebook. I've been tirelessly working on my Portuguese so that by the time the mission group arrives, I'll be able to do whatever they need from me.

The Funny Stuff

Conversations I have had: the making of maple syrup, pancakes, Title 9 (why it's mostly women playing collegiate soccer), bipartisan politics, HOV lanes, "No, I don't just 'kind of' live in the desert. I live in the actual desert," the difference between a canyon and a valley, Justin Bieber and One Direction, Paula Dean and the "n" word, public schools and uniforms, snow, track and field, whether or not Pretty Little Liars and Gossip Girl count as soap operas, and can I please bring back a play-do machine the next time I come.

Trouble with greetings: Here, you greet with a kiss. It's simple enough. I have known that for years. I've visited before. And still, there are situations I have no idea how to navigate. For instance: in a car between people in the front seat and the back seat, when the other person is at a distance, if the other person is wet from rain, or getting into a car. To complicate matters, the locals try to be considerate of the fact that Americans don't typically greet with a kiss, and a 23-year-old habit of shaking hands is hard to break. So when I go to greet someone new, it's almost guaranteed to be awkward in some way or another. I have gotten my arm all twisted around, been kissed on the forehead, had to crane my neck really far to reach the other person, and once, I ended up in an awkward combination of the manly handshake/hug/pat-the-back ritual and a kiss. Lucky for me, nobody really seems to care.

Things I have learned:  

Dogs can be trained to sneeze on command.
The Portuguese word for "charge" as in "charge a phone" is dangerously close to a curse word. Oops.
Brazilians will, in fact, be honest with you once you get to know them.
Someone falling on their face is funny in both languages.
There is a place called the "Museo da Lingua Portuguesa." (Museum of the Portuguese Language) In case you were wondering, the answer is yes. I am most definitely going. Be jealous.

The Adventure Begins

I'm riding in the car with my friend's dad. He and Daniela came to pick me up from the airport, but she has gone to work, and I am headed to the apartment to get settled in and take a nap. It's drizzling outside the car, and I'm lost in thought. I am a little afraid to speak for fear of making a mistake. Sometimes it's just easier not to try to make conversation because the only outcome is confusion. But then he asks me, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm just trying to get accustomed to the differences," I respond. "Everything is different. The trees are different, the weather is different, the language is different, the buildings are different, the streets are different, the clothing is different, and even the smells are different." It's perfect. 

The first thing worth noting is trees: massively tall and flourishing with jungle green leaves; some have bright, pink and purple flowers, and they're everywhere. When streets get narrow and there isn't a lot of space for cars, there are still trees on the sidewalk. Everything seems to be green, right up to the cloudy, gray sky. It has been raining since I landed: a nice, steady drizzle.

Buildings are made of stucco and full of color. They're lime green or orange or sky blue. The sidewalks are paved with dark gray brick. The cars are tiny in comparison to our Texas edition trucks, and the lanes in the road don't matter as much here as they do in the states. People just sort of go wherever their car will fit. Every building has a gate in the front wall and kind of a built-in porch/carport behind it. The language is like Spanish, but with a hint of French and German. There aren't many people with blue eyes, but it's difficult to see a difference in skin-tone. There are european descendants and Afro-brazilian descendants, so the majorty of the genetic make-up is really similar to the states. It's a common misconception that Brazilians look hispanic. 

It's winter here in the southern hemisphere, but São Paulo isn't far enough south to really make a difference in temperature. When it rains, it gets a little chilly for Amarillo standards, but for the people here, it's like a blizzard just hit. They're always worried that I am cold! They also worry that I am hungry. Americans are not used to having to decline many times in a row. Here, it would be rude for them not to ask more than once (or two or three or four times) just to be sure I couldn't possibly want even just one more bite. In the states, if someone asks twice, we think they weren't listening when we answered the first time, and it's difficult to remember that this is not the case here. Last night, I looked to Daniela and said, "I don't know how to say, 'no.'" And we laughed.

People here are patient, which is wonderful for language learners. If I don't know how to say a word, I can describe it, and they will listen even if it takes five minutes just to discover that single word. They're also genuinely hospitable. If I need anything, they are quick to get it for me. "Mae" and "Pae" insist that I refer to them as such (that's Mom and Dad). Last night they gave me a guitar to play and you might have thought I was Katy Perry the way they went on about it.

The food is wonderful. Ham and cheese are expected at breakfast along with bread and various creamy toppings, which include Nutella, butter, and a form of cream cheese that has the consistency of yogurt. For lunch, rice and beans are the staple, but there is always meat at the meal. They will always add a variety of interesting things to the meal. Yesterday, it was a mild vinegar-based pico de gallo (they call it vinagrette) for the bread, and french fries. Dinner is similar to lunch. Coffee is served everywhere all day long, and it is strong. It is always served with an exorbitant amount of sugar. Snack cookies (made by Nestle) are readily available pretty much everywhere along with the coffee.

Toilets (because I have to include something funny) are not capable of flushing toilet paper. Everything else is fine - goes down just like you would expect. For the record, they flush counter-clockwise. But you are supposed to throw the paper away in the trash. I always mess that up at least once, so I took care of making that mistake yesterday. Oops!

Words I have confused:
confuso/confundo/confundida - confusing, confuse, and confused (but it's also possible that one of those is not actually a word)
teto/teta - roof/breast (it doesn't help that a group of local protesters call themselves "roof-less"...)
shocada/coshada - shocked/having one's legs intertwined with someone else's
engrasada/gracioso - funny/gracious (because of Spanish)
atirar/tirar - to throw/to take (in Spanish, tirar means to throw)
pegar - in Spanish, this means to hit, but in Portuguese it means to get or grab

Today is slow, so I had some time to write. Later on today, I plan to meet Daniela's friends, and after that, I can't promise I will have much time for many more of these. We've got plans to go to the movies, to visit the aquarium, to go dancing, shopping, and swimming at the beach!

Primer and Primers

When you learn to read, you start with letters, then you progress to small words, and then to small books. These books are called primers. When you paint, if you want to do it right, you put on a coat of primer before you put on the paint. 

I've always been the type to jump to the end. I didn't want "See Spot Run." I wanted C. S. Lewis. I certainly never wanted to read directions. And God knows me. He knows this about me. I often joke that God's most common words to me are "Slow down!"

Recently, He taught me that again. I work sometimes at my church's adopted campus with the youth group. We decided to update the youth room. It hadn't been remodeled in more than ten years, and it was bad. We had to unscrew metal roofing panels from the walls, which had been screwed in at six inch intervals all the way around the room. We comically referred to the texture beneath the red paint as "outside of Taco Bell." It was a half-inch thick in some places. We had to sand it down completely. Beneath the paneling, we discovered a different texture altogether, and the walls were not red, but bright blue. We had to use primer.

So it began: we painted. And painted. And painted. And we seemed to get nowhere at all, because the primer was white, like the majority of the walls at this point (they had already been re-textured). Finally, we decided to be done. When we painted the color, however, it made a difference. It made a huge difference, in fact. With help, we were able to finish painting and setting up in a very short amount of time. Then came the true test: Wednesday night.

It was beautiful. It was as if the change of scenery changed the whole attitude of the youth group. Students who had stuck to themselves for as long as I had been there started to interact with everybody else. Girls opened up to me. They felt relaxed. Worship was an entirely different experience. It was brand new. This weekend, we held a girls' retreat in the newly-painted youth room. More girls showed up for the retreat than total students come on a typical week. It was a wonderful experience. The girls opened up, and grew together. They thought deeply about the things we talked about and shared experiences with each other, encouraged each other, challenged each other.

I kept thinking about the primer. Priming was hard work. It seemed to go nowhere. It seemed completely unrelated to any spiritual value. In short, it felt like worthless, wasted energy. But it wasn't. Without the primer, we would have no new paint. Without the new paint, we would have no new environment. Without the new environment, we would have missed opportunities to reach those students with Christ.

Right now, I am teaching in Amarillo. At first, it seemed like I was going nowhere. It seemed completely unrelated to any spiritual value. It felt like worthless, wasted energy. But it isn't. I have had the opportunity to share Christ with a youth group that runs about 12-14 students on a weekly basis. I organized a girls' retreat. I get to use my teaching skills to run a homework help session once a week for the students who are struggling with their grades so that they can continue to come to church on Wednesdays. Although I am not in China, I spoke about God in Chinese in a place where it is illegal to do so. I counseled a girl who was struggling with suicidal thoughts, and I got to tell her that God had created her with a purpose. There are children who come into our classrooms every day dealing with divorce, abuse, bullying, hunger, and a million other stressors. And every day, I get to be a light in their lives. I get to say, "you're safe here." I get to say, "you are deeply loved." I get to say, "you are unique, you have a purpose, and you are going to do great things."

And those words, in a language I understand, are far more valuable than "I'm hitting you with a banana," which happens to be the only phrase I know in Swahili. If I had gone by my plan, I would be preparing to go to Mozambique right now. I would be headed to Africa, where I have never been before, to start a literacy program, when I have never even taught a class of my own, in a language that I do not speak.

God said, "Diane, you need to put on the primer." He knew if He told me the end-game, I would jump right to it. I would skip the primer, the planning, the preparation, the practice. And I would miss all the wonderful blessings He had in store for me during that time.

Don't be afraid of hard work. Don't be afraid of the primer. There are a million blessings in priming.

Love, as always,

Diane