Neven teaches Arabic and is in charge of the greenhouses here on campus. I like her. She is really tall, which is an insignificant detail. She’s also very straightforward, which is very unusual for an Egyptian, especially a woman. It’s very refreshing. I like to know where people stand, and it’s nice to not have to guess what someone’s thinking. I’ve asked her to teach me Arabic, and she’s excited about it. Students have taught me some words, but they have not taught me how the language works, so I’m really hoping to learn quite a bit. I’m excited. Taylor started coming with me. That’s good.
Neven and I are in charge of the play for the Christmas program. We were instructed that there was to be nothing to do with drinking or drugs in the play. Stupid instruction, I thought. Then I remembered: No… that’s a very good guideline. Nothing should be assumed. The last time I was here, there were some people that were really pushing for something along those lines. And I think it was the last line or two that mentioned something about, “Oh, it’s Christmas. Let’s forgive the drunk man that murdered my family.” “Okay.” Yes, I exaggerate, but that was the story line—I kid you not. Not this year. We’re doing the nativity story. Gladys suggested that we ask a man who sometimes works on campus if we can borrow his baby camel for the play. Neven came to me last night and said that we couldn’t. “Why not?” “Because he ate it.” So that’s that, I guess.
In my junior and senior Bible classes I’ve been teaching a lot about marriage. I am not married, nor do I have kids, yet they still take me seriously. Haha. I guess that works. This past week we split up the girls and the guys. Pastor Tom talked with the guys, and I took the girls and talked to them about physical abuse in relationships, waiting for a guy who is worthy, rape, and how we teach people how to treat us. On Monday I will be teaching them about female genital mutilation. Egypt and Sudan have the highest rates of FGM in the world. I believe that it started along the Nile and is a tradition that persists. It is apparently less common than it was ten years ago, but I am sure that some of these girls must have undergone it. I want them to learn about what exactly happened, why it is pointless, why they should never make or allow their daughters be cut, and what the hymen has to do with virginity. It is still a very common practice here for the family to come the day after the wedding to see the bloody sheet. I was mortified when I first heard that, but now I’m more used to the idea of it. I mean, who needs privacy anyway?
One of my Egyptian friends got married a couple years ago to a non-Egyptian guy. We were at her house, and her non-English speaking family was talking in Arabic about the wedding that was coming up and about how they were going to come over the next day, etc. Her fiancé got very serious and said to her and me in English, “They will see nothing. If they want to see blood they can go kill a goat.” I started laughing and was so proud of him.
I wish that marriage was more respected and treated more sacredly in American culture than it is. And I have come to appreciate how highly marriage is regarded here. But there are downsides to every good thing, and here the downside is that girls sometimes feel like they can’t get out of relationships. Dating around is not an option. Reputation is just about everything, and a girl who has dated too much in her past, or even at all, may not be looked at as an acceptable girl to be with. Even if a guy is fine with her, his family might really have a problem with it. And her family is all paranoid that she will seem loose and dirty. But I strongly emphasized to them that it is better to feel pain and shame and be talked about now than to be miserably married to the wrong man for the rest of their lives. I am excited about teaching these girls to make decisions for themselves. I am all about honoring parents and authority, but I think that here, especially within the conservative Upper Egyptian cultures, families don’t know how to mind their own business. Everything is everyone’s business. I put a lot of emphasis on “…a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”
Who is he leaving?
His mother and father.
Who is he becoming one with?
His wife.
So who is he supposed to put first, his wife or his parents?
His wife. But Miss, the Bible says to honor your mother and your father.
You can and should still honor them. But you are one with your wife. You must be united to each other. And you must put each other before your parents. Love them, honor them, but you may have to establish boundaries with them so that your marriage can work.
I do not want to turn them away from their families, but when everyone in their extended family lives in a single apartment building all on top of each other, or even within the same house, the controlling mothers-in-law run wild.
Before we split up the girls and the guys, I began to touch on domestic violence, and I realized that I had to cross a couple guys off my I-don't-think-he’d-hit-me list. It was surprising and yet not. I heard reasons like, “No, it’s not good, but we are only human and sometimes we can’t control ourselves,” and, “We saw our fathers do it all our lives, and their fathers did it, and their fathers did it. It’s part of our culture and it’s what we know.” I explained as best as I could why it is very faulty logic to think that that is acceptable even if “by accident” and added solid Biblical reasoning. But me explaining all of that may have just sounded like someone who didn’t want to get hit. So I let the big 6’4” man, Pastor Tom, finish that one off.
I have high hopes for these students. They are good. And I am so thankful that we can teach them these things. There have been so many things that I have just considered common sense, but then I realize later through something that I’ve seen that I learned that information in school at some point. So hopefully what we are teaching them will become like common sense.
I told the class that I was going to marry someone who would teach Sabbath school with me someday and we’d have the young people from our church over during the week and eat and talk about God. Ashraf smiled and said in a That’s-cute,-let-me-pat-you-on-the-head-for-your-sweet-idea voice, “There’s no one like that, ya Miss. There’s no one like you.” “Ashraf, you can come to my wedding someday.”
“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” –Psalm 37:4
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Trust inspires growth.
I am normally teaching the seniors’ Bible class during this time, but right now I am sitting behind them on the stage of the church as four of the guys stand up and talk to the class. They told me that there was a problem this weekend, and they needed to solve it and asked if they could solve this problem while everyone was together because a lot of people wouldn’t show up if they called for a meeting. Sitting here, I am so proud of them. I understand a few words here and there, enough to get a very basic understanding of what the problem might be, and the way that they are going about it is so mature and responsible. Starting with a word of affirmation and encouragement and then addressing what the issue is. They are letting each other finish speaking instead of overreacting, storming out, and talking over each other. This never would have happened three years ago. For those of you who know the students here, the ones up front leading this discussion are Peter N, Bassem M, Ashraf A, and Peter S—SA and class presidents and vice presidents. I have been surprised by the leadership in all of them—I did not expect this. And I guess this is a really good example to support that people step up to where they are called. If we call them to a higher place, they will come to it. If we expect little, we will get little. Trust inspires maturity and leadership. Peter N was sneaky and lazy. Bassem was hotheaded and unwilling to communicate. Ashraf was a class clown who didn’t take responsibility for his actions. And Peter S was immature, with the voice of Mickey Mouse, and definitely not capable of leading his class. I respect these guys.
I also couldn’t be more proud of the way that the wall has fallen between the Egyptians and Sudanese within this class. The girls take pictures together and the guys joke around and affirm each other. They are so much more united than I remember, and Bethany says that racism is so much less of an issue than it was her first year here, the year before I first came in 2009. They still have their own preferences in music, food, and other things, but they appreciate and respect each other. I am so pleased. I want to end this post before I have to take anything back that I have just said. Just kidding.
Here are some of the guys joking around at a senior party they had. (L-R: Omar, Antony, Peter N, Bassem, Adeeb, Ashraf, Shenouda)
I also couldn’t be more proud of the way that the wall has fallen between the Egyptians and Sudanese within this class. The girls take pictures together and the guys joke around and affirm each other. They are so much more united than I remember, and Bethany says that racism is so much less of an issue than it was her first year here, the year before I first came in 2009. They still have their own preferences in music, food, and other things, but they appreciate and respect each other. I am so pleased. I want to end this post before I have to take anything back that I have just said. Just kidding.
Here are some of the guys joking around at a senior party they had. (L-R: Omar, Antony, Peter N, Bassem, Adeeb, Ashraf, Shenouda)
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Her name means “happy.”
I sat on her bed writing in my journal because Priscila and Mary were already asleep, and there was nowhere else to sit in the house. Saeda was looking through pictures on Facebook next to her sister Marina, who had fallen asleep long before her. Saeda told me this year that she remembers when I first taught her in ESL three years ago. She remembers my big poster that said, “Good morning,” and “My name is…” I love it that I am one of her first memories of speaking English. She learned English really quickly because she is so outgoing and loves to talk.
I came back to visit NUA in May of 2011, just a couple weeks after the microbus accident that injured several of the students and ended up killing one of them. It was in that accident that Saeda lost half of three of her fingers after they were crushed. We were afraid that she would not come back to school after the accident, but she did. And I remember helping her soak and wrap her hand in the way that the doctor had instructed her. I remember the stitches, and how she didn’t like to look at it. She was always very strong though. I admired her. Most Egyptian girls are “foffy” (wimpy), but not this one. This one impressed me. This one called me to a new level of optimism and strength and trust. I was worried about her dreams of becoming a doctor. And I remember fuming about the girls who told her to hide her hand because someone might not want to marry her. Any deformity or imperfection is a big deal, especially for an Upper Egyptian girl.
So as I was sitting on her bed we began to talk. And eventually the conversation led her to ask me why God allowed that to happen to her. Why to her? We talked about this broken world full of pain and imperfection, and then about the beauty that God draws out of every ugly thing. I told her of her influence and how inspiring she is and how she reminds people that they can be strong when they begin to forget. We talked for a while longer.
The name Saeda is a very old name. No one here really names their daughter that anymore. She said she never knew why she was named that until the accident. As soon as she said that, chills shot up my spine. Saeda means “happy.” Now she loves her name and thanks God for it. It was perfectly chosen for her. And I just love God for things like that. He created her inmost being. He knit her together in her mother’s womb. I praise Him because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is such a positive and optimistic person. She does not deny that anything happened and is still haunted by images of it at times, but she is always smiling. And when she speaks up front, she has no shame in using her hands to talk. There is absolutely no effort to try to hide anything, and I’m so proud of her. Al Humdolillah. God chose her name. God named me too. My name means “Princess.” I never liked the meaning of it. I am not a girly girl. I am not high maintenance. I don’t have the commanding yet graceful presence of a princess. But in the summer of 2011, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “I don’t call myself a princess, but God thinks I’m one.” God thinks the world of me and lifts me up to that level. He chose my name too.
I came back to visit NUA in May of 2011, just a couple weeks after the microbus accident that injured several of the students and ended up killing one of them. It was in that accident that Saeda lost half of three of her fingers after they were crushed. We were afraid that she would not come back to school after the accident, but she did. And I remember helping her soak and wrap her hand in the way that the doctor had instructed her. I remember the stitches, and how she didn’t like to look at it. She was always very strong though. I admired her. Most Egyptian girls are “foffy” (wimpy), but not this one. This one impressed me. This one called me to a new level of optimism and strength and trust. I was worried about her dreams of becoming a doctor. And I remember fuming about the girls who told her to hide her hand because someone might not want to marry her. Any deformity or imperfection is a big deal, especially for an Upper Egyptian girl.
So as I was sitting on her bed we began to talk. And eventually the conversation led her to ask me why God allowed that to happen to her. Why to her? We talked about this broken world full of pain and imperfection, and then about the beauty that God draws out of every ugly thing. I told her of her influence and how inspiring she is and how she reminds people that they can be strong when they begin to forget. We talked for a while longer.
The name Saeda is a very old name. No one here really names their daughter that anymore. She said she never knew why she was named that until the accident. As soon as she said that, chills shot up my spine. Saeda means “happy.” Now she loves her name and thanks God for it. It was perfectly chosen for her. And I just love God for things like that. He created her inmost being. He knit her together in her mother’s womb. I praise Him because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is such a positive and optimistic person. She does not deny that anything happened and is still haunted by images of it at times, but she is always smiling. And when she speaks up front, she has no shame in using her hands to talk. There is absolutely no effort to try to hide anything, and I’m so proud of her. Al Humdolillah. God chose her name. God named me too. My name means “Princess.” I never liked the meaning of it. I am not a girly girl. I am not high maintenance. I don’t have the commanding yet graceful presence of a princess. But in the summer of 2011, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “I don’t call myself a princess, but God thinks I’m one.” God thinks the world of me and lifts me up to that level. He chose my name too.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
This is a man's world.
We had a 10-day vacation during the time of an important Muslim feast. So Austin, Jeff, Mary, Priscila (the Argentinian SM who works at the preschool in Heliopolis), and I travelled to two Upper Egyptian villages—Zewak and Tatalyah. We took the train from Cairo to Sohag Monday night on our way to Zewak.
This is part of my journal entry.
Welcome to Zewak!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012 9:24pm—on my bed @ Saeda’s house; Zewak, Egypt
Today has been on of the longest days of my life. We got here at 6am—a sweet Muslim lady helped us to know when to get off the train in Sohag. She was nice and smiled at me a lot. We thought we passed the station and were paranoid for a while. Mina Farid and Girgis Magdy were at the train station waiting for us. I feel very comfortable w/ them an dcan treat them like friends instead of putting on my I’m-trying-to-please-you-by-smiling-constantly face. We came to Saeda’s, where the girls are staying, and we slept for two hours.
We got up at 8:30 and ate the typical Egyptian breakfast—fool (beans), falafel, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, warm sweet buffalo milk, and this thick Upper Egyptian bread that they bake on the roves here. Then Mina came for us by yelling Saeda’s dad’s name outside the house. (He said that if he said hers or her sister’s names, her dad would kill him. I guess then because the neighbors would know that a girl named Saeda lived there. People’s lives there seem to be ruled by everyone else’s opinions.) We stepped over some dead birds, dead mice, and even a flattened cat as we were walkeing around today. The dirt roads are scattered with hay, garbage, pieces of sugar cane, feathers, poop, and dead animals. It was comfortable with Mina’s family. I’d been there a couple years ago. Plus his uncle was there who works in Kuwait and speaks very good English. He’s funny and more westernized, though I don’t believe that the Zewakese men who work in Kuwait treat their wives in a western way. The houses we visited today were Mina & Girgis, Sobhy, Mikhael M, Ibrahim A, Yousef & Iscander C, Lina H, Gad S, Amir H, Adeeb & Adel, Ashraf, and Steven’s. Lunch at Mina’s, dinner the second time we went to Mikhael’s house. We also went very begrudgingly to the pastor’s house because of Mr. S____. I’ll explain later.
Marina, Saeda’s sister, tried on her mom’s berda, which is a big black robe thing that many of the Christian women have to wear when they go outside—“have to wear” because their husbands say so. They are wearing just as much clothing as the conservative Muslims wear, but just in a different way. Saeda’s mom got married when she was 13. She said she didn’t even know what marriage was. (When we talked to her and Saeda later, they were explaining that you never really think to question your parents. They say, “You’re going to be engaged to this guy.” You say, “Okay.” No big deal. Such is life.) She is now 36. She said (and this is all through translation) that she is in such bad shape now that she wouldn’t be able to walk to the main road. She gets tired going up her stairs. Why is she in such bad shape? Because she hardly ever can leave the house. She is upset that Saeda is not engaged yet. Saeda though she’d be engaged by 15 or 16 and married at 18 until she came to NUA and felt her eyes were opened. Her mom is upset and wants her to be engaged, but her dad thinks it’s good and wants her to finish school. (Thank God that he seems to be pretty progressive.) Mina’s aunt and grandma cooked for us. They weren’t allowed to go in certain parts of the house in case men walked by and saw them. Then his uncle would have shouted. The men sat around and joked and were served, or so it appeared (but I acknowledge that we came here to see mostly guys) while the women served them. This is such a man’s world. It made me depressed. This is where Mina grew up before he moved to Alexandria, but he said he cannot stay here when I asked how he preferred things after he explained some things about the women. Gad’s brother got married August 4. He works in Kuwait, and his beautiful young wife lives alone in a beautiful house. Her name is Wafa’. She is beautiful. She must be 18 or so. She was talkative and sweet and fun, though she didn’t speak a word of English. She asked us to stay with her. I think we will Wednesday night. –Oh no! I hear a spoon stirring in a glass outside the door… more tea? Hibiscus? Lord, please no! I drank 9 sodas, 3 cups of juice, and 2 cups of tea today in addition to three gigantic meals. I almost threw up. –Anyway, I feel so bad for cute little pregnant Wafa’ because she’s only a kid. And she’s lonely and her husband works in Kuwait. I think we will have a good time staying w/ her. I know more Arabic than anyone in our group, and we can make do w/ that. Maybe God will use us in her life. Al Humdolillah.
This is Priscila wearing a berda at Ibrahim's house with his aunt and grandma. She is showing more here than a woman on the street would. They house the headscarf part mostly closed in front of their faces.
Oh, when we first got to Saeda’s house just after 6am, Marina walked down the stairs of the animal room/area (?) from the bedrooms holding her 1 ½ year old brother Mosa. Priscila was in front of me and went to touch him to say hi, but she jumped a little. I looked, and in his hand was a black pigeon that he was clutching by the wings.
I’m not sitting on Saeda’s bed. We’re talking about life here. She said before NUA, she was a “blind cat” (expression in Arabic). I am SO endlessly thankful that she is at NUA. She and the other girls. There are so many beautiful, smart, fun women trapped away. In the house, they do joke and seem comfortable, which is a relief to me.
If any change happens it has to be because Zewakese men buck the system. Saeda said she wished our love and marriage class was taught here. Ha! They would beat me to death--not sure if that’s an exaggeration or not… But it has to start with a Zewakese man. Lord, have mercy.
We went to a meeting at the SDA church tonight, and Yesa Mosa (Maryam’s brother) is the pastor. There is still the wall between the men and women’s sides of the church. They sang enthusiastically and that made me happy. Then he welcomed the guest from Nile Union Academy. “Shukran.” (Thank you.) Then he said that they were going to have one of the teachers from NUA speak to them. We all looked around at each other. No one volunteered, so I gave two impromptu sermons. My first one apparently wasn’t long enough, so I had to talk about something else.
This was taken at the SDA church in Zewak. It's the SMs with some of the students, one of the elders, and some kids.
I have a LOT more I want to write about, so I will update again as soon as I get the chance.
This is the food that we ate at Steven's house. Egyptians make so much food that you can never eat more than half of it. In Tatalyah, the tables were so filled food that there was nowhere to put all of the bowls.
This is part of my journal entry.
Welcome to Zewak!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012 9:24pm—on my bed @ Saeda’s house; Zewak, Egypt
Today has been on of the longest days of my life. We got here at 6am—a sweet Muslim lady helped us to know when to get off the train in Sohag. She was nice and smiled at me a lot. We thought we passed the station and were paranoid for a while. Mina Farid and Girgis Magdy were at the train station waiting for us. I feel very comfortable w/ them an dcan treat them like friends instead of putting on my I’m-trying-to-please-you-by-smiling-constantly face. We came to Saeda’s, where the girls are staying, and we slept for two hours.
We got up at 8:30 and ate the typical Egyptian breakfast—fool (beans), falafel, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, warm sweet buffalo milk, and this thick Upper Egyptian bread that they bake on the roves here. Then Mina came for us by yelling Saeda’s dad’s name outside the house. (He said that if he said hers or her sister’s names, her dad would kill him. I guess then because the neighbors would know that a girl named Saeda lived there. People’s lives there seem to be ruled by everyone else’s opinions.) We stepped over some dead birds, dead mice, and even a flattened cat as we were walkeing around today. The dirt roads are scattered with hay, garbage, pieces of sugar cane, feathers, poop, and dead animals. It was comfortable with Mina’s family. I’d been there a couple years ago. Plus his uncle was there who works in Kuwait and speaks very good English. He’s funny and more westernized, though I don’t believe that the Zewakese men who work in Kuwait treat their wives in a western way. The houses we visited today were Mina & Girgis, Sobhy, Mikhael M, Ibrahim A, Yousef & Iscander C, Lina H, Gad S, Amir H, Adeeb & Adel, Ashraf, and Steven’s. Lunch at Mina’s, dinner the second time we went to Mikhael’s house. We also went very begrudgingly to the pastor’s house because of Mr. S____. I’ll explain later.
Marina, Saeda’s sister, tried on her mom’s berda, which is a big black robe thing that many of the Christian women have to wear when they go outside—“have to wear” because their husbands say so. They are wearing just as much clothing as the conservative Muslims wear, but just in a different way. Saeda’s mom got married when she was 13. She said she didn’t even know what marriage was. (When we talked to her and Saeda later, they were explaining that you never really think to question your parents. They say, “You’re going to be engaged to this guy.” You say, “Okay.” No big deal. Such is life.) She is now 36. She said (and this is all through translation) that she is in such bad shape now that she wouldn’t be able to walk to the main road. She gets tired going up her stairs. Why is she in such bad shape? Because she hardly ever can leave the house. She is upset that Saeda is not engaged yet. Saeda though she’d be engaged by 15 or 16 and married at 18 until she came to NUA and felt her eyes were opened. Her mom is upset and wants her to be engaged, but her dad thinks it’s good and wants her to finish school. (Thank God that he seems to be pretty progressive.) Mina’s aunt and grandma cooked for us. They weren’t allowed to go in certain parts of the house in case men walked by and saw them. Then his uncle would have shouted. The men sat around and joked and were served, or so it appeared (but I acknowledge that we came here to see mostly guys) while the women served them. This is such a man’s world. It made me depressed. This is where Mina grew up before he moved to Alexandria, but he said he cannot stay here when I asked how he preferred things after he explained some things about the women. Gad’s brother got married August 4. He works in Kuwait, and his beautiful young wife lives alone in a beautiful house. Her name is Wafa’. She is beautiful. She must be 18 or so. She was talkative and sweet and fun, though she didn’t speak a word of English. She asked us to stay with her. I think we will Wednesday night. –Oh no! I hear a spoon stirring in a glass outside the door… more tea? Hibiscus? Lord, please no! I drank 9 sodas, 3 cups of juice, and 2 cups of tea today in addition to three gigantic meals. I almost threw up. –Anyway, I feel so bad for cute little pregnant Wafa’ because she’s only a kid. And she’s lonely and her husband works in Kuwait. I think we will have a good time staying w/ her. I know more Arabic than anyone in our group, and we can make do w/ that. Maybe God will use us in her life. Al Humdolillah.
This is Priscila wearing a berda at Ibrahim's house with his aunt and grandma. She is showing more here than a woman on the street would. They house the headscarf part mostly closed in front of their faces.
Oh, when we first got to Saeda’s house just after 6am, Marina walked down the stairs of the animal room/area (?) from the bedrooms holding her 1 ½ year old brother Mosa. Priscila was in front of me and went to touch him to say hi, but she jumped a little. I looked, and in his hand was a black pigeon that he was clutching by the wings.
I’m not sitting on Saeda’s bed. We’re talking about life here. She said before NUA, she was a “blind cat” (expression in Arabic). I am SO endlessly thankful that she is at NUA. She and the other girls. There are so many beautiful, smart, fun women trapped away. In the house, they do joke and seem comfortable, which is a relief to me.
If any change happens it has to be because Zewakese men buck the system. Saeda said she wished our love and marriage class was taught here. Ha! They would beat me to death--not sure if that’s an exaggeration or not… But it has to start with a Zewakese man. Lord, have mercy.
We went to a meeting at the SDA church tonight, and Yesa Mosa (Maryam’s brother) is the pastor. There is still the wall between the men and women’s sides of the church. They sang enthusiastically and that made me happy. Then he welcomed the guest from Nile Union Academy. “Shukran.” (Thank you.) Then he said that they were going to have one of the teachers from NUA speak to them. We all looked around at each other. No one volunteered, so I gave two impromptu sermons. My first one apparently wasn’t long enough, so I had to talk about something else.
This was taken at the SDA church in Zewak. It's the SMs with some of the students, one of the elders, and some kids.
I have a LOT more I want to write about, so I will update again as soon as I get the chance.
This is the food that we ate at Steven's house. Egyptians make so much food that you can never eat more than half of it. In Tatalyah, the tables were so filled food that there was nowhere to put all of the bowls.
Friday, October 26, 2012
My Life Here
I took this picture out the window of the microbus yesterday afternoon. It just gives you a small idea of what it looks like outside the walls of the school
This is Wasseem and Mario - they are two of the "squirrels" in ESL. They're both from the village of Dahasa. Wasseem absolutely loves to sing. It's so cute. They're both very outgoing and work hard for their grades. A sponsor has been found for Mario. I'm still looking for one for Wasseem. His father died, and that makes it very difficult for the families in a patriarchal culture. I wish he was smiling naturally here. His smile is SO big and really sweet.
These are the ESL students' memory verse books. They get a new memory verse every week. Some of them are artistic, and some, as you can see, are the stereotypical guys who couldn't care less about aesthetics and crafts. At the very beginning, they understood almost nothing in English, so I drew a picture on the board of a book and tried my best to explain that we were making a book and they would add a new page every week... but for some reason many of them got the idea that I wanted them to draw a picture of a book on the front of their book... haha. Oh well.
The senior class planned a day where they arranged for all of their classes to be outside. They also all dressed up nicely in black and white and then ate a special lunch outside together--chicken! I love the class spirit. They're so much more unified than when they were in ninth grade.
Meet our Student Association! Jackline (treasurer), Peter (vice president), and Ashraf (president). I agreed to be the SA sponsor, and I was worried about having to follow up with them a lot and remind them of their responsibilities, etc, but they have surprised me with their dedication foresight. I'm really proud of them. I'm also proud of the student body because the tenth grade class president and the girls' representative (new position thanks to Ashraf!) are both Sudanese. The wall between Sudanese and Egyptian has come down so much in the last few years.
The Student Association sponsored a trip for the students on a Saturday night to go on a Nile Cruise for a couple hours. We had a talent night on the boat, so this picture is of Chol, Deng aka "Shibly," and Steven rapping about NUA. Steven's was in Arabic, so it sounded pretty cool.
Joseph (ESL) and Joseph (10th grade)
A soccer team from an outside Sudanese school came to play our boys. Soccer is a huge deal here. It's the main sport in Egypt (and in the world), unlike the US, which has many different sports that are a big deal... which makes none of them really as big of a deal as soccer here. We won!
Me at the Bent Pyramid in Dahshur. The angle changes from 54 degrees (I believe) to 45 degrees halfway through. It is believed that the pyramid may have collapsed had they continued at the same angle. This one is older than the pyramids of Giza.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
I am cayada. God's love is deep.
On Sunday night I walked back to my house and saw two students there who come and ask for help sometimes. I did not have the time to help them then and didn’t feel like telling them I couldn’t. But this time they didn’t want help. One is a boy in ESL named Ashraf. His English is pretty poor for his class. He was a day student earlier, and I think he was just overwhelmed and didn’t try. He then moved into the dorm and seems happier and more motivated. I’d started tutoring him during study hall every once in a while—oh his English was SO bad. He knew next to nothing. He has been showing improvement though, so I’m glad that he’s not completely in over his head. Anyway, Ashraf had a bag in his hand and had Sameh translate for him. Ashraf said that he had been very discouraged and wanted to leave NUA, but then I talked to him and helped him and he felt encouraged because he knows he has a sister here. He gave me the bag, and in it was a little statue of St. George holding a lamb. Different. But really sweet. Sameh had asked for my picture a while ago—I wasn’t sure for what. But on Sunday night he gave me a black mug. He told me to boil water, so I did. When I poured it in the mug, my picture appeared on the side of it. It was really sweet for him to go out of his way like that. He was really proud of it too. He is very good, but I have to pray for patience with him sometimes.
I had a good conversation with a tenth grader named Mina yesterday. Last week he had brought up the idea Heaven will be boring. I’ve explained to him that all his mind can wrap around is what he knows here and now, but he has absolutely no concept of Heaven. From there we started talking about hellfire and how long it lasts. And I showed him several verses and explained that eternal suffering is still eternal life and that it’s the punishment that lasts forever, but not the suffering. We jumped around to different topics and questions that he’s never found satisfactory answers to. I was really thankful for the wrestling with God and the Bible that I went through in high school because now I feel much more capable and comfortable answering difficult questions. I feel prepared and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to struggle myself. But beyond the moderate satisfaction he got to his answers, I realized that he falls in the same category as so many people in the world. They believe they are always messing up, which means they’re constantly letting God down. They know that God “loves” them, but it is different than any other relationship they have, so “love” is kind of undefined. They believe they’re going to be lost anyway, so they just accept it and enjoy their lives here and now. I told him of God’s incredible love for him—in the most realistic way I could express it—and I told him what grace means and how he cannot do anything to make God love him any more or less. Even the “good” people are not righteous enough for God’s standards, but that’s okay because Jesus’ blood covers us. Humdolillah. One of the other boys that’s a lot like him, Mavdy, came over and listened and then asked some questions. I was so thankful that he was there. There are many of these guys here that are free thinkers, very quick thinkers, somewhat naturally rebellious, and really enjoy their friends. They do tend to get in more trouble, but they’re good guys. Personality Dimensions-wise, they’re pretty green-orange or orange-green (NT & SP for Myers-Briggs). But they’re so good. And I really appreciate them. And because of their natural bucking against authority, they feel like God must also be disappointed and annoyed with them too. Doignadsiofn! (“For You created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13,14 BOOM!) I told Mina to come to me when he has questions, and he seemed pleased with that. Humdolillah. I’m thankful to be here.
I’ve been pretty excited about my junior and senior Bible classes. There is no subject I’d rather teach than Bible. We just went through a good study about what the Bible says about dancing because they had questions about it, especially in regard to the school’s policy. I feel like I helped them to feel empowered, hopefully like they could study things on their own. Or maybe know how to go about studying things. After break, we’re getting into talking about marriage. I feel like Mrs. Peterson, my own high school bible teacher. I was talking to some girls tonight, and they mentioned something about a man hitting a woman. I seemed to give off a strong opinion, and that sparked a conversation. They said that it’s so easy and common for a man to hit his wife, especially in Upper Egypt. When he does that, it kind of asserts his authority and makes him like a man. I said that God gave him a bigger body and stronger muscles to do good—to protect her—not to use them against her. And if he isn’t responsible enough to be a man, he should probably lose his man parts… But that would mean just about all of their dads would be eunuchs. One of the girls was saying that a man will hit his wife so hard that she’ll fall to the ground—and I am sure she is speaking from her own family experiences. Then the girls started talking about how you can’t trust men because they act one way, and then when they get married they become completely different people. Saeda said that her aunt was engaged to someone who had said that she wouldn’t have to wear this big black thing (the Christian equivalent of Muslim-woman clothes, where instead of putting it on your head, you have to hold it over you and hold open a small slit in the front to see through). After they got married he started hitting her and insisted that she wore the black thing. I am going to be teaching them very much in depth about red flags in dating and about domestic violence. The girls were so pleased with America when they learned that a person can be sent to jail for hitting his wife. Saeda said that a guy here at the school hit his girlfriend, and the girlfriend just accepted it. Saeda said that if that is happening when they’re only dating, it will get much worse in marriage—I was very proud of her insight. I pray that these precious girls would be physically safe in the future and that the guys that they end up with would treat them well. They’re so sweet. And I pray that the guys would be self-aware enough to recognize where their anger is coming from and how to go about handling it. These guys are good. There is a lot of aggression—it’s a very aggressive culture in general—but I know many of the guys very deeply. And I believe that if the students are taught good things, they can improve much. The same goes for raising kids. I believe that most parents have good intentions. Many of them just don’t know how to go about doing things—or they have never seen a good example, so they’re doing the best for what they know. I’m very much looking forward to teaching them what to look for in a person—good things and red flags, fundamental differences between men and women, and principles for raising children. “Nanny 911” is my favorite show, so I’m going to use clips from that show to illustrate my points. May God give them wisdom and guidance.
There is a word in Arabic called “cayad” (or “cayada” for females), and it describes someone who like to make people angry. Said in anger, it is an insult. Otherwise it’s okay. I really really enjoy being cayada. I am not exactly sure why, but I get so much pleasure from being intentionally irritating or difficult. A friend told me on skype the other night, “I was thinking the other day, you’re the closest thing to a bully I’ve ever had.” I don’t know why I am so proud of that. Anyway, now you understand cayada.
I’m learning more Arabic. I’m trying to be intentional about it. I can understand more than last time, so I’m happy about that. I’ve also been better at putting sentences together. Yesterday the senior class president, Peter (who was one of my good friends when I was here last time) made an announcement in Arabic to the seniors about how they’re going to play the staff in volleyball and to wear red. When he was finished, I went up to him and said in a cayada voice, “I am going to wear aHmar (red) tomorrow.” “Ya miss, no.” “Yes. I am going to wear aHmar. All the staff will wear aHmar.” “No, you cannot!” And I just beamed at him. We played a couple hours ago. Both teams were wearing “aHmar.”
They all just left for home leave. There is a Muslim feast on Friday where they slaughter tons and tons of animals—beautiful sight—and school is cancelled then and for the next week. We’re going to see some stuff around Cairo, and then next week I am going with some others to visit students in Zewak and Tatalaya (near Asyut, for those of you familiar with Egyptian geography). I am really looking forward to it. I pray that the students would all be safe. We take praying for traveling mercies very seriously ever since the microbus accident two years ago.
Love you all.
I had a good conversation with a tenth grader named Mina yesterday. Last week he had brought up the idea Heaven will be boring. I’ve explained to him that all his mind can wrap around is what he knows here and now, but he has absolutely no concept of Heaven. From there we started talking about hellfire and how long it lasts. And I showed him several verses and explained that eternal suffering is still eternal life and that it’s the punishment that lasts forever, but not the suffering. We jumped around to different topics and questions that he’s never found satisfactory answers to. I was really thankful for the wrestling with God and the Bible that I went through in high school because now I feel much more capable and comfortable answering difficult questions. I feel prepared and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to struggle myself. But beyond the moderate satisfaction he got to his answers, I realized that he falls in the same category as so many people in the world. They believe they are always messing up, which means they’re constantly letting God down. They know that God “loves” them, but it is different than any other relationship they have, so “love” is kind of undefined. They believe they’re going to be lost anyway, so they just accept it and enjoy their lives here and now. I told him of God’s incredible love for him—in the most realistic way I could express it—and I told him what grace means and how he cannot do anything to make God love him any more or less. Even the “good” people are not righteous enough for God’s standards, but that’s okay because Jesus’ blood covers us. Humdolillah. One of the other boys that’s a lot like him, Mavdy, came over and listened and then asked some questions. I was so thankful that he was there. There are many of these guys here that are free thinkers, very quick thinkers, somewhat naturally rebellious, and really enjoy their friends. They do tend to get in more trouble, but they’re good guys. Personality Dimensions-wise, they’re pretty green-orange or orange-green (NT & SP for Myers-Briggs). But they’re so good. And I really appreciate them. And because of their natural bucking against authority, they feel like God must also be disappointed and annoyed with them too. Doignadsiofn! (“For You created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13,14 BOOM!) I told Mina to come to me when he has questions, and he seemed pleased with that. Humdolillah. I’m thankful to be here.
I’ve been pretty excited about my junior and senior Bible classes. There is no subject I’d rather teach than Bible. We just went through a good study about what the Bible says about dancing because they had questions about it, especially in regard to the school’s policy. I feel like I helped them to feel empowered, hopefully like they could study things on their own. Or maybe know how to go about studying things. After break, we’re getting into talking about marriage. I feel like Mrs. Peterson, my own high school bible teacher. I was talking to some girls tonight, and they mentioned something about a man hitting a woman. I seemed to give off a strong opinion, and that sparked a conversation. They said that it’s so easy and common for a man to hit his wife, especially in Upper Egypt. When he does that, it kind of asserts his authority and makes him like a man. I said that God gave him a bigger body and stronger muscles to do good—to protect her—not to use them against her. And if he isn’t responsible enough to be a man, he should probably lose his man parts… But that would mean just about all of their dads would be eunuchs. One of the girls was saying that a man will hit his wife so hard that she’ll fall to the ground—and I am sure she is speaking from her own family experiences. Then the girls started talking about how you can’t trust men because they act one way, and then when they get married they become completely different people. Saeda said that her aunt was engaged to someone who had said that she wouldn’t have to wear this big black thing (the Christian equivalent of Muslim-woman clothes, where instead of putting it on your head, you have to hold it over you and hold open a small slit in the front to see through). After they got married he started hitting her and insisted that she wore the black thing. I am going to be teaching them very much in depth about red flags in dating and about domestic violence. The girls were so pleased with America when they learned that a person can be sent to jail for hitting his wife. Saeda said that a guy here at the school hit his girlfriend, and the girlfriend just accepted it. Saeda said that if that is happening when they’re only dating, it will get much worse in marriage—I was very proud of her insight. I pray that these precious girls would be physically safe in the future and that the guys that they end up with would treat them well. They’re so sweet. And I pray that the guys would be self-aware enough to recognize where their anger is coming from and how to go about handling it. These guys are good. There is a lot of aggression—it’s a very aggressive culture in general—but I know many of the guys very deeply. And I believe that if the students are taught good things, they can improve much. The same goes for raising kids. I believe that most parents have good intentions. Many of them just don’t know how to go about doing things—or they have never seen a good example, so they’re doing the best for what they know. I’m very much looking forward to teaching them what to look for in a person—good things and red flags, fundamental differences between men and women, and principles for raising children. “Nanny 911” is my favorite show, so I’m going to use clips from that show to illustrate my points. May God give them wisdom and guidance.
There is a word in Arabic called “cayad” (or “cayada” for females), and it describes someone who like to make people angry. Said in anger, it is an insult. Otherwise it’s okay. I really really enjoy being cayada. I am not exactly sure why, but I get so much pleasure from being intentionally irritating or difficult. A friend told me on skype the other night, “I was thinking the other day, you’re the closest thing to a bully I’ve ever had.” I don’t know why I am so proud of that. Anyway, now you understand cayada.
I’m learning more Arabic. I’m trying to be intentional about it. I can understand more than last time, so I’m happy about that. I’ve also been better at putting sentences together. Yesterday the senior class president, Peter (who was one of my good friends when I was here last time) made an announcement in Arabic to the seniors about how they’re going to play the staff in volleyball and to wear red. When he was finished, I went up to him and said in a cayada voice, “I am going to wear aHmar (red) tomorrow.” “Ya miss, no.” “Yes. I am going to wear aHmar. All the staff will wear aHmar.” “No, you cannot!” And I just beamed at him. We played a couple hours ago. Both teams were wearing “aHmar.”
Love you all.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
I am rich.
I was at Pastor Tom and Gladys' house tonight with Austin and Jeff, and we were deciding where to go for the upcoming break. We want to visit some students' villages and do some other things. We were talking about who lived where and where we could stay, and there were some that they said we should not stay with. Why? Because the families are too poor, and it would just wipe them out to have American guests stay at their houses. I have such a hard time taking from them anyway (though I want to please them by accepting their generosity), but taking so much from their families just hurts. There are so many students with so little money. One family apparently had the door on their refrigerator break, so it was/is(?) leaning against the fridge for months because they couldn't afford to fix it. The dad works so hard for that family. Just thinking about how much these people need makes me embarrassed of how much I have. I want to give more than I receive. I pray that God would help me to be selfless. Who am I to be born into such a good family and to have so much? I have carpet, air conditioning, a freezer, microwave, bed, good pillow. I have lots of clothes, though it doesn't feel like a lot sometimes. I am so blessed, and that the realization makes me feel very restless.
Pastor Tom said that there is at least one person crying in his office every day about not being able to pay their school bill. There are so many people in need. If you are able to help anyone, let me know. I will give you information about the student and a picture. Even $20/month is very helpful. Feel free to email me.
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Pastor Tom said that there is at least one person crying in his office every day about not being able to pay their school bill. There are so many people in need. If you are able to help anyone, let me know. I will give you information about the student and a picture. Even $20/month is very helpful. Feel free to email me.
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I'm proud of them.
Sabbath, October 13, 2012 2:00pm
Things have been busy but good lately. I am so proud of the ESL students because they understand so much more than when they first got here just over a month ago. Some had panicked faces when I asked their names at the beginning of the year, and now they can understand quite a bit of what I’m saying if I use very simple vocabulary, hand motions, and an occasional Arabic word.
I’m having a hard time with the idea of leaving in December. I am supposed to go home to my normal life and just continue. And my core resists that intensely—not the going home part, but the part that is me just moving on as if none of this exists. My best comparison is to an ended relationship. It hurts incredibly deeply to leave, but you know that you must find a new normal. And knowing that time heals is fiercely bittersweet because you want to be okay, but the thought of not being as close to someone or something that was once your world is such a broken thought. “Broken” meaning, messed up… or not the way that things were supposed to be. Coming home is inevitable, and I love home. I miss home. But I just don’t want to let this go. How in the world will I let go? This whole world is here. And it’s not just a person or two. It’s 160 plus the ones that have finished or dropped out plus the sound of the mosques and the donkeys and the familiar hallways and smells. I hold on to things very deeply, and it’s hard for me to let go. But I will. Enough, that is.
Bassem is a senior that I taught in ninth grade. I have always liked him, but he hasn’t always been the easiest student. He seemed pent up with deep thoughts and emotions, and just unsettled and angry. It comes very naturally to me to see and believe that there is a lot of good in people, or at least the potential for good. I’m very thankful that God has given me an empathetic heart, and Bassem has always had a special place in my heart. Anyway, I remember that in ninth grade, he was assigned to work with another student in class, and they were having some sort of a scuffle and were both too proud to do a class-related activity together that they preferred to be sent to the principal. Stupid. The other night I was talking to Gladys, and I was saying that I was so proud of him because he seems much more mature than he used to and he was up front translating for Pastor Tom. She said that he has changed so much and that one time he reacted in some positive and unexpected way. Pastor Tom asked him, “Bassem, what happened to you? Where did you learn that?” “From you.” Tears just rushed to Pastor Tom’s eyes.
It’s times like that that make up for the illogical student who stands up to give a contradictory diatribe about how the teacher is unfair followed by a standing ovation from the rest of the class. It’s times like that that make up for ESL boys trying to fight, having to be held back by other classmates the one time that we go outside to sing songs and do something different for Bible class.
After study hall in the ad building, I was by the water fountain by one of my eleventh grade students. I felt like I should stay and connect with him just for a second by asking him how he was doing in a tone like I actually wanted to know. He said he was fine and told me that he was so excited when he heard that I was coming back because he had heard from the other students who had had me before that I was a nice and good teacher. That surprised me but made me feel good, especially since this guy and I don’t really connect in class at all. He came to me the next night after punching a wall. So I took care of his hand, and tried to talk to be as understanding as I could. I asked him what he does when he’s angry and some other questions. I asked him if he talks to anybody. He told me that he’s not really close to anyone here. I told him that I would listen if ever he needed someone. And he smiled at me. And I felt his trust.
There’s a girl in ESL here who bothered me at first. She wears smoky eye makeup and in the rare times that she would make eye contact, she would close here eyes halfway like someone next to a bonfire and her head would ever so slightly bobble around. What are you doing? I spent a while trying to figure out if there was something wrong with her or if she was just strange like that. Her English is probably the worst in the entire class. And her shyness and insecurity are obnoxious in that she almost refuses to try to understand English and will ask questions through other people. She didn’t want to say something out loud in Arabic but wanted to speak through a friend. I told her no. While seeing other sick girls in the dorm, I have had the opportunity to connect with her. We don’t talk at all because her English is just as bad as ever (poor thing is about to drown…), but she makes eye contact with me and smiles. She likes me. I love her.
With my juniors and seniors I have been teaching them about confrontation and about self-defeating habits. I taught them how to use I-Statements (I feel…, It hurt me when…, etc.), to not use superlatives (always, never, everyone, all the time, etc), and some other things. One boy told me very frankly that he wasn’t going to use any of this stuff in real life but is just studying to pass the class. I told him that that’s fine because it’s now in his head, and he will benefit greatly from just being aware of it. I worry about this student a lot. He so much trapped inside of him. He’s just a big ball of hurt, and I don’t know what happened, but I want him to be okay. Hopefully God can use me to help him. I feel like the forgiveness part of our class will be incredibly difficult but potentially groundbreaking.
Things have been busy but good lately. I am so proud of the ESL students because they understand so much more than when they first got here just over a month ago. Some had panicked faces when I asked their names at the beginning of the year, and now they can understand quite a bit of what I’m saying if I use very simple vocabulary, hand motions, and an occasional Arabic word.
I’m having a hard time with the idea of leaving in December. I am supposed to go home to my normal life and just continue. And my core resists that intensely—not the going home part, but the part that is me just moving on as if none of this exists. My best comparison is to an ended relationship. It hurts incredibly deeply to leave, but you know that you must find a new normal. And knowing that time heals is fiercely bittersweet because you want to be okay, but the thought of not being as close to someone or something that was once your world is such a broken thought. “Broken” meaning, messed up… or not the way that things were supposed to be. Coming home is inevitable, and I love home. I miss home. But I just don’t want to let this go. How in the world will I let go? This whole world is here. And it’s not just a person or two. It’s 160 plus the ones that have finished or dropped out plus the sound of the mosques and the donkeys and the familiar hallways and smells. I hold on to things very deeply, and it’s hard for me to let go. But I will. Enough, that is.
Bassem is a senior that I taught in ninth grade. I have always liked him, but he hasn’t always been the easiest student. He seemed pent up with deep thoughts and emotions, and just unsettled and angry. It comes very naturally to me to see and believe that there is a lot of good in people, or at least the potential for good. I’m very thankful that God has given me an empathetic heart, and Bassem has always had a special place in my heart. Anyway, I remember that in ninth grade, he was assigned to work with another student in class, and they were having some sort of a scuffle and were both too proud to do a class-related activity together that they preferred to be sent to the principal. Stupid. The other night I was talking to Gladys, and I was saying that I was so proud of him because he seems much more mature than he used to and he was up front translating for Pastor Tom. She said that he has changed so much and that one time he reacted in some positive and unexpected way. Pastor Tom asked him, “Bassem, what happened to you? Where did you learn that?” “From you.” Tears just rushed to Pastor Tom’s eyes.
It’s times like that that make up for the illogical student who stands up to give a contradictory diatribe about how the teacher is unfair followed by a standing ovation from the rest of the class. It’s times like that that make up for ESL boys trying to fight, having to be held back by other classmates the one time that we go outside to sing songs and do something different for Bible class.
After study hall in the ad building, I was by the water fountain by one of my eleventh grade students. I felt like I should stay and connect with him just for a second by asking him how he was doing in a tone like I actually wanted to know. He said he was fine and told me that he was so excited when he heard that I was coming back because he had heard from the other students who had had me before that I was a nice and good teacher. That surprised me but made me feel good, especially since this guy and I don’t really connect in class at all. He came to me the next night after punching a wall. So I took care of his hand, and tried to talk to be as understanding as I could. I asked him what he does when he’s angry and some other questions. I asked him if he talks to anybody. He told me that he’s not really close to anyone here. I told him that I would listen if ever he needed someone. And he smiled at me. And I felt his trust.
There’s a girl in ESL here who bothered me at first. She wears smoky eye makeup and in the rare times that she would make eye contact, she would close here eyes halfway like someone next to a bonfire and her head would ever so slightly bobble around. What are you doing? I spent a while trying to figure out if there was something wrong with her or if she was just strange like that. Her English is probably the worst in the entire class. And her shyness and insecurity are obnoxious in that she almost refuses to try to understand English and will ask questions through other people. She didn’t want to say something out loud in Arabic but wanted to speak through a friend. I told her no. While seeing other sick girls in the dorm, I have had the opportunity to connect with her. We don’t talk at all because her English is just as bad as ever (poor thing is about to drown…), but she makes eye contact with me and smiles. She likes me. I love her.
With my juniors and seniors I have been teaching them about confrontation and about self-defeating habits. I taught them how to use I-Statements (I feel…, It hurt me when…, etc.), to not use superlatives (always, never, everyone, all the time, etc), and some other things. One boy told me very frankly that he wasn’t going to use any of this stuff in real life but is just studying to pass the class. I told him that that’s fine because it’s now in his head, and he will benefit greatly from just being aware of it. I worry about this student a lot. He so much trapped inside of him. He’s just a big ball of hurt, and I don’t know what happened, but I want him to be okay. Hopefully God can use me to help him. I feel like the forgiveness part of our class will be incredibly difficult but potentially groundbreaking.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Dessert
Most Egyptian desserts are gross. I said it. Most are sticky and shiny and syrupy. It's just too much for me. Every Sabbath for lunch the cafeteria serves basboosa, which is somewhat like a cake that has been saturated in syrup. I'm not sure it's possible for it to be sweeter than it is. Bethany mentioned one recipe that had syrup that was two cups of sugar and one cup of water. There is also a dessert that was compared to hair when it was first introduced to me. Oh, yes, now I want to eat your dessert. Now that you have compared it to hair. I haven't had that since I've been in Egypt this time, probably because I haven't left the school very much.
I feel like I have permission to rag on Egyptian desserts because they don't seem to like American desserts very well either. Taylor made apple fritters a couple weeks ago. She gave one to Mary, our Egyptian housemate. And when she saw that Mary was leaving to meet up with one of the students (Mina), Taylor gave her another one to bring out to him. She said to tell him that she made it. Then she added, "And if it's bad, Sara made it." I watched out the window for a second to see if I could see Mina's reaction. My eyes aren't very good and he was at least a hundred feet from our villa, so I didn't think I'd be able to see his facial expression. I didn't see his face, but I did see him take a huge step forward and upchuck whatever was in his mouth into the cornfield across the dirt road from our villa. I don't like the word "upchuck," but I couldn't think of another word to describe how fast he did it and how far he projected it. The verdict: I made the apple fritters.
Taylor made shortbread the other night, and two of the students that tried it seemed like they could barely keep it down, and the other one that was at our house was too scared to try it. So I guess things are mutual.
I feel like I have permission to rag on Egyptian desserts because they don't seem to like American desserts very well either. Taylor made apple fritters a couple weeks ago. She gave one to Mary, our Egyptian housemate. And when she saw that Mary was leaving to meet up with one of the students (Mina), Taylor gave her another one to bring out to him. She said to tell him that she made it. Then she added, "And if it's bad, Sara made it." I watched out the window for a second to see if I could see Mina's reaction. My eyes aren't very good and he was at least a hundred feet from our villa, so I didn't think I'd be able to see his facial expression. I didn't see his face, but I did see him take a huge step forward and upchuck whatever was in his mouth into the cornfield across the dirt road from our villa. I don't like the word "upchuck," but I couldn't think of another word to describe how fast he did it and how far he projected it. The verdict: I made the apple fritters.
Taylor made shortbread the other night, and two of the students that tried it seemed like they could barely keep it down, and the other one that was at our house was too scared to try it. So I guess things are mutual.
Love.
I’m thinking of things to do with my 11th and 12th graders for their marriage and family class. We're spending a good chunk of the beginning to help them understand themselves, each other, and how to have functional relationships in general. I was just looking through the EQ and Your Child book that Krista gave me before I came here, and I was going through the section about self-affirmation. In some activities they were supposed to write what they like about themselves, in others, other people affirm them. There was one where they each had a pretty piece of paper with a nice border and they would write their name in the middle. Then everyone in the family was supposed to pass the papers in one direction and write two things that they like about whoever’s paper they had. They would continue until they got their own paper back. And I was thinking about which activities could work and which wouldn’t and maybe I could combine activities, or maybe I should do something else before another one. And all of a sudden my eyes started to sting and I got that feeling like my heart was higher in my chest than normal. And I realized that I just want that for my students so badly. I want them to know just how wonderful they are. Even just a glimpse of God’s love for them could change their lives. No, they’re not perfect. I’m not perfect. But they are so precious to me. And their roots have been combined with their story and their personality and their choices, and… I don’t even know. I am very much in my heart right now. And I feel very thankful that God has given me this deep love for them because sometimes I forget that it’s there. But more importantly, I have a better understanding of His love and why He stays and why He forgives and why He disciplines and why He orchestrates. No two people are the same. Everyone is able to be known and studied and loved deeply.
(Irrelevant side note: I realized then when I speak about things I am passionate about I use less commas and more “ands.” Maybe I don’t want any intentional word to be lost in a list.)
(Irrelevant side note: I realized then when I speak about things I am passionate about I use less commas and more “ands.” Maybe I don’t want any intentional word to be lost in a list.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)