The voice of the child

Not so much a child anymore but Mijo suggested the other day that Scott and I should not leave her to her own neither now nor when she is in college.
Every day at LC I have the privilege of working with ESL or ELL ( always changing names) students who come from Korea and Taiwan. They leave home during the 8th grade or sooner to come here to the US. They live with people they do not know, in a language they do not speak well, in a culture completely different ...without family unless it is skype, email or phone calls for 9 months at a time and for some longer. There is a distance from family but a loyalty non-the-less. I understand being away from family having gone to boarding school, what I don't understand is that these young students have lost their connection to their parents and it seems to be not only normal but expected. When I ask what they miss, always friends and food. There are enough Asian students at LC for them to create their own sub-culture and they continue to separate themselves all the while they seek to learn and absorb the English language. I have become their bridge between the worlds as I seem to understand both well enough.
With Mijo and Nick have we created too much of a dependence? Has this American culture elevated the role of parents to a place that we have become too necessary to the growth and independence of our children. I have learned over the years that it is never one or the other...but is there a balance? Scott and I can't be tied to the success of our children, Mijo and Nick have to find their feet and wings. Their feet are getting anchored in solid ground. Nick is entering his teenage years so we will see. Their wings on the other hand...pretty stunted. The Asian students fly well, their grounding though pretty unstable and peer influenced. But, they do forge ahead independently and often rather successfully. Again...there has to be balance in the both. We can't toss the baby out with the bath water...but we should begin tossing the baby out of the nest sooner then at 18 years of age. How's that for mixing idioms?
They are both young, these chicks of ours...but whether I like it or not...They have to learn how to fly!

Not as it appears

I have had this picture on my computer background for about a week now. I change pictures all the time as I do on this blog. This picture has kept my attention for awhile for several reasons;

it seems to be moving, the reflections of the trees surrounding this pond are reflected in the water and every time I look at it there is more to see.
I wish I could tell you that I saw this all when I took the picture. To be honest...I saw the pink flowers and loved the freshness of the color and snapped the picture on an afterthought. But of all the pictures I have taken so far of Papua, this one has stayed on my background the longest. It is very simple...but it goes so much deeper then the pink flowers on the surface.
This week has been a hard one at school. The gloom of the economy is affecting our little corner of the world as I am assuming it is hitting yours. People are being cut from the jobs they need. Tensions are high...understanding is short...comments are harsh...feelings are hurt...reactions are quick. It always amazes me how quickly we forget that we follow Jesus.
Anxiety and fear seems to trump faith not only personally but corporately in the school community.
I think fear and anxiety strips away pretense. Fear reflects whom or what we trust. When what we trust no longer gives us a sense of security we become afraid. On the surface it seems rational to be afraid...but when you look closer fear reflects our faith or lack of faith.
I am so bad at not being afraid...but I only need the faith of a mustard seed and I can move mountains. Maybe mountains the size of the economy. Not that faith is easy...or comfortable...but then if we do not trust God in what we fear, what do we really have faith for?

Some things are just odd

This is a fern...I am sure you knew that but for those who didn't...an odd fern thriving in Papua. The view behind this fern is spectacular...we were driving up to the mine site on this road that follows a ridge of a mountain and the vista is breathtaking. On this day...all we could see is odd ferns growing along side of the road. Because as spectacular as the view can be, the clouds and mist that visit the valleys work as consistently to hide the view. On the only day we were traveling along this road...you guessed it, we saw nothing except odd ferns.

Back to the fern, I would have missed it completely on a good day with the view to compete. I would have rather seen the view. This fern is kind of creepy. I could see it accompany a floral design, with beautiful orchids or other flowers that I don't know the names of. It isn't good on its own. It just stands out...all spindly and awkward and odd. But hey! I took a picture of it and now you are looking at it and we are talking about it just because it was odd, not beautiful or breath taking...just odd.

I have been noticing the odd lately. How Mocha barks at plastic bags with abandon...no reason. How words that are familiar don't seem to register on my tongue. That my ESL students seem to want to talk to me about everything even though they are just learning English. That even though Scott and I have been disconnected he bought me a dozen roses for valentines day. That even in the middle of a frenzy...there is peace. While the world seems bent on its own destruction...the sunrise and sunsets are still beautiful.

Maybe we don't have a good perspective on the spectacular...some clouds have rolled in on our view. There is the odd moment of joy, the overlooked splash of peace on the side of the road we are traveling. Stop a moment...look around, the odd is there for the taking. The serendipitous, the coincident..the moment we stop and see Him in the middle of it all.

The best odd of all.

Going to war in 7th grade

Nick came home yesterday wanting to be home schooled. We have talked often about this because one, I am a teacher and two I don't have that heavy of a schedule and three... it would save money and four, Nick is having a hard time in the 7th grade. You would think going to a private school would lessen the angst of junior high, unfortunately this is sadly not true. The teachers are wonderful not only in their perspective and teaching, it's the rotten kids :). At Nick's chess tournament on Saturday he was told why no one likes him in his class. Love that encouragement! So Nick is a bit of a wounded soldier. Maybe there is some merit in taking him out of the fray, protect him from the semi bad world out there...But ,if I continue to protect him from the ways of this world how will he know how to be in this world while not being of this world?
Nick's pleasure is war. I know that sounds bad, but for all the men and mothers of boys out there, it makes sense. He reads about the wars, watches shows on battles, makes models of the planes and tanks. He is rather well read on the subject and loves more then anything to go to a museum to see old anything of war. On the way to school this morning I asked Nick if he could envision being in JH like being in a battle. He will get shot at, he will have to hunker down...but once in awhile he will overcome and win. I asked him to collect the good and destroy the bad. This resonates with him...but as he was about to get out of the car I said quietly...unfortunately Nick...we have to love our enemies. He looked at me...then I said..maybe for now we can just respect the enemy and treat them with kindness. As a man in today's culture he will have to know how to battle well, fight fair and overcome...maybe JH is a good a place as any to learn. He can always come back to headquarters at the end of the day and get his MRE's and rest for the next foray. ARGH...this is hard on his Comanding Officer, his Company Commander on the other hand is all over the battle plan.

Building Bridges, building walls

My Aunt Gay sent me wonderful pictures of amazing bridges all over the world. This one is in China and crosses a gorge...well, you can see for yourself. I love bridges, figuratively and literally.

In my relationships with people I wonder whether I make bridges or walls. Lately, I think , I have been wall building for reasons I still have to figure out.

I saw a friend of mine not too long ago whom I had not seen ...well, she had not known that I had colored my hair...how long ago was that! This is a really good friend but days and weeks go by before I realize that I haven't called her and she hasn't called me. We are never awkward when we see each other but I think we are baffled that neither of us have taken the initiative to build some bridges . I have many lame-o excuses but the reason I don't build bridges is that I seem to be building walls. I think it is either one or the other for me...intentional about not making connections. WHY is that?

Today is a perfect example. Scott is at drill, Nick is at a chess tournament, and Mijo is at drama practise all day. It is me and the dog. I could call to see if anyone is free to ...whatever, but I am home cleaning, posting, reading, running...solitary endeavors. I am not my daughter who I look at with pleasure as she makes friends, keeps friends and hangs with friends. She amazes me. Since I am her mother...where did she get that dynamic from? I wonder if it is OK for me to not be in need of that dynamic...maybe it isn't either/or , bridge or wall. Building bridges, repairing walls, making the effort to go out, protecting the desire to stay in. I seem to need walls, Mijo needs bridges. I need to make some bridges, she needs to repair some walls. Advance and retreat! I may make some phone calls today !

What we throw away

Nick had to do a plot study for his science class so he went down to the creek and made a six week study on what happened. Over the six weeks, this bike was his object of interest...I wondered...1.what is a bike doing in the creek 2. why is the bike in the creek 3. who would think to throw a bike in the creek 4. why didn't Nick take the bike out of the creek.
Why would someone throw a bike away, it is still valuable.
In Papua ,Ibu Senti, the lady who helped us take care of our house always went through our garbage before she burned it in the fire pit...inevitable she gathered things she could use. I could never guess what she could do with what I threw away but she saw value in my garbage. In college i Chicago we called it dumpster diving...going through the garbage by expensive apartments complexes...we did the same thing. Found what was valuable in what others saw as refuse. I remember at OE last year we left almost everything behind...dirty clothes off our backs that we would never wear again but would be used with enthusiasm by the people of Eipomek.
Disposable people, disposable women...all over the world women are being used up then thrown away... Mijo calls me a feminist...unfortunately that word does not carry positive implications in the conservative world where I live. Maybe I am...but maybe I need to define what that means to me. Semantics is key to understanding intentions. Being a feminist is knowing that God created women in His image ..Male and Female He created them...I think many men have forgotten that stamped all over women is the same image of God stamped all over them.
Women's place is in the home...why wouldn't it be a mans place as well? She is not less to be at home, but why would it be less for a man to be? Women can't be a preacher...why? If Jesus is head of the church are we all not under His authority nor matter what role/gift we use in the body? These are just two areas that I see the value of women and men being undermined by what we think is valuable.

It's the bike in the creek all over again...we can't continue to throw away what is valuable, not here, not there, not anywhere!