I wish you could meet my kids. Guess that sounds strange in a way for a single person to be saying. One of my third graders asked me the other month if I had kids. I told her I had 55. She looked at me rather agog, mouth and eyes both wide open, and said "55 kids?!". I calmly responded "Yeah, third grade, fourth grade and fifth grade". She thought this over for a few seconds and then said "So, we're your kids?" "Yes, you are", I replied.
I really do feel like my students are my kids. And rather than contradicting this feeling, my kids only feed it. They regularly call me Mami (mommy in Spanish) in class, always correcting themselves and laughing about it afterwards. I even got called Grandma the other week. I won't incriminate anyone on that one... :) They don't wake me up in the middle of the night complaining of hurting tummies or bad dreams, but they do enter my dreams in the middle of the night and they keep me burning the midnight oil sometimes to get everything done on time. They don't clamor at my shoulder for me to come play with them after school and lunch are done, but I do end up working for them during that time. They don't ask me for money, but I do spend it without them knowing. They give me hugs and tell me they don't want me to leave. I give them hugs back and tell them I'm not leaving for a while yet. They tell me they love me. I tell them the same.
My kids make me laugh. Like the other week when Dany was conducting an orchestra in the middle of singing a song in class. His whole little heart was into it and it made me laugh so hard that I couldn't keep singing and the entire class was wondering what was wrong with their teacher! Or the times that they say or do something funny that just makes my day.
My kids make me frustrated. Like when they don't know a word that I'm sure they should know because they've heard it a ton of times. Or when they don't pay attention in class. Or when they are talking during class and I have to keep talking to them.
My kids bless me. Like when they write on their homework "I love you Miss Bethany" or when they come up and give me hugs as I come into the room. Or when they get excited to see me. Or like the other day when I was having a private counseling conversation with Magna during recess and Mabelin made sure we were done before she left the other 5th graders enter the room.
My kids also make me want to cry sometimes. I am not one who cries easily whatsoever. But they make me want to. My heart breaks for Magna and her family situation, for the horribly mean things her dad says to her, for the stress she's under at home because of her dad's affair, for the fact that her little life only has peace when her dad's away. I feel like I know her situation best because she actually talks to me about it. But there's also Alejandra, whose family is also in turmoil right now. And Leo. And Medli. And Ibet, who lives with her dad and misses her mom. And all the others whose problems I don't know about or only have inklings of.
The other day, because of an unexpected emergency, I taught third grade's Bible class on the story of Ruth. We'd just gotten done talking in the teachers' meeting about some of the situations in the school, so that was on my mind. It occurred to me as I thought about the story that it could apply. So as I dramatized the story for them, I emphasized the fact that God never left Naomi alone. The family had problems. Naomi had problems. But God was always with her in that and never left her without someone to comfort her and someone to be with her and provide for her. In Naomi's case, that was Ruth. In the cases of my kids, who knows who that is. But I've been very thankful the last few days that God is an omnipresent God who can help my kids in all their problems and be with them always. Their parents might be fighting. They might be seeing abuse before their very eyes. Their family might be separated. They might have other problems. But God is with them. He is there to hold them and to never ever ever let them go.
So, in answer to my third grader's question, yes I have kids. 55 to be exact. Having 55 kids is a challenge. It's tough, but I love it. It's frustrating, but it's so rewarding. Sometimes I feel a bit like Old Mother Hubbard. Sometimes I feel like the queen of the world. Sometimes I want to ream out parents. Sometimes I want to ream out myself for not being more like Jesus for my kids. I want to be able to love them all unconditionally, no matter how they respond to me in class or what nasty habits they have. I'm finding I need to work on that part some more. They drive me nuts. They drive me to laughter. And they drive me to Jesus and to realize more about my own self.
I have 55 kids. And I wouldn't trade where I am for the world.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thou shalt have no other gods...
Recently, there have been two instances when I have been made keenly aware again of the idolatry that runs rampant here in Cusco. Thanks to the influences of both Incan Native American beliefs and Catholicism, religion in Cusco is a nice syncretistic thing involving, among other things, witch doctors, reading coca leaves, adoration of saints, and making burnt offerings to the Mother Earth. At this time of the year, there are two festivals: Holy Week and the Velada de la Cruz. Holy Week begins in Cusco with the procession of the patron saint of Cusco, Señor de los Temblores (Lord of the Earthquakes). 
I'm a little unclear on the exact beginnings of this particular image, but it was somehow involved in supposedly stopping an earthquake or it wasn't damaged in said earthquake or something. So now it is revered as the patron saint of Cusco. Its home is in the cathedral of Cusco, where it resides for about 363 days of the year. The Monday of Holy Week (the week before Easter), it comes out and gets paraded around the city. It ends up back at the Plaza de Armas (the main plaza of the city where the cathedral is located. The last 500 yards of its journey are surely the most difficult. The plaza is packed with thousands of people wanting to touch the statue and receive blessings from it. Many eager hands clamor to touch it and the path of those carrying it is strewn with flower petals. After crawling its way through the crowd, it is then returned to its home in the cathedral, behind golden doors, on top of an altar adorned by flowers, flanked by Mary and Joseph on either side. Recently, I had the opportunity to go into the cathedral for a concert. I took a picture of the Señor de los Temblores, to share on here at an opportune moment. Looking at the Señor de los Temblores, the verse in the Bible that talks about being able to freely approach the throne of grace came to mind. Here is the patron saint of Cusco, locked up in a church building behind a grated, golden door, at the top of a massive altar, so far away no one can possibly touch it. Even taking a picture of it is not necessarily permitted (shhh....don't tell anyone!). In front of the golden doors that form one wall of the home for this saint are candles ready to be lit as part of petitions. There are also wooden boxes to collect alms for the Señor de los Temblores. In the middle of the aisle along which he rests is a kneeling bench for people to come and pray to the Señor de los Temblores about whatever they want. The night I was at the cathedral, there were a surprisingly large number of people who utilized this bench. It all is very sad to me. During Easter week at school, I was talking with my kids about Easter. In third grade, we got to talking about the Señor de los Temblores. I asked my kids "Does he have ears?" No. "Does he have eyes?" No. "Does he have a brain?" No. "Does he have a heart and lungs?" No. "Do you think he can really hear you?" No. I found it interesting, standing there observing during the concert, watching people kneel before the image to pray, that children get what adults do not. Good Friday in Cusco is actually, in some ways, more celebrated than Sunday itself. People go to mass and the faces of the saints are covered. Supposedly, since Jesus is now dead, the saints are as well and people can basically do what they want. In Lucre, a village close to my church in Huacarpay, where the Mennonite church also has a building and where about 15 of our students at PROMESA come from, there is a procession of priests carrying saints to various places and then returning them to the church again. The whole week is full of idolatry and many excuses for drunkenness (as if any were needed).
Last week, I went out for my weekly pilgrimage to Huacarpay. When I arrived, I was informed that I had come in the middle of Velada de la Cruz, a festival that worships the cross - not Jesus, not what He did on the cross, not what the cross means, just the cross. We heard fireworks as we were preparing the songs for worship the next morning. At one point, Rene said "Run to the door and you'll see a procession of people carrying a cross down the street." Sure enough, she was right. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera (bad timing!) to capture any pictures, but I saw at least two such processions throughout the weekend. Right next to the pastor's family's house, where I sleep on Saturday nights, is a shrine where there was much cross-worshipping happening all night. Fortunately for me, the room where I stay with Lisi and Abigail, the pastor's two daughters is the farthest away from the shrine. Add that to perpetual tiredness and I slept like a log all night, not hearing anything. Ines, the pastor's wife, however, assured me the next morning that, yes, the music and partying went on all night. Walking to my friend Juana's house with her and her sisters after church the next day, I saw another makeshift shrine to the cross set up along the side of the street. Under a dark green tent, a cross sat. In front of the cross were racks of candles, some lit, some not. I did notice, however, that more were lit when I was leaving than when I was coming. Or so it seemed. This festival apparently lasts for 3 days every year.
These two instances lately have reminded me of the idolatry that surrounds me here and the lostness of the people of Cusco. There are many more things I could add, but I'll leave it at that. Please join me in prayer for God's light to dawn on Cusco and drive away the ever-present darkness of sin, to bring God's freedom and saving grace to this needy land.
I'm a little unclear on the exact beginnings of this particular image, but it was somehow involved in supposedly stopping an earthquake or it wasn't damaged in said earthquake or something. So now it is revered as the patron saint of Cusco. Its home is in the cathedral of Cusco, where it resides for about 363 days of the year. The Monday of Holy Week (the week before Easter), it comes out and gets paraded around the city. It ends up back at the Plaza de Armas (the main plaza of the city where the cathedral is located. The last 500 yards of its journey are surely the most difficult. The plaza is packed with thousands of people wanting to touch the statue and receive blessings from it. Many eager hands clamor to touch it and the path of those carrying it is strewn with flower petals. After crawling its way through the crowd, it is then returned to its home in the cathedral, behind golden doors, on top of an altar adorned by flowers, flanked by Mary and Joseph on either side. Recently, I had the opportunity to go into the cathedral for a concert. I took a picture of the Señor de los Temblores, to share on here at an opportune moment. Looking at the Señor de los Temblores, the verse in the Bible that talks about being able to freely approach the throne of grace came to mind. Here is the patron saint of Cusco, locked up in a church building behind a grated, golden door, at the top of a massive altar, so far away no one can possibly touch it. Even taking a picture of it is not necessarily permitted (shhh....don't tell anyone!). In front of the golden doors that form one wall of the home for this saint are candles ready to be lit as part of petitions. There are also wooden boxes to collect alms for the Señor de los Temblores. In the middle of the aisle along which he rests is a kneeling bench for people to come and pray to the Señor de los Temblores about whatever they want. The night I was at the cathedral, there were a surprisingly large number of people who utilized this bench. It all is very sad to me. During Easter week at school, I was talking with my kids about Easter. In third grade, we got to talking about the Señor de los Temblores. I asked my kids "Does he have ears?" No. "Does he have eyes?" No. "Does he have a brain?" No. "Does he have a heart and lungs?" No. "Do you think he can really hear you?" No. I found it interesting, standing there observing during the concert, watching people kneel before the image to pray, that children get what adults do not. Good Friday in Cusco is actually, in some ways, more celebrated than Sunday itself. People go to mass and the faces of the saints are covered. Supposedly, since Jesus is now dead, the saints are as well and people can basically do what they want. In Lucre, a village close to my church in Huacarpay, where the Mennonite church also has a building and where about 15 of our students at PROMESA come from, there is a procession of priests carrying saints to various places and then returning them to the church again. The whole week is full of idolatry and many excuses for drunkenness (as if any were needed).Last week, I went out for my weekly pilgrimage to Huacarpay. When I arrived, I was informed that I had come in the middle of Velada de la Cruz, a festival that worships the cross - not Jesus, not what He did on the cross, not what the cross means, just the cross. We heard fireworks as we were preparing the songs for worship the next morning. At one point, Rene said "Run to the door and you'll see a procession of people carrying a cross down the street." Sure enough, she was right. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera (bad timing!) to capture any pictures, but I saw at least two such processions throughout the weekend. Right next to the pastor's family's house, where I sleep on Saturday nights, is a shrine where there was much cross-worshipping happening all night. Fortunately for me, the room where I stay with Lisi and Abigail, the pastor's two daughters is the farthest away from the shrine. Add that to perpetual tiredness and I slept like a log all night, not hearing anything. Ines, the pastor's wife, however, assured me the next morning that, yes, the music and partying went on all night. Walking to my friend Juana's house with her and her sisters after church the next day, I saw another makeshift shrine to the cross set up along the side of the street. Under a dark green tent, a cross sat. In front of the cross were racks of candles, some lit, some not. I did notice, however, that more were lit when I was leaving than when I was coming. Or so it seemed. This festival apparently lasts for 3 days every year.
These two instances lately have reminded me of the idolatry that surrounds me here and the lostness of the people of Cusco. There are many more things I could add, but I'll leave it at that. Please join me in prayer for God's light to dawn on Cusco and drive away the ever-present darkness of sin, to bring God's freedom and saving grace to this needy land.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Never a Dull Moment...
I had a funny experience today in third grade. Walking into the room for English class right after recess and snack, the first thing I saw was Winny with a container containing lettuce and cucumbers sitting beside her. Presumably her snack. THEN I saw the two big snails on top of the lettuce. I connected the snails with the salad and thought "What in the world? Did she really find those snails while she was eating her salad? How did her mom miss that one?" So I asked her. "Winny, were those snails in your salad?" She explained that the science teacher asked them to bring in animals for their science class today. I told her what I had thought and we both laughed. I must admit to feeling relieved.
The class eagerly informed me (and showed me) that besides Winny's snails, there was Hefzi-Ba's fish and Sebastian's cat (yes, a real live cat that stayed in his desk until it distracted him, at which point he put it in his backpack and fed it crackers because it was hungry...I am not making this up!). Earlier Franco's dog visited the class too.
Then, as we were beginning class, I happened to see Hefzi-Ba with her mouth on a straw. The other end was in the bottle serving as the temporary home of her very frightened fish. Again, in the instant thoughts of a teacher, my brain connected the two and I blurted out, "Hefzi-Ba, are you drinking your fish water?!" She looked at me like "Are you crazy?" and said, "No, I'm giving him oxygen". At which point I said okay, again very relieved.
And then as we were reading our monthly Bible verse, my brain wandered to these two incidents and I had to control myself to keep from laughing in the middle of the verse. Instead, I waited till the end to burst out laughing and recount the two incidents to the entire class, who laughed right along with me.
Oh what a day...call me Noah.
The class eagerly informed me (and showed me) that besides Winny's snails, there was Hefzi-Ba's fish and Sebastian's cat (yes, a real live cat that stayed in his desk until it distracted him, at which point he put it in his backpack and fed it crackers because it was hungry...I am not making this up!). Earlier Franco's dog visited the class too.
Then, as we were beginning class, I happened to see Hefzi-Ba with her mouth on a straw. The other end was in the bottle serving as the temporary home of her very frightened fish. Again, in the instant thoughts of a teacher, my brain connected the two and I blurted out, "Hefzi-Ba, are you drinking your fish water?!" She looked at me like "Are you crazy?" and said, "No, I'm giving him oxygen". At which point I said okay, again very relieved.
And then as we were reading our monthly Bible verse, my brain wandered to these two incidents and I had to control myself to keep from laughing in the middle of the verse. Instead, I waited till the end to burst out laughing and recount the two incidents to the entire class, who laughed right along with me.
Oh what a day...call me Noah.
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