"A Comparison"

     I have started reading a collection of Sylvia Plath's work-- not her poetry, but her essays.  "Dark" poetry has never really been my thing.  However, I am always interested in how authors write about writing.  I am fascinated by the process and like seeing how it compares to what goes on in my mind when I'm writing.  This particular collection, which contains the short story "Johnny Panic" was edited in 1979, more than a decade after Plath's death.  What really caught my eye was the introduction, a short, but telling one, written by Plath's former husband, Ted Hughes.  At first, I read the intro with a sort of cold distance.  I don't know too much about the two poets' marriage, but from what I remember from undergraduate school, Hughes was portrayed as an unfaithful misogynist. 

While reading, it struck me how critically and cooly Hughes wrote of his former wife's work.  That just seemed to confirm for me what a bad person this Hughes guy really was.  However, as he continued, I started to realize that Sylvia Plath was not an easy woman to live with.  She was critical towards family and friends, which stemmed from her insecurities within herself.  She obsessed over her writing, wanting to obtain an unrealistic level of success that allowed no time for a healthy or happy life.  Towards the end of her life, she was too self-involved with depression to even accomplish much with the pen.  And she always thought she was failing, comparing herself with other popular female writers of the time.  It is hard to believe, as I read her beautifully written essays and think, "Why can't I do that?"  I guess we all love to hold ourselves to an unreachable standard.       

Happy Hallowreading!

  
    After shopping for a book for my friends' baby, I have been reminded (again) of my love for children's books.  It is so much more enticing than the shallow-themed, emotionally-driven Young Adult lit on which I, as a secondary English teacher, need to be informed.  Don't get me wrong.  There are a few gems out there (John Greene, Louise Rennison, Walter Dean Myers can put out some good ones that I can handle reading); however, it is those amazing picture books that sparked my imagination as a kid and let me experience things I have never experienced before.  Maybe it's just my nostalgia that makes these books more endearing than, say, Brave New World or The Scarlett Letter (which is still one of my faves).  Or maybe it's just that children's books don't yet touch upon the bleakness that can be found in real, adult life.  I regret that I tend to take pride in my love for the dark, depressing, or even banal.  However, nothing beats the end of The Napping House, when everyone is playing in the sunny, front yard.  Or in Stellaluna, when the little bat is reunited with his family.  Or when the little girl in The Talking Eggs has a struck of good luck.  I do love these books! 

Chipping Away My Pride

  
     Last week I had the privilege of getting to hear Fritz Kling speak.  He has been very involved in global missions and has traveled the world assessing what is needed around the globe and where missions is headed with younger generations.  It was encouraging to hear someone who is so educated in global trends speak truthfully about the pros and cons to my generation of missionaries.  He applauded our passion, particularly for justice and aid, along with our ability to stay connected to what is going on in various parts of the globe.  However, he mentioned that with all of this focus on justice can come an ignorance of the gospel and its power.  He also mentioned how apt we are to hop around from country to country, without dedicating significant time to one particular mission.  After the talk, he remembered another characteristic of our generation-- a need for options.  We feel hesitant to commit to a particular job, because it isn't the "complete package."  Our generation tends to have this romanticized notion of career; it must push us intellectually, must have a good salary with benefits, must allow us to be creative, must have a fun work environment, must change the world...
I could very much relate to all these things he was saying.  He said that when he started attending church as a young adult, you couldn't pick and choose the specific jobs you volunteered for.  If you were on a volunteer list, you were signing yourself up for everything.  I personally belief that people have specific gifts that lend them to work in specific areas, but Fritz has a point about our pickiness.  So what if I don't enjoy working with little kids?  It should be my joy to be helping out the Church, in whatever avenue is open to me.
A lot of these topics are touched upon in his book, The Meeting of the Waters: 7 Global Currents that will Propel the Future Church.  I really recommend it to anyone who has a passion for missions, justice, or international cultures.

     Fritz left us with an analogy that I completely needed to hear.  He spoke about Prague, and how, during the Soviet occupation, the beautiful mosaic and cobblestone streets were covered with cement.  The Communists did this so those in Prague wouldn't think to hope for anything more beautiful in life, so they would be content to walk about daily, in a gray haze of uniformity. As soon as the Soviets left, the Czech people took sledge hammers to the streets, revealing the beautiful designs that once represented their culture. No one knows the names of the individuals who broke up the cement to display the streets-- and it doesn't matter.  What matters is the end result and how people were ultimately affected.
Another daily reminder of how my work in Mundri is not about me.  I am not going around talking to people and trying to form partnerships just so I can be built up as some sort of hero.  I am meeting with people so they, too, can take a sledge hammer and work alongside me to create a positive change in a needy region.

            

Getting into Gear

  
   After a wonderful trip to Budapest, I feel like my summer has officially ended and my season of preparation for South Sudan has officially begun.  I am no longer editing my support letter-- I am sending it out to people.  I am no longer meeting with my church's mission team-- I am actually going out and talking to people.  I am making presentations about what is going on in South Sudan, what I will be doing, and how the church can be involved.  It feels good to be taking steps towards this goal.  I am trying my hardest not to view support raising from a secular perspective.  That would be easy to do, given my past experiences with fundraising.  It is easy to view every relationship and potential conversation as a convenient way to accomplish my goals.  "And why shouldn't I?" I ask myself.  This is something that I am extremely passionate about; teaching in South Sudan is a dream come true for me, and I would like for everyone I know to be a part of the realization of that dream.

But when does it become too much of a focus?  
I know preparing for Mundri should be a focus, and it does require work on my part.  However, with my obsessive tendencies, it can become the only thing on mind.  I don't want to start praying that a hoard of teachers will come down with the flu, but I am in serious need of some part time substitute teaching work.  I need to get into a daily routine of work, so my work with World Harvest Mission involves more daily action, instead of daily obsessions and waiting around.

On the up side, I listened to a lecture from Rose Marie Miller this morning.  Her husband founded WHM, and the two have spent their lives traveling all over the world and housing people in need.  She gave her testimony, spanning decades of her life, and she mentioned how quickly she can forget gospel truths that she had once held so dear.  That was encouraging to hear; I thought I was the only forgetful person who does not take to heart what she hears.  It is good to know that I'm not the only person who needs to be taught the same lessons and reread the same passages over and over again.    

Buda... and Pest!

     In a couple days I will embark on a mini vaycay to Budapest to visit the boyfriend.  We chose to meet in this city almost haphazardly, typing in random cities on expedia and seeing which airfare ended up being the cheapest.  Of course, a trip to Europe is anything but cheap; however, we weren't going to drain our bank accounts by meeting in London or Spain, just because they are more familiar.  Besides, we strive to get away from familiarity when visiting another country.  Budapest will certainly be a new cultural experience for me.  Hungary, Budapest in particular, is a bit of a mutt, taking from Roman, Ottoman, Austrian, Romanian, and Russian culture.  The Hungarian language is a complicated mix of Turkish, Mongolian, and Siberian languages.  To me, it sounds a lot like Turkish.  At the beginning of the twentieth century, Budapest was the center of Bohemia.  Hungarian literature thrived and the new Parliament building was the largest in the world.  It was the first European city to have underground rail systems.  Progress slowed during the middle of the century, due to war and Communist rule.  However, in recent years, Pest has been making a comeback, as more and more art museums and theatres are popping up.  Many abandoned buildings in the predominantly Jewish District VII have been converted into trendy "ruin pubs."  I am excited to see Szimpla Kert, one of the first ruin pubs in Budapest.  I have attached a couple of pictures of the things I am most excited about seeing in the towns of Buda and Pest. 

  

An Education

  
     It is an odd feeling to be sitting in a coffee shop typing at my leisure, while the first day of the school year is currently happening.  I woke up around 6:30, just to use the bathroom, and realized if I had been teaching I would be anxiously waiting in my classroom at that moment.  All of my decorating and lesson planning and encouraging self-talk would be thrown out the window, as it comes down to how I choose to love and interact with my students.  It all comes down to what my expectations are for my students and if I am willing to put up a fight for that standard.  It is a difficult fight-- one that teachers must battle with parents, systems, culture, their students, and even themselves.  To teach, you have to have thick skin-- not necessarily to manage poorly behaved students (which is still my biggest concern) but to keep persisting for your students to achieve and learn the most that you think they are capable of, against all odds.  It is a matter of how much fight you have in you.  Unfortunately, many of us chose this career path unaware of the aggressive undertone in education.  We chose teaching for the subject matter, for the learning, for the romanticized notion of attentive (and only sometimes naughty) children sitting on wooden benches in the town school house who would leave at the bell and go home to have taught facts and mores reiterated by their parents.  Clearly, this isn't the case.
     It is easy to become discouraged by all of the striving and the sense that education is still backsliding.  However, I still have hope that as long as human beings have that curious nature in them, there will be learning and there will be progression.  God has given us minds that need to be stimulated.  This jumped out at me when I was watching The Miracle Worker.  When Helen suddenly makes the connection that the particular movement of her fingers is a symbol for a specific thing, she goes wild.  She runs around touching everything she can get her hands on, eager to know the "name" for everything.  This movie is so good.  It is quite the tear-jerker, and I recommend it to pretty much everyone, from young kids, to adults.
    I'm not going to expect such dramatic results when I teach over in South Sudan.  God will work through me however He pleases to.  However, I am looking forward to doing my part in continuing this fight for learning amidst a broken world.
Scene from The Miracle Worker       

If It Makes You Happy

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about contentment.  It has been preached about at my church, written of in the books I’m reading, and mentioned in conversations I have had with friends.  This influx has made me super-introspective of my own discontent, as well as sensitive to the discontent I notice in the people around me.

My pastor, Erik, mentioned that contentment is easier to find in communities that give and receive more freely.  I completely agree.  Contentment happens when you can accept the grace that has been given to you. When you have been blessed with gifts from those around you in your time of need, you are more willing in the future to give of yourself, your time, and your money.  I would so love to live in a society that gives and receives more easily.  But if these actions don’t refer back to the cross, it is easy for them to lose any permanent meaning and can quickly fall into discontent.  Even in communal living situations, which I deem as the most content and freeing, there is brokenness.  I’ve heard of married couples splitting apart unexpectedly, as one desires something new in their life.  People argue over ideology and can pass judgment.  We are broken people.  I guess we are prone to search for that something to mend us. 

Growing up, I loved the Sheryl Crow song, “If it Makes You Happy.”  The main thing I remember about this song is the music video, in which Sheryl sings at a museum of natural history, among the stuffed foxes and polar bears.  She is wearing what I thought was an uber-cool polyester shirt that I would have spent all of my Christmas ‘96 money on to obtain.  Besides the video, I always thought the refrain rang true.  She says,

            If it makes you happy,

            It can’t be that bad;

            If it makes you happy,

            Why the hell are you so sad.   

Over the years, I’ve had many conversations with friends who have struggled with depression.  I think it is something that everyone can relate to, even if it is on some small level.  Those with depression spend so much time in pursuit of what can make them happy.  “Happy.”  That word is so fleeting.  As great a feeling as it is, I try not to put too much stock in emotions.  Lately, I’ve been working on being content.  Not necessarily happy, but content.  I’m trying not to desperately cling to those temporal things that we associate with happiness.  For me, those things can look like success in relationships, in my job, good finances, a fit body, the enjoyment of a good meal.  With that clinging only comes the uncertain feeling of knowing that these things could easily disappear.  I’ve been working on being content with God’s provision and His plan in my life.  He gives me grace, and it is free each day.  I know that that is all I need.  It is just hard telling that to my emotionally-driven psyche.