About This New Job...

I really do like my job. It's fun and typically, I work with some fun customers. I have awesome coworkers and a cool boss and it's a fun work environment.

I worked a split shift yesterday, of which the first part started at 9 and ended at 1. This shift was awesome. I didn't get stuck at a computer doing training and got to do some work with the cash  register. Because it was a much more complicated interface and system than the simple cash register at Java Hut, I was a little slower and didn't do extremely well with everything and was kind of slow with getting change, because I didn't know where the drawer was or how to open it. The people were really understanding and seemed to get that I was new and were extremely patient. I did some tech support over the phone (for example, a lady called and asked what the difference between an HP and a PC was. When I explained that HP was a brand and PC was a computer, she explained that she had a Dell, and was that an HP? Um, no, that would be a Dell.) I made some comission, which was awesome, and I really enjoyed myself and couldn't wait to get back to work after my first shift ended.

The second shift was a nightmare. I walked in and there were three disgruntled customers already. One man was upset because he wanted a refund on a check. It's basic policy that once a check has gone into the bank, such as this one had, you have to wait fourteen days for it to process and then can receive a refund. There isn't much a store can do about this. This guy could not accept the fact, and after causing a scene and yelling about how we apparently needed to bend over backwards and make the check appear out of thin air, he stormed out of the store after giving us his address, swearing that he would never go to a Radio Shack again, and that he would tell others about our poor service. While this was going on, and getting me extremely flustered, there was another man who needed to speak to our manager about a return. I hadn't been trained in returns yet, and so I, observing that Stephen was busy with a customer and that Cayla was dealing with Mr.Give-Me-My-Check-Now, told him that I would speak to our manager, that he would be out as soon as possible, and apologized for the delay and my lack of knowledge on how to fix the situation. He was very gracious, and seemed happy just to have a straight answer from someone.

Unfortunately, another customer seemed to have heard me tell this gentleman that I was training, and decided that it was time to put me through my own personal h-e-doublehockeysticks. We have Sirius and XM radios playing in the store, and she asked me what genre was playing, because I was standing behind the counter, admittedly not doing much, because I came in in the middle of a crisis and wasn't sure what to do. Thinking that this was a valid customer concern, I proceeded to walk over to the Sirius radio to check what station it was on and give her an answer. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to do this.

"No," she said, "You should know this without looking."

Excuse me? My job isn't to know your music on demand. I'm supposed to sell you robotics parts, GPS, and perhaps set you up with a new cell phone. But alas, this was not enough for this lady. So, I attempted to guess.

"Jazz?"

At this point she threw her hands in the air and goes, "No! It's Big Band! I swear, under the age of 40, they don't know anything!"

Thinking that maybe this was an attempt at some humor, I told her, "Well, you see, I'm more of a classical music and art person, so I'll admit that my knowledge of specific genres is rusty." She rolled her eyes at me and walked away. She then asked one of the guys I work with about a foldable computer fan that had been advertised. He directed her, and rather that asking him about a second product, she turns to me and says, "I need a USB plug in that connects me to the internet."

"Could you give me some more details about what you need? Is it an aircard?"

"No, it's not an aircard, because it doesn't come with its own phone line. Probably more of a WiFi card?"

I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I told her that I wasn't exactly sure where to find something and that maybe one of the other associates could help me help her when they were done. "Like I said, Ma'am, it's my second day, and I don't want to get you the wrong thing."

Apparently, my attempt at a good gesture was for naught. Exasperated, the woman once again snaps at me, "Well, okay then, don't just stand there! Go ask your manager!"

So, I went to the back to talk to my manager about this disasterous situation. "Ed, we have a guy out there who needs to do returns and a woman who needs a product that I can't locate." At this point, Cayla came in to tell him that Check-Man was starting to get escalatingly angry and that she needed someone in charge to explain the 14-day policy. So, I had to wait in line, as this guy took precedence due to his stinky, nasty attitude, and there wasn't much I could do. Cayla and my boss were working on Check-Man, Stephen was attempting to help the guy with his return, and this woman looked at me as if she were going to bore holes into my soul and send me straight to the bad place. I wait patiently for the guy with the check to storm out, and then Ed had to help the guy with the return, because he was in line first, that big jerk. At this point, because I'm still not "doing anything", the lady slams her prior selection on the counter, throws her hands in the air, and angrily says, "I guess I'll have to come back another time!"

I was about ready to scream and cry because of this woman and her apparent need for a WiFi connector NOW, and so later I had a discussion with my boss about what had happened. Apparently, this woman had come in early in the week, asked about a discount, and when he had refused to give it to her, she hit him upside the head with a box. Seems like a real treat, doesn't she?

The rest of the shift went on without incident until we closed at 9. I was on the schedule until 9:30 so that we could switch signs over and put Black Friday price tags on stuff. This was a pain, because it involved new displays and everything. Instead of the estimated 9:30-10:00 clock out, we got out of there at 11:45. Awesome.

Despite all of this, I refuse to complain about my job. It's still something I like to do and, hey, it's a job. I'm thankful I have it. I just hope that tomorrow doesn't kill me.

Working Girl

I am now bringing home a paycheck.

Actually, no, I'm not. I'm bringing home a direct deposit. But the point is that I'm earning minimum wage and comission for the remainder of the holiday season. Huzzah! I start tonight at Radio Shack in about an hour, actually, and am working all of four hours. Tomorrow, again, four hours. Black Friday is going to absolutely murder me. It will beat me down and mop the floor with me. Fail. But, at the same time, win. Because the collective 11-hour split shift comes down to one thing that I haven't been able to bring home in a long time.

Money. And discounts. HallelujahthankyouLord.

The interview was one of the most rediculously easy things on earth. Do you have a criminal record? Do you know at least 80% of what there is to know about a laptop or a cell phone? No and yes? Okay, then you're hired. Apparently, "that was easy" isn't only the slogan of Staples.

Hopefully, now that I have some intereaction outside of the house, I'll be able to actually blog once in a while with something interesting.

Cardboard Testimonies

I know that I have been bad with the blogging as of late. Tonight is going to be no different. But I would like to share this video with you from church tonight. 


As part of the Thanksgiving season, Sis.Andrea asked some of us to write down our testimonies on a piece of cardboard and share them with the church. It's really amazing to see where God has brought some people from, myself included. Hopefully, this will touch you and/or make you cry. As you can see, I certainly cried when I was a part of it. Please enjoy this and leave me some feedback.

Breaking Through

I need to come clean about something. I have a very hard time finding a medium between being too nice and holding a grudge. It's really hard to know when enough is enough, and I have had a problem with this for a long time.
In my life, I have had one person who has hurt me many, many times. I've known her for years and there have been conflicts since we were very young. It's been a cycle. But I have this overwhelming guilt every time that I attempt to cut the individual out, it's followed by a wave of guilt, because I hate when people are mad at me and I hate the feeling of being mad at people. So, I usually come crawling back, repair the friendship, and it continues. I get hurt again, I get angry because I've been hurt, and over time, this cycle made me extremely bitter. Within the past year, this cycle repeated itself, and I was hurt so badly, that I cut off contact and didn't bother to even attempt to repair the relationship. It wasn't worth the pain and problems that stemmed from this relationship. I just couldn't do it again.

Tonight was a great service. God's spirit moved and his presence was evident. I have had several things that have bothered me recently, and I needed to breakthrough. I prayed with my friends and felt refreshed in the Spirit, but something was missing. And then this scripture kept running through my head.

“This is how I want you to conduct yourself in these matters. If you enter your place of worship and, about to make an offering, you suddenly remember a grudge a friend has against you, abandon your offering, leave immediately, go to this friend and make things right. Then and only then, come back and work things out with God."

Matthew 5:23-24 (The Message Translation)

Then I saw her sitting there. Head in her hands, obviously trying to get through to God. Just like I was. There's not much I could do. I don't know what's going on in her life right now. We haven't talked in months and I don't know what's going on. I can't tell her that everything is going to be okay. I can't be there for her every step of the way. That bridge will probably never be mended and that friendship may never be what it once was. But I'm not going to let that stop me from sitting and praying with a girl who is, like me, trying to break through.

My Biblical Hero

In the past few months, I have discovered that I have a favorite Biblical character. I've always had people that I liked to read about but if someone were to come up to me and say, "Hey, who's your favorite?", I probably would have had to think about it.

Most people, if you ask them, will say David or one of the Apostles. Some of them will pull the "well, duh" approach and say Jesus, which not to say that Jesus isn't awesome, but I think we all can understand that when that question is asked, you're looking aside from the obvious answer of Jesus. Or you'll get Moses or Noah, maybe if you're on the feminist side (like me) you'll get big names like Esther or Mary.

I have fallen in love with a guy that is seldom mentioned, maybe a few times in the New Testament, but has a depth that few can understand. He's popped up in my life on four occasions in the past six months, whenever I'm feeling discouraged.

John Mark.

For those of you not familiar with John Mark, let me give you the abbreviated version. John Mark was the Biblical days version of an AIM worker. He went along with Paul on a missions trip. But he was young and he got homesick and left. Paul felt that he was a failure and wanted nothing to do with him. John Mark did fail. He didn't complete his commitment to help serve the mission to which he was appointed. Several years later, Paul ended up asking specifically for John Mark, saying that he was good for his ministry. There was a second chance; a chance to redeem himself for what he had given up on before.

In case you didn't catch on, I think I love John Mark because there has been pretty much nobody for me to turn to when the waves of pain and twinges of failure hit me. It doesn't happen as often anymore, but every once in a while, I'll start hating myself. Hating that I had to leave. Hating that I'm hearing good things that are going on in Paraguay. And not so good things. And I'm not there to have any part in it. I recently found out that there was a minor crisis with the missionaries about a week after I left. I haven't decided if God knew that I wouldn't have been able to help or handle any of it, or if I royally screwed  up and left when I was needed most. There's probably truth to both sides of this. I have friends who have been on the AIM field, but they all completed their terms and came home. I didn't. I have nobody to relate to.

But then, when all hope seems lost, John Mark gets brought up. When I was in Paraguay, my mom told me the story. Right after I found out I was coming home, Debora brought him up to me. He was preached about during my last Sunday there. And the pastor mentioned him on Sunday night. There have probably been other times somewhere in there that I forgot. I have worn out those parts of my Bible, because finally, I have someone who understands. I can't go over and chat him up, but it's helpful to know that someone went through this and survived. Not only did he survive, but he finished later.

God understands all. When I get to heaven, I can't wait to see God, because, well, he's God. But honestly, I'd like to think that when I get there I'll get to kick it with John Mark for a while, too. I think we'd have some awesome stories to swap.

Back to School and a Special Effort

Today, after unintentionally putting it off since the first week that school was in session, I finally made it back to the high school to go see Senora Tuel. I had brought her back a souvenier from Paraguay and had been meaning to go back and visit her ever since I went to the school when I got back and all of my teachers that I wanted to see (including her husband) were there except for her. So we talked about Paraguay and my other Spanish teacher ended up coming in and acting all nice, prompting me to really want to go, "Dude, you hated me. Don't lie." But I bit my tongue. I've done that a lot over the past few days. Don't even get me started. But anyway, it was awesome to get to see my favorite teacher of all time, who pretty much believes I can do anything. She asked me if my Spanish got better and how everything went, because she knew how scared I was about not being able to talk to people. When I told her I made friends who didn't speak any English, she replied with, "See, I always knew you could do it." It's pretty cool to have someone who believes in you like that.

She then suggested that because today was the day of the book club meeting (which I was in while I was in high school), I should drop in. So, I did. There were brownies and we talked about grammar. It was heavenly.

Because I am an unemployed loser, who places of potential work won't even call back, I am attempting to find projects to occupy my time. Right now, I'm attempting to get approval from the youth leaders and pastor to organize a youth-led service. Our youth group has this thing (which I'm pretty sure is prevelent in all youth groups) where we want to get together, but usually it's only to do pizza or Magic Mountain or something. We want youth services, but we expect other people to do everything and organize them for us. So, what I'm trying to put together is a service that is led completely by members of the youth group. Music, preaching, offering and announcements, everything. I'm really hoping I can get it all together and approved. I think it would be amazing and would bring our youth group together.

In the meantime, I'm making plans for a trip to St.Louis for Preview Weekend on November 12-14. I'm also planning on staying an extra day and going to O'Fallon, MO to go to the church I'm planning on attending while I'm at Gateway. I'm really excited about the whole thing.

I Am The Best Aunt (And Other Stuff, Too)

I have poor restraint.

For those of you who don't know, and I'm just too lazy to go back and see if I've mentioned it on here before, my aunt and uncle are adopting a little girl from India, named Kenlie. My aunt likes froo-froo things and pink and ruffles and sparklies and all of that girlie stuff, so my mom and I went to the store to get said sparkly, ruffly, pink, froo-froo baby things for Kenlie. While I was looking for the perfect gift for my new cousin, I came across something. I was trying to be good. I had been doing so well. I promised I wouldn't spend money on baby things for my niece/nephew until I knew if it was a niece or a nephew. Or at least for a month. But alas, I could not restrain anymore. And now, my NinjaNiece/Nephew has the following because of his/her favorite aunt's lack of restraint:

Which I happen to think is amazing.It ended up leading into a strongly worded discussion between Cerri and I as to who would be the better aunt. I pwned. For those of you not versed in contemporary language, I won. Multiple times.

********************

This weekend was extremely full. Friday night was Pinchlet's going away party, where my OCD was unleashed upon the snack table.

This table was organized, reorganized, and organized again many, many times until it met my high standards of almost-symmetry. And then the picture was thrown off by the stupid chair on one side. Boo!

And then the mandatory party pictures were taken of everyone and their brother with the recipient of the party and the cake. Including myself. And I am not a creeper.

Ok, maybe a little.

And then group hugs were exchanged and we let her go.  But not without a fight, as Dorenda and I chased after her car.

***********

But alas, we had to move on after Pinchlet left. So we did the annual hayride and hog roast thing. 

I don't really get why we even call it a hog roast anymore. The origins of this annual tradition go way, way back. The first place I remember having it (although I have heard that this isn't actually the first place) at The Spanish Leprechaun's parents' house. And then we migrated to another family's house. And now we have had it at the church for the past two years. But we don't roast hogs anymore. Which takes a great deal of the fun out of it, as well as the relevance of the name. This fails, or rather, phails. (Don't ask.)

We still do the hayride thing though.

The scary person in the front is Cerri. She is not posessed. Although sometimes I have my doubts.

And we have since added a bouncy thing!

*********

After we gorged ourselves on non-hog, we did the only logical thing.

We went and ate Mexican.

There was also a belated birthday sombrero involved.

Stick This In Your Nobel Peace Prize....

And smoke it, Mr.President.

"I'm Going to Have Twins and Name Them Petri and Pinchlet"- (AKA- Pinchlet and Petri: A Memoir in Gibberish)

This is one of my best friends. You may see her referred to on here as Rachel, Rachol, or Pinchlet, among other names. She looks slightly high in this picture, but it's one of the few we have where someone isn't sticking their tongue out, giving bunny ears, picking their nose intentionally, etc. You get the picture. We have the kind of friendship that people wish they understood, but at the same time are afraid to get a glimpse into the inner workings of our brains. Because we are positively, ridiculously insane.

See?

Last year in August, she pulled a stunt where she went off to college and didn't come back until November. I scorned her for this. And then she came back. And now she's moving off to Connecticut. Because she's sucky like that.

The crappy thing about being a grown-up is that you no longer have that assurance that those people are going to be around to play in the sandbox with. You have to part ways with people that you've spent a good part of your life with and move on and get your own life in your own place and see these people at Christmas and Easter and maybe the occasional wedding and funeral. It's no fun, but it's life.

The following is not for you to understand. But rather you can laugh and pretend that you get it. And she can laugh because she gets it.

Dear Pinchletene Suzanna,

I don't think it's possible for me to say sappy stuff to you without laughing hysterically, because most of what we say is sappily ironic and/or incoherent. I do not want you to leave me here with Abe on my own, but that is what you must do. Go forth and conquer the Connecticutionians. Because that's what I feel like calling them. And be warned that that is my new vacation spot and I will come and mooch off of you. But I'm sure you already knew that. Please know that I will never forget the times that we spent kissing the goat and the giant balloon with the reliving of the birth experience. Walter is watching you and the moose completes me.

Kisses and Winks,

Petrithin

Chillens, College, and Computers (And other frightening things)

Chillens: A ghetto term that is the equivalent of the word children 


You must read  this. Because it brings me great joy. Lots and lots of it. Like, you can't imagine. Unless you were at my church on Sunday night and saw me and Cerri scream. Then you may have a little, tiny bit of an idea.

College


I am so ready to go to college. I don't know why, but I've just been extremely psyched about heading off to Gateway this week. I'm ready to go and three months seems like forever right now. I can't wait to go and get started. My application went out (after many tries and delays) today, my recommendations are in the mail, and my pastoral reference went out about a week after I got back from Paraguay. All there is to do now is to wait  for an acceptance letter.

Computers

My computer makes me want to cry and/or scream right now. About a week ago, the thing turned itself off and didn't come back on for three days. Once it turned on, it froze up. Not it freezes up after about a half an hour of being on. I don't know what the deal is. I've run virus scans and the works, and what the guess is is that the fan is shot. I'm not pleased about this. Not at all.

To make this worse, the other day I opened the laptop, which had been off all day, to see that the "p" key was missing. Just randomly. The computer was shut and off all day. Weirdness.

Cars; Driving, Nearly Wrecking, and Being Banned by Friends from Driving of.

This is me on the day I got my permit. See how happy and carefree I look? No worries. Oblivious to the fact that I am in sole control of a large van. Tralalala....look at me. I'm driving a car.

This was before "the incident".

I have driven since then, several times. I drove on country roads.I drove to Coldstone. I drove to WalMart. I drove here and there and everywhere. And so finally, my friends decide that I can make "the step".

"Becky, we're going to let you drive us to Mansfield."

EEEEEEEEEE! (Squeal of joy)

I drove well. I showed that road who was boss. I made turns and did not land in a ditch. I didn't run into other cars. Sure a few people passed me along the way and sure I was driving ten miles under the speed limit while people yelled kind words like "idiot", and waved politely while showing me the international finger of friendship. Good folks all around. But I made it unscathed. I even pulled successfully into a WingStreet so we could have a delicious lunch of Pizza Hut buffet. And I pulled out of the parking lot without dying. Huzzah!

Enter the aneurysm.

Tralala, look at me. I'm driving in Mansfield. Hey, that's a red light. Hey, I didn't put on the brakes hard enough. Well, what do you know, we're in the middle of an intersection. Hey- WHY THE HECK IS THAT CAR COMING TOWARDS ME?!

Needless to say, I was slightly shaken up after this. And forced my friend to drive the rest of the way. And now I am no longer able to drive.

My Birthday and Other Things

I'm sorry that my first post back was such a downer. I haven't had a lot to say lately, but although I wasn't incredibly close to Gabby, I felt like I should say something. It seems unreal to me. She's just always been there at camp. She was always in the same dorm as me at camp and always worked at concessions. It just seems so unfair to me that such a young life was lost. The silver lining to all of this, if you can really call it that, is that she saved eight lives when hers was lost through being an organ donor. That's just like her. Always giving, even at the end of her life. She was a sweet girl and will be greatly missed.

Not a lot has been going on lately; nothing that I've wanted to write anyway. I've filled out so many job applications, it's not even funny. Not a single call back in regards to an interview, since the one at the temp agency about a month ago. I got a call from a local bank asking me to submit more information (i.e. my stupid resume that failed to attach) and they told me that they would call me back, but I haven't heard a thing. I've even done the one thing I said I would never do, and put in an application at fast food places. Taco Bell and Burger King were the only two that I could bring myself to put in applications for. I've done a form of food service before, and didn't like it much. I've also put in applications at Tim Horton's, JC Penney, Wal-Mart (and you'll be happy to know that I passed their employee-customer relations test when I submitted the application), Bob Evan's, and Staples. If I had my pick, I'd be at Staples. But alas, no call whatsoever. FAIL.

Today (yesterday in all technicality) was my birthday. I turned nineteen (sweet Lord, I'm getting old) and feel no different than I did at eighteen. What a disappointment. I celebrated this momentous-ish occasion by going to Easton Town Center in Columbus and spending my parents' money. On sheet music. The Broadway kind.

And I shall play and ears shall bleed because I did not practice all summer. Be glad you are not in this house while the notes to "Defying Gravity" are fumbled through. And if you happen to stumble upon the house while I'm fumbling through, just pray I don't start singing. There's a reason I stick to signing. No ears bleed in the process.

I also celebrated by faux-falling.

And sipping Cherry Coke while my brother picked casually scratched his nose.

Now, you may prepare to say "Awwwww...."

Remembering Gabby

I don't even know where to start in writing this. Nothing I write will do justice to the life lived or bring a dear friend to so many people back.

This week, countless people said goodbye to a dear friend. Gabby touched so many lives. She was dedicated, talented, and an absolutely sweet girl. She had the biggest smile of anyone I've ever met, and was rarely seen without it. Everyone knew her and loved her. She was a beautiful girl with a lovely voice and a personality that drew everyone to her. She was at camp every year, working concessions with her sister and her mom, and reached out to everyone she met. She brought so much laughter and fun to working out at the campgrounds for five weeks at a time. As I looked at the messages left on her page, I can't help but notice the endless lives that she touched during her short nineteen years on this earth. She was loved by all of us and will be sorely missed.

What happened this week was a tragedy. Sometimes we don't  understand what God does and why he does it. That's not a very comforting statement, but it's the truth. He has a bigger purpose and a plan than any of us could ever dream of comprehending. God loves Gabby even more than we do, and this is why we have to trust in His perfect will in this terrible time. She's home now and she's at peace, and we will see her very soon.

Goodbye, Gabby. I'll meet you on the other side.

I'm Alive

I am still alive. I just don't have a lot going on right now. 


I have filled out a million job applications to no avail. Bummer for that. Maybe once something actually happens in my life, I'll have something to blog about again.

*big sigh*

This will eventually all come to an end, right? Someday, I will get my priorities in order and decide what I want to do with my life, right? And God will eventually get through my thick skull what I'm supposed to be doing, yes?

I really don't get exactly why everything is so confusing at the moment. I had a meltdown on Wednesday, which I am attributing to the pain-in-the-butt that readjusting is. I went from working on textbooks and spreadsheets several hours a day to filling my time with whatever I can find, and certainly nothing meaningful. I need to find a job, for one thing. I need to do something, so that I'm not just sitting here, thinking myself into a frenzy.

I am really going through a fight right now. A conflict. And it honestly sounds dumb to me. But at the same time, it makes perfect sense. I cam back from this trip early, and I know that someday I would like to go back. But it seems like I just have this dull, nagging fear, note, I say fear, not feeling, that I'm going to end up living there forever. Please don't misunderstand this. I love Paraguay and the people I met there were amazing. I, except in times of serious panic and crazy spells, don't regret going. But there are people out there that, and I know they are encouraging, seem to think that my life's calling is to live there forever. I want to go back, but I really, really do not want to live there  forever. There were things I didn't like, things I missed, and things that flat out scared the crap out of me. I was living in a country right next to a very, very unstable country. I had a friend whose parents are trapped in her home country thanks to communism. I'm cut out for short-term AIM work, but the life of a missionary is not something I can see myself just loving every second of. I want to stay here, go to college, get a job, and have a family. While I was there, if I can be extremely honest, I never really felt safe. Not the kind of safe like out of danger safe. I was always afraid something was going to happen to someone. An emergency would occur and something would happen and I would be a 24-hour journey away. I'm an attached person, which is both good and bad. And I honestly don't know if these feelings are normal for a post-AIM trip person, because I don't know anyone that's had a situation like mine.  I'm scared I'm going to do the wrong thing. I'm afraid that someday, I'm going to look back and realize how wrong I was, no matter what decision I make. I'm scared.

I'm sorry that my last post was so vague and I left you hanging. Here's this other huge thing. The thing that has a lot of people putting a lot of pressure on me.

College has always been a huge thing for me. Ever since I was little, I knew I wanted to go to school and do something awesome. Of  course, back then, I wanted to be a doctor, but then I turned sixteen and decided that it just wasn't going to happen. For the past two years, I have been trying to find a place and an idea of what I want. And I just don't know what that is anymore. I thought I wanted to be a teacher. I really do love kids, but honestly, I don't know if that's what I really want to do. I don't know what I want in that area. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, so to speak. Which is why I am very indecisive at the moment and am thinking about going back to an original plan.

Because I don't know what I want to do, and Gateway doesn't have very many options, I think I have decided that in January, I will be going to Kent State. I love that school, and have since the moment I walked on campus. I got offered a very nice scholarship, and had my heart set on it. They have programs for both things I am considering, and if I hate one, I can switch to the other, or make another plan. They have a Spanish program, which is very important to me.  I've always loved that area of Ohio, with Cleveland and Akron, and all of those other places that I love, and when I went to St.Louis, I just wasn't that big of a fan. I didn't see much of it, of course, but I don't know. The reasoning for me is that it is much more likely that my coursework will transfer from Kent to Gateway, as Kent is accredited and core classes would probably help some, than that Gateway, which is non-accredited, would have credits that would transfer to Kent. I just don't know for sure, but I just feel like this is what I should do. I really don't know. And that bothers me. I feel like I'm starting back at square one. I've always had a plan. A long-term plan, and now I'm just not sure. I wish I knew.

I wish I had known I was coming back early back when I was making college plans. Maybe things would be a little clearer now.

Hypotheticals?

Suppose you're deciding between two options. And you go, "Gee, I would like a sign."

And then a literal thirty-foot sign shows up right in front of you, plastered on the front of a building.

What do you do?

My Brain Is Running Rampent

This is the first Saturday in a while that I haven't been doing my own laundry, rushing off to a youth activity, or going to church. It's my first weekend in the U.S. all summer, and honestly, I don't think my brain should be allowed to have free time right now. Because, it worries way too much, and gets stressed out and angsty. I'm just a stressed out and angsty person anyway, but this portion of my personality has been relatively curved by an excessive amount of empanadas, lomito arabes, and verb conjugation over the past seven weeks, and when you're working on Excel Spreadsheets and building titles, you really just don't have time to think about the things that just make you want to punch babies.

Because my trip ended up being way shorter than I assumed, my life is kind of at a stand-still, Dear-God-where-do-I-go-from-here phase. I don't like this at all. I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to work, because I can't stand people who sit around at home and do nothing, and would like to be somewhat of a grown-up and earn money and take some control of my finances. I need to get a driver's license, which I've wanted to do for a long time, but I'm getting to the point where I just feel like a mooching moron when I have to ask people to drive me places. I hate being dependent on other people. I just don't like that feeling. I need a car. I have money from graduation still, thanks to the abbreviation of that trip, but I need to cover insurance and all of that, too.

I am trying to figure out what I want to do about school. This is really, really stressful, and especially over the past week has had me in fits. I wish I had known that I was going to be back right now. I would be on my way to Kent State or Gateway and I wouldn't have to juggle a million other things trying to figure out what I am trying to do and how to do it. I wish I was moving into school right now with my friends. It sounds really fun and I'm ready to be a grown-up. I missed home, and I don't know how I feel about leaving again, but it's just the thought that things are just so much more complicated than they had to be. I wish I had just known. But I didn't.

I know that I had to go and that it wasn't my fault. If you're reading this and don't believe that, I'm sorry, but that's the truth. That's the thing that really sucks about coming back from something that just didn't work the way it was planned. People talk. You're not supposed to care, and you're supposed to let it roll off, but when you get the looks and hear or see people talking about you, it's just not fun. One person in particular has hurt me with this, someone I thought would understand. I'm having a hard enough time reminding myself that I didn't have a choice and that this wasn't my fault, and having a good friend doubt you and say things like, "Well, I just feel that there should have been some way for you to stay," doesn't give you that warm, fuzzy feeling that you were a smashing success in the work and you didn't fail miserably. It reminds me of what my family went through a few years ago coming back from pastoring. I wasn't stupid, deaf, or blind. I knew people talked about us. I knew people spread their own stupid theories without bothering to find out the truth or how any of us were affected. It's a fact of life. People are stupid and say stupid things. And it hurts. A lot.

The whole situation that I'm in just seems stupid and unnecessary. I put off a semester of college that I didn't have to. I don't regret going, not for a second. I just feel like I should still be there working, and that coming back early makes me some kind of failure. I don't know where to go from here and how to dig myself out. I feel completely lost.

The Long Version

I got back into the United States at about 6 this morning. I left Paraguay at 3 yesterday afternoon, and cried most of the way from Asuncion to Buenos Aires.

I've known for three weeks. So have my parents, my pastor, and a select few others. It was a surprisingly well kept secret.

There are a variety of reasons why I'm back. There was a lot of sickness, which I mentioned. The people I was supposed to live with got sick, and I wasn't allowed to stay with the missionaries for an extended period of time. We sat down at breakfast and they explained the variety of issues and explained that no, I was not in trouble, this was just not the right time for me to be in Paraguay. They suggested that I go home for a while, go to college, but they definitely wanted me to come back after college. They didn't want me to go, and I didn't want to go. But it was necessary.

I love Paraguay and I will most likely pray every day until I am able to return that I get the opportunity to go back. That country will always have a piece of my heart in it, and I will never forget the people that I met there or the experiences that I had. I'm not saying that I want to go live there forever, just that my work is definitely not done there, and I have to go back someday. I had to keep telling myself that when we took off from Asuncion.

"I will be back."

The trip back was an adventure in and of itself. I'll tell more about that later. Right now I need to sleep and convince myself that I'm really home and I'm not just dreaming.

The Short Version

I'm sitting in my living room in Ohio. I'm not in Paraguay. Give me a chance to write out the long version.

Pardon Me, Senor, But That is My Wall You Are Scurrying Across

I had a little buddy crawl into my room today. He seems to have disappeared. This scares me a little. I don't think that I want to know where he disappeared to.

RIP Meesha

I got the sad news via Facebook today that Dawn's dog, Meesha, died. She was really old and fairly decrepid for a while, and they expected her to go, but it's still pretty sad, seeing as I pretty much lived at Dawn's house and got used to Meesha being around, constantly nudging you if you weren't paying her enough attention, and of course her frequent...umm..stomach irritation. She's was my dog's mom, a fact which my brother always seemed to remind her when he visited Dawn's house. The picture above is during the giant snowstorm that hit last year, playing in the snowdrifts.

RIP Meesha. You will be missed.

To My Church

But you have carefully followed my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, longsuffering, love, perseverance, persecutions, afflictions... what persecutions I endured. And out of them all the Lord delivered me. Yes, and all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution. But evil men and impostors will grow worse and worse, deceiving and being deceived. But you must continue in the things which you have learned and been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work.

-II Timothy 3:10-17

I don't talk about my faith a lot on this blog. I have never been a deep theological person, and I very rarely will come out and talk about my walk and my faith. There come times, though, that life is wrought with spiritual battles and it all seems to hit at the same time. At these times, I find it hard to not think about my faith, and when I'm thinking about God, God spills onto the page as I write. 

I'm 6000 miles away from my church family right now, but through a variety of different mediums, I have heard about the fight that the church has been up against. At first, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good for me," I thought, "I escaped just in time. Thank you, God!" And then it kept piling up, one thing after another. and I began to feel guilty for not being there to stand and fight with them and helping in anyway that I could. 

The worst thing you could do when you read this is leave a comment and say, "Don't worry about us; you have a higher calling and more important things to worry about us. You just worry about what you're doing." I know you people mean well, but that church is my church, will always be my church, and when things go down in my church, I want to help fight with the church family who's been there for me in some tough times. Particularly over the past month. 

I know that not many of the people from church read this, but for those who do, this post is for you. It's not a lot, but it's the only help I can offer you from a different hemisphere. I can only encourage and uplift you, and let you know that prayers are going up from here, as I know that they've been going up for me from all of you. This fight is for a reason. Something good is going to happen. Something is right on the horizon that is going to make this little taste of Hell that so many families have been having in their lives seem worth it. Hang in there and be strong. I know it all seems cliche. I hate cliches. My friends know that more than anyone. But it's the truth. Do not give up.  That's the only thing that I can say.

Pretty much anyone who has been in church for any length of time (or has happened to turn on the radio and heard the song) is familiar with Ecclesiastes 3.

1	To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2	a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which isplanted;
3	a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4	a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5	a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6	a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7	a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8	a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
9	What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboreth?
10	¶ I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.
11	He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

God will make these battles worth it in his time. He's still there even if some of you can't see him. This will not last forever. If you notice, the time of war is listed before the time of peace. The peace does come. Just a little later.

I don't think that this is one of the best posts I've ever written. Probably one of the least literary sound pieces, actually. But I hope that someone was able to draw some encouragement out of it. 

What's This? A Trip?

I actually made a trip to Asuncion today! *gasp* Say what?

Oh, and this is cool. It's an avocado tree. Outside of McDonald's.

Plus, today is a holiday. So, the school was all decked out today.

And, I bought some stuff to send home to my brother and sister. Behold- my sister's new friend:

In Which FAIL Abounds and Santa Claus is a Freak

There are a variety of things that my Paraguayan friends think are weird about Americans. Santa, for example. For those of you not in the know, the seasons here are backwards. Christmas is in the summer here. So, while I was talking to my friend, Cesar, about this phenomenon, he brings up that he has always seen the American and European portrayals of Santa Claus and thinks that we are up a wall. "Why is Santa wearing a fur coat and a hat, with gloves and boots. It's 110 degrees here during summer!"

Good point. Santa is insane. I'm sure he dresses in layers to accommodate this change in temperature.

Debora thinks that we charge too much for stuff. Amen to that. We were talking about hair things and she was talking about how people here wear chopsticks and flower pins in their hair all the time. I love flower pins, which she knows, and she was telling me that a flower pin here is about 2-4 mil guaranies. AKA- 40-80 cents. My eyes bugged out and she was amused. "Are they expensive in the United States?"

"About three or four dollars."

Her husband, very money knowledgeable,  translates this. "20 mil guaranies."

At this point, it's Debora's turn for the bugging of the eyes. "Thursday, we are going to Asuncion, and we are going to buy hair flowers and other things."

So, today, I was supposed to go to Asuncion. I did not get to go to Asuncion, because a teacher was sick, and Debora had to sub. Tomorrow is a holiday, a big holiday for the kids, so we can't go then either. Is anyone noticing a trend here? Whenever I plan to go somewhere, something comes up? Two cancelled Argentine trips, one Ciudad del Este trip, and now an Asuncion trip? Come one, people! Cut me some slack here!

This weekend there is going to be a Dia de Deportes, and I'm debating whether or not to go. I don't play sports. I get hurt if I play sports. It's not good.  Maybe I'll try to persuade someone to go to Cerro Lambare with me. Another trip that's been cancelled about three or more times. And it's in the city where I live!

FAIL. FAIL. FAIL.

La Panecilla Gordita

Here in Paraguay, it is endearing to be short, pale, and chunky. I fit in well here. I am short, pale, and chunky. This has earned me nicknames among the girls I hang with. Things like chiquitita, which I must confess makes me want to break out into an ABBA number, and gordita. These things, especially the latter, should probably bother me, as gordita pretty much translates into "little, chunky one" and chiquitita translates, essentially, into "little short thing". But typically, they just make me laugh and I don't mind at all. It's okay for me to be tubby here. I kind of like it. Anyway, enough with that.

Tonight contained one of those events after which you are kind of left scratching your head going, "What the heck?" What happened was I'm sitting there, chatting along with the usual group of ladies- Mauyury, Debora, Teresa, Mami, Kati- and Debora picks up my hand and looks at it.

"Kati!", she says, in Spanish of course, "Her hands look like your sister's!"

Kati and her sister, Cindy, are both fairly pale, and Kati has very light, almost a dirty blonde, hair. This makes a lot of the guys like her. Cindy is built like me, although she is taller. What they were referring to here, were my short, chubby fingers, something I'm used to getting ribbed for, especially in piano classes. I have sausage fingers.

See?

They are chubby, and that is okay. I like my chubby fingers.

So, anyway, Kati comes over and of course, squeals because Debora is right. My hands are short, pale, and chubby like her sister's apparently are. I would not know this, of course. And then they make the statement that leaves me going, "Eh?"

"Her hand looks like an empanada!"

Apparently, when I make a fist, my hand looks like this-

I couldn't decide exactly whether or not I should be offended. I decided not to, and instead broke out into hysterical laughter, because honestly, it was pretty hilarious. And because I am a little gordita.

More On Mail Prizes

I was very excited yesterday morning to be able to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch for the first time in over a month.   Unfortunately, this was packed next to the fabric softener (we don't have that here), and so my first bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch had a subtle hint of Springtime Scent. Yummy. I had regular toast for breakfast this morning.

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I received two dark chocolate Dove bars in my box from my parents. I promised to practice self-restraint and make them last for at least a week. I ate the last one last night. 

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I also received Season Two of Bridezillas. I'm done watching all of that already, too. I have such discipline.  

Communism and More Pleasant Subjects

I had one of those conversations today that just gives you the chills. Something that in the United States, I probably would have shaken off and gone, "Oh, that's not good." We were talking about a friend of mine here from Venezuela. She's having a baby- and is due on my birthday, actually- and her parents planned on coming down around that time. For those of you who don't know, Venezuela is a little bit of a wreck right now and in the past few weeks, things have gone from bad to worse. Her parents are no longer able to get a visa, as it turns out, and will not be able to come here. The Birs also told me that 34 radio stations were shut down there next week.  The situation in South America is not good. You all probably knew that South America has its problems, but when you're living next to a country that just took out a $100 million loan to buy arms from Russia (like me, living next to Bolivia), you start to care about these things. Now, don't all freak out about me. I'm okay, and there are no immediate threats to Paraguay, but the possibility is out there someday. No time in the immediate future, and probably not for several years, God willing. It's just terrifying to think that someday the friends I have made here will possibly be put into a situation like that. The situation is personal now, and I'm not liking it. I don't like how close I am to this situation, but at the same time, it is a rather big wake up call to me as to just how clueless I am about what is going on in the world and what people go through. It's another one of those reminders as to just how good I have it living in the United States.

On the other hand, here's another thing you don't have to worry about (usually) in the United States. We all complain about the traffic jams and crazy drivers plugging up the roads, but when was the last time that within the course of two days you had to wait for a herd of cows and three horses to get out of the road so that you could move along. Our roads are pretty awful here anyway, and waiting for differing varieties of cattle to pass you by is a fairly regular occurrence. I've been trying to get a picture of the cows since my first week here.

This picture I took especially for Michael, because Ben 10 is a big thing here, and he happens to love Ben 10. You all benefit, though, because you get to see what a Happy Meal is in Spanish. Technically, it translates into  "happy little box".

The best part of the day had to be Bro.Bir going to the post office. I have received not one, but two packages today. My parents sent me a box about a month or so ago, and it just got in last week. There were amazing things like Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Dove Chocolate inside, not to mention a season of Bridezillas, Napoleon Dynamite, a lizard from my brother (no, not a real one), and a dried rose that didn't quite survive the journey, as well as a picture from my sister,  among other things. The surprise was that my second box was from my Non-Dancing Australian BFFFFFFFFFF (don't ask), Carolyn. It was really a padded envelope, but I'm writing this post,  not you, so I'll call it what I want.

There was a lovely note that got me all teary eyed and a Twilight bag, which was, let's be honest, absolutely amazing. Good ending to a day full of Communists and cattle, if I do say so myself.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Although Carolyn's awesome present came through in a week, things usually don't happen like that. Mail usually takes about five or six weeks to get to me at the moment, and I've been having some problems getting it, so if you could please hold off on sending me stuff for the time being that would be great. Emails are awesome, and I love them, but mail right now is a little bit of a hassle. If things get better, I'll sound the all-clear and let you know. Thanks for understanding!!

My Morning= FAIL

Let's review:

1. I wake up at my normal time of 5:45. FAIL in itself.
2. I forgot that today is English lesson day. Which means we don't leave until 8. I could have had an extra hour of sleep. I dozed a little but woke up every 15 minutes just to make sure they didn't leave with out me. FAIL.
3. We leave at 8:30 and as we drive down our little alley of Pasaje Francisco Barrio, we stop and I get a slight feeling that I'm tilting to the side slowly. I think it's just my imagination
4. Nope. Apparently the tires got slashed when Bro.Bir went to Argentina last night. (Sis.Bir and I didn't end up going)
5. We had to stand on the side of the road for about 45 minutes while this guy fixed our tire that was slashed and changed our tire.
6. WIN. We went back and had french toast.
7. I come here and work on the third grade workbook/textbook. Found out I've been putting in the wrong writing sheet lines in the book. Had to go back, delete them, and replace them.
8. Twitter and Facebook don't seem to feel like working.

There will be pizza for lunch. That should improve my mood. Dear Lord, I hope so.

Proofreading Wins in Any Language

Before I begin, I'm going to Argentina for the day tomorrow, to Formosa. Be jealous.

Anyway, proofreading, once again, has saved lives, and perhaps the souls of the children at the Christian school here. My project right now is to transfer a bunch of handwritten sheets in notebooks for the kids' English classes onto the computer, making them look pretty, so that from now on, Sis.Bir doesn't have to slave for hours handwriting 150 notebooks, which kids often lose or destroy, and she has to make new ones. They will be printed out and spiral bound, a lot like the textbooks they use for the Bible school here. She'll charge the books in tuition, and the kids who get free tuition because of their poverty or social status will get free books as well. Because I am my techie self, and Sis.Bir has noticed this and happily handed over the reigns to typing and computer designed stuff to me while I'm here, she said something about waiting until Sis.Goodrum returned from deputation to type up these books, and I asked, "Why? I'm almost done with copying these titles. I need a new project." Gleefully, she handed me four notebooks, and hinted that maybe Elias would also like his Guarani notebooks transferred. 

Yesterday, I spent the day formatting homework sheets for first-fourth grades. Pre-escolar and jardin don't have homework, because they're still just learning Spanish themselves . The poor kids already speak two languages as it is and they're four and five years old. What's the point weighing them down with ANOTHER one, which would likely confuse them. So Sis.Bir sticks to colors, numbers, and coloring sheets, and isn't doing a book for them.

Today, I knew I wasn't going to be in the office all day, because Bro.Bir and Pastor Kiti came back from a week long trip to Argentina and we had to go get them at the Omnibus terminal. So, I decided that I would try to get half of the first notebook done. It turned out being much easier than I expected, so even with only five hours in the office today, I have the books finished except for a few worksheets that need scanned in, and any additions that will be made throughout the rest of the school year.

Rewind to one of the last pages I did. A coloring sheet with the words to 'Jesus Loves Me' and a coloring sheet of Jesus with little children. The heading, in Spanish and English, says, "Let's Sing!". Unfortunately, I happened to miss a letter, and as I was looking back through the notebook, admiring my work, thankfully, before I printed anything, I notice a picture of Jesus, looking lovingly at the little children, with an upbeat suggestion for all of the adorable little Paraguayan children at Escuela Nuevas Alturas.

"Let's Sin!!"

Christian school lesson FAIL. Proofreading WIN.

Storytime

Once upon there was an AIM worker with iffy Spanish. One day, this AIM worker went to a party at the church for Dia de la Amistad with the jovenes.  She then went to the kitchen and helped her friends prepare food for the impending party time that was to follow, and the time was drawing nigh for them to partake of empanadas, milanesa, and, perhaps the most foreign dish of all, sandwiches. As she was henceforth cutting the sandwiches into cuartos, a handsome young gentleman appeared before her, and behold, he was muy, muy guapo. But alas, the guy was very quick of speech, and his speech, it was in Spanish. The young AIM  worker was confounded, for her comprehension of the language was restricted to those speaking at a snail like pace, and at that, she would only understand about a third. The man, unaware of this, babbled on extremely fast, and she surprisingly could understand. He asked how long she would be here, if her parents were coming, too, to visit, and when she replied "Nay", he then asked, in very, very, very fast Spanish-

"Extranjas tu mother?" (Do you miss your mother?)

Thinking that the boy was still asking about if her parents were coming to visit, the AIM worker replied, "No."

"Extranjas tu father?"

"No."

At this point, the boy nodded a little, raised his eyebrows, and looked at the AIM worker as though she had the pox.

Alas, the young AIM workers very good friend, who knows to speak to her slowly in Spanish, explained what he was saying, and the young AIM worker laughed hysterically, and attempted to correct her mistake.

Epilogue

The young gentleman most likely thinks that Americans are idiots. Namely, the young AIM worker.

Aqui Al Pie de la Cruz

This is the song I've been helping with the signs for. This is the first time they did it, andI was very impressed with how it turned out. Debora is the one on the far left, Yolanda is in the middle, and Gasparina, Debora's mom, is on the far right, closest to the camera.

Too Much Cuteness

While I haven't done as much actual teaching as I had planned, I absolutely love the kids here. They are incredibly enthusiastic and energetic and I just love watching them. Whenever they see me with my camera they all stare and smile big for it, even if they're supposed to be paying attention to something else. I can't help it. I'm supposed to be taking candid pictures.

In case you don't remember, there is a large epidemic of pneumonia-bronchitis-lung infection stuff going around Paraguay at the moment, and the schools' winter breaks were extended an extra week so that kids could get well. Not that this did much good, as on Monday, when they started back, less than half of the kids showed up. I have been gone for a month now, and in that month, I have been in the classroom twice and this is only the fifth school day I have witnessed.  Yet, after lunch today, when I came back to the school, the kids from the jardin class who were out on recess came towards me running, yelling, "Hello, Profe! Hello!" They are learning basic Engish and say things like hello, thank you, and I love you all the time. I've been in their classrooms twice, and they still call me profe,  which means teacher. Weird, yet sweet stuff.

Enjoy this familiar tune:

This week has been fairly uneventful. It's just me and Sis.Bir until next Wednesday, because Bro.Bir is in Argentina.  Sis.Bir and I didn't go along because of car trouble and the fact that school started back up this week. Oh well. Maybe another time. I've been busy making up pictures for posters and flashcards, and it's nice to have a lot to do and to help with. I'm not liking the 6:30-5 hours and the moment, though. Tomorrow should be a shorter day, praise God. I at least get to sleep in until 7:15 instead of 5:45. I'm making a trip to Cerro Lambare this week or next week, where I'll have to hike up the hill. That should be a story to share. I'm going with Diana either next Monday or next Thursday. Not sure which yet. I'll keep you posted on that and close with a picture of Cerro Lambare. I took this picture from the restaurant on top of the grocery store down the street from where I live, called SuperSeis. The grocery stores here have buffet restaurants on top of them, with delicious Paraguayan food. Even the Sopa Paraguaya wasn't bad, and I haven't been a fan of that so far.

More Recent Happenings

The past few days have been extrordinarily busy. I've been working on photocopying the church's constitution and titles for all of the properties that they own here in Paraguay so that they can get the taxes exonerated. It's a complicated process that has already taken roughly 600 photocopies and I'm about halfway through. The church constitution, a copy of the cedula, or identification, id number, and other required documents is about 24 pages. I had to run off 20 copies of that. I then have to run off all of the titles which can range from about five pages to fifteen pages, depending on how long the property has been in ownership. If this doesn't sound complex enough, the copier has been a fixture of the church for ten years and has made roughly a quarter of a million copies. For a machine that old, that pretty much signifies that the machine is on its last leg. Also the fact that it jams paper every other copy and when it's not jamming paper, the jam paper light comes on anyway just to make me happy.

It's hard to believe that on Wednesday, I will have been gone for a month. Also, that a few weeks ago, I was planning on leaving on Tuesday. I'm not planning on doing that anymore, but I still have my moments. Like last week.

Last night, we went out to the campo, which was a real experience to say the least. It involved driving out to the middle of nowhere, finding a house, and then following a dirt and rock trail through the woods to this church, which was just built.

Welcome to the missions field. That's what I was expecting to see when I got here. The floor was dirt and they had only a guitar. No microphones, no sound systems, no piano, nothing. And yet, they worshipped anyway. *gasp* Shocking, I know.

This picture is something that just blew my mind-

This kitchen is outside. It's mostly improvised and is seperate from the house. It's amazing when you see how lucky we are in the States. This was one of those moments where I realized how blessed I was.

Last Weekend...finally

I had the best day that I’ve had since I’ve been here last Saturday.

I got up at six in the morning so that I could ride the bus for the first time. We met at the church at seven, and had to walk for about ten or fifteen minutes to get to the place where the bus was. Transportation here is crazy. It costs about two mil, or two thousand, guaranies, to ride the bus. That’s roughly forty cents.  I had to take two buses to get to the city where the youth event was and it took about an hour and a half. I really kind of liked the feel of the bus. The wide turns, however, were not so pleasant. I kept thinking that I was going to fall out of my seat.

The youth service was pretty great. Not that I could understand anything while they were singing. As usual. But the sermon was illustrative, so I could actually kind of follow along, which was a nice change.

Afterwards, we headed over to the Christian school in this town and there was a volleyball court set up on some concrete, a table with some food, and goats. Goats, wandering around out in the middle of the field. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but soccer here is about as crazy as football. Therefore, I was getting quite an education in soccer. That is, what team I should cheer for, which happens to be Cerro, I guess. I don’t know anything about that team, but apparently they’re good, I guess. I got to see some real Paraguayan futbol (soccer), too, because there was a game going on at the bottom of the field. It was fun to get to see all of that, too, but the people are crazy. It is so much more competitive here than there.

After getting to watch some futbol, I got to see some more sights of Paraguay, which was great because I haven’t really got to see much since I’ve been here. We went to Villa Hayes, which is a town across the bridge that goes over from the Central department (departments here are the equivalent of states) to the Chaco department. The bridge crosses Rio Paraguay which is a huge river that divides the country. There are four districts on the Chaco side, and thirteen districts on the Central side. If I got that wrong, forgive me, this was a few nights ago, and that’s what I remember. Rude comments on how I don’t know anything about the country are not appreciated. Anyway, this bridge is a mile long and I have no idea how tall. You can see the skyline of Asuncion from the top and at night it’s all lit up. It’s really beautiful.  We went to the town of Villa Hayes, which happens to be named after Rutherford B. Hayes, who signed a proclamation granting the land for the town or something along those lines. There’s a big memorial to him there, so Debora and Gonzalo, who are the people I went with, showed me the memorial and wanted me to read them the proclamation in Spanish, because they don’t speak English, and couldn’t read it. Unfortunately, it was in very slanty cursive and in old language, and I just don’t speak that much. So, it didn’t work out well. After this, we went down and looked at the river. They told me about how when the church was first started, there was no bridge and people had to come across in boats.  Also, apparently, there’s a sinkhole that people believe sucks people under and they pop up on the other side of the river. That’s encouraging.

Oh, and while we were at the church at Villa Hayes, a lady came over and said there was a monkey in one of her trees. A monkey. There’s something you don’t see in Ohio. It was pretty awesome. And apparently they do have them frequently here. And parrots. I keep forgetting that I’m in the tropics.                                                                                                      

Better

I haven't written because the aforementioned situation has been resolved. Meaning that I'm now very busy. I think I have part of a day off tomorrow. so I'll play catch up then.

A note for you though. When showing a Paraguayan friend how to do a hairstyle, do not tell her that she has more caballo than you. This means horse and she will laugh hysterically at you. The word is cabello. Noted.

Sorry If This Is Getting Old

I have a nice post that I'm working on about this weekend, but right now, I need that to wait, and once again, I need you to pray for me. There are some things here that I really need to work out and deal with and talk through, and how that stuff goes will have a large impact on how long this trip is really going to last. It's not something that I'm going to go into, a few people know about it, and to some people, it's really not that big of a deal. But really, in the current situation I'm in, it's a huge deal. Just pray for me and for God's will. And that I'll actually know what that is, because it kind of escapes me at the moment.

Don't get me wrong, I really do love this country. But there are things that need resolved.

Thank you so much for the support you've given me so far. It helps a lot.