Immense

Psalm 81:10 "I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt: open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it."

I always thought this verse sounded kind of funny with the metaphor that God was using...but as I look back on this past week...I realize that we have received some immense answers to prayer.  As a team, we have petitioned the Lord for opportunities regarding reaching out in our community.  This Sunday us four girls had a chance to host five young students at our house for an Easter celebration.  We shared the story of Easter with them...and all of them said it was their first time to hear about it.  Afterward, we introduced them to a more 'American tradition'...Easter egg painting.  We had a really good time with them and were so grateful for the chance to tell them a little more about our faith.  Some of our students want so much to spend time with us, that they'll come to church with us, even if they are practicing Buddhists!  If we can't understand the service, at least they can... our prayer is that while we are here, and after we leave, the students we have gotten to know will think about the way that we American teachers are different, and seek out more about the faith they see in us.  

Us four girls are trying to organize a Saturday program we can have for a small group of students.  Most of our Saturdays are spent doing something with them, but we really want to start a consistent time to get together.  We could really use your prayers - a lot of times for us the weekend is so easy to just take for ourselves and rest after the school week than struggle for several hours over a language barrier with young teenagers.

For everyone back home who has been praying for my safety overseas...your prayers came in handy today.  I had my first car + bike accident - and I was on the bike.  I was on my way to the store to pick up some bacon for dinner, when a parallel parked car started to pull out into the road.  There wasn't enough time for me to stop or swerve away.  The front tire of my bike hit the front fender and I lurched into my handlebars and got flipped sideways onto my back.  I was stunned, but I was also laying in the road, so I jumped up and went to my bike.  The tire was at an almost right-angle with my handlebars and the right pedal was stuck under the front of the car.  I yanked it out, (I must confess not really caring if I was damaging the vehicle that had just inflicted such trauma to my person) and tried to get back on...that's when I realized about the handle bars.  I put the tire between my knees and twisted the bars back into position and hoped that it would stay put - I still had to go get the bacon.  I was still shaking when I got home, and a little bit bruised, but as I look back, it could have been so much more serious.  God has his hand over me, and it's such a safe feeling to realize that nothing can happen to me that He does not allow.  My name is written on His hand and everywhere I am He is continually aware of my needs.  -Isaiah 49:16 "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me."

Precious

My kids try so hard to make me happy.  They stumble over words and think nothing of how silly their pronunciation might sound to me...they just want me to know that they want to be able to say it...for me...the teacher.  I've been here for almost eight months now, and as I look back...I'm trying to see all the things that I have done for the Lord that would make him happy.  I wonder what he saw as silly choices.  I feel just like one of the little kids I teach...fumbling around the things in my path, and trying to do my best for the Teacher.  I wonder if my kids are thinking about how well they measure up - if they make the cut.  It makes me think about how concerned I should be about what the Lord thinks of my accomplishments and failures over here.

What's Your Name?

Yesterday's school was about an hour away.  It was constructed on the side of a mountain so the track field looks out over the expansive valley.  All of the students are aboriginal.  English classes start in third grade for children here, so typically we do not teach any grades below that level.  This school made a special request that we hold a class for the second graders.  Each of the eleven students in the class are barely taller than my knee, and even the most simple words we use in English are nothing to them.  There goes our lesson plan.  I stand in front of them and ask in Chinese "Do any of you have an English name?"  They reply back to me in their language, "No.".  "Do you want to have an English name?" I ask, still in Chinese... one little boy in the front slowly raises his hand, then another student, then another.  We go through the class to each child and give them each a piece of paper with their new name.  We help them say it once, then twice - and many times.  They bravely answer our question "What is your name?" with the sentence pattern we teach them in English "My name is ____.".  They are so proud of themselves and say their new name to themselves over and over under their breath.  Their Chinese name is still the one they use, but in the years to come, they will need an English name if they ever hope to break out of the simple life they've known.  To the people here an English name is almost like a symbol of hope for the future.