The Church Search

Really, I should let Michael write this post, seeing as he's been the one talking to all the pastors and church secretaries and elders and what not. But since he's on the phone right now, and I'm the one with the inspiration to blog about it, I'm gonna go ahead and write this one.

Finding a good church has been harder than I thought. I often hear a lot of missions mobilizations people talk about how in places like America, people can wander into churches and hear the gospel. They use this to contrast the need for evangelical Christians to go out into "unreached, unengaged" areas where there are no churches for people to walk into. And I believed that when I left America two years ago, claiming the same ambitions of the apostle Paul.

Don't get me wrong, I still think that's true. I remember a friend telling me that in her husband's hometown in central Iowa there were 40 churches for 10,000. In my city in Big Red, there were 10,000,000 people and 2 churches. And I do think that Americans are able to walk into most churches and hear a solid, complete, and biblical presentation of the gospel message. But beyond that, it's hard to find a place to belong.

Maybe we're too picky. We just got married, so we want to go to a church with young married people. We are convicted by Scriptures and the Holy Spirit that missions are our life calling, so we want to go to a church that gets excited about that stuff. We like punk rock and electric guitars, so we want to go to a church that worships in a contemporary and passionate style. And we believe that the Word of God is infallible and the ultimate authority on what it means to be a Christian, so we want to go to a church that delights in the meditation of the Word and teaches it with authority.

Oh, and we're Calvinist.

I don't bring that up to start debates or sit on a high horse or stand on a soap box or whatever. I say that because, well, that might be the part that makes us too picky.

Anyway, so first we started going to churches we knew, churches I grew up in or my family grew up in, and it was nice except for the fact that there aren't young married people, or they don't sing contemporary music, or they aren't yet to the point of being mission-minded.

So we branched out a little, and we started going elsewhere. We went to one church where the preacher didn't open the Bible not a single time. Another time, we asked to talk to an elder about doctrinal views and when we told him we were Calvinist, he told us we needed to study the Scriptures and not be guided by things we'd heard. (That bothered me because he assumed I hadn't, that I'd been blown around on this Calvinist-Armenian debate as if it's something many blow-around people get involved in...)

Then Michael started calling churches out of the phone book, to get some of these questions answered beforehand. He called 10 or 12 churches and most had phone numbers that were out of service, or answering machines with old messages. Only two actually answered and talked to him. And over the last week, a few have called back and talked to him, sometimes at length, about who they are, what they believe, what's happened in their churches, and what we should believe.

Sometimes it's good, but not quite there. Old preachers who are Bible-believing and true to their very souls but hang on to the King James Version as the only trust-worthy translation. Friendly, welcoming people who claim to be reformed but ordain women. Once, Michael has a really good, promising conversation with a preacher at a Baptist church in the next town over. Well, it was good until Michael asked, "Where on the Calvinist-Armeneist (Poor West Texan Michael who doesn't always get his word ending right...) spectrum would your church fall?" And the man began going through each of Calvinism's five points explaining where he stood on each of them. Then he got to Limited Atonement and said, "That's just plain heresy."

I was, at the time, standing in front of the mirror doing my hair when I just about flipped out. I was remembering Paul saying something to the Romans about don't let people call unholy what you regard as holy, throwing bobby pins and mouthing vehemently to Michael, "We are not going to a church where they think we're heretics!"

But that's not the point. We should know better than to expect Calvinist churches to paint their doctrinal stances on their church signs. And we should expect that there are a lot of churches with organs and hymns. The saddest part of this whole experience has been that (1) nearly every church we've called recently experienced a split, and (2) that there are so many churches but so few that are relevant to people who already believe in Jesus, let alone to people who don't.

As we drove home from church today, I told Michael, "I miss Sunday mornings in Big Red. Everybody looked at the word and had something to say and we learned and we grew and we encouraged each other." Why is it that in America, the land of abundance, it's so hard to walk out of church and say the same thing?

In the New House

I am currently stealing wireless internet from the neighbors. Checked facebook and was glad to see that it no longer asked me to confirm my relationship status. Checked email and saw that J. Crew is having a sale on corduroy pants. Checked Jo-Jo's blog and saw some awesome videos of him dancing.

Going to bed soon. Realizing that this is the third "house" I've lived in this year. Glad to be done moving around for a while.

For those of you who are wondering, married life is awesome. Sure, we're in that "honeymoon stage"--though I wish the entirety of the honeymoon stage played out in Cape May during the off-season--and that is supposed to mean that everything is wonderful. But I am willing to believe that it's wonderful anyway.

Anyway, goodnight friends. Love you all.

New Jersey Fun Facts (#1)

For those of you who will be driving in New Jersey next weekend, this is very important information:

In New Jersey, it is illegal to pump your own gas.

That's right, there is not a single self-service gas station in the entire state of New Jersey. For those of you who grew up anywhere else in the world, this may seem unreal. But it's not. I didn't learn how to pump gas until I was 20 and living in Iowa. Most, if not all of my family--with the exception of the Iowa branch, of course--don't know how to pump gas.

"Why!?" You might be saying, "What could possibly lead to the legislation against pumping your own gas? Is it even constitutional to be denied the right to do things for yourself?" Some of you might even be outraged to the point of, "These are the beginnings of communism!"

The story I'd always heard was about unemployment. Someone, everyone, said that sometime in the seventies unemployment peaked in New Jersey, and our ever watchful state government came up with a plan to create jobs. "Let's make it illegal to pump your own gas," they said, "And force gasoline stations hire attendants. That will create hundreds, if not thousands of jobs!" And what I've always heard was, "Maybe that was a good idea then, to help the people get by during hard economic times, but now we've created a career option that doesn't leave much room for growth." My band director always used to tell us, "Don't drop out of school because you'll end up pumping gas." In New Jersey, pumping gas tops flipping burgers on the list of jobs-teachers-threaten-students-with-when-telling-them-to-stay-in-school.

The internet, which is the answer to all of life's problems, offered some different explanations:

It seems that once upon a time, pumping your own gas was dangerous, so the law was passed to protect the people. Oregon apparently shares this view, and with reason: Zoolander's fashion buddies died in a horrible self-pumping gasoline accident. And there have been no such accidents reported in New Jersey (or Oregon) since the enacting of the law.

Most articles I could find cited the "danger" factor as the reason for the law. Some added a note about the American Disabilities Act, while others did briefly touch on the unemployment issue. But none cited it as the main reason.

In my searching, I did find an article from May 2006 where the governor proposed installing some "test self-service stations" along the NJ turnpike. As you can see from the article, the people of New Jersey threw the biggest hissy fit against a government since the Boston Tea Party. In less than a week, it says, the governor withdrew his proposal.

So whatever the reason, the people of New Jersey do not and will not pump their gas. And while you're here, you shouldn't either because it's the law. When you pull up to the station, greet the attendant warmly and thank him for his willingness to serve.

Weather

So what's the weather like in New Jersey in mid-October? According to weather.com (click here to see the forecast) it's high in the mid-sixties, low in the mid-forties. That means cool in the morning, comfortable-cool mid-day, and chilly at night. That means wear layers because even though you're cold in the morning, it'll heat up by 20 degrees and if you're not wearing anything under that heavy sweater, you might suffer heat stroke.

Fall is not very convenient for knowing what to wear, but it sure is pretty! The trees are starting to change color and there's that crisp, winter-is-coming smell. I hope you'll enjoy the drive down from the airport. It's a little hectic until you get on 55, but at that moment you are rewarded with lots and lots of beautiful trees.

Looking forward to seeing you!

Airport Pick-ups

So the next big thing I'm working on is picking up people from the airport. If you haven't already, send me or michael your flight information and we (or my uncle or cousin or somebody) will come get ya!

Thanks, and see you soooooooon!

The Play List

In lieu of a DJ at the reception, Michael and I have opted for the iPod play list. Now, DJs are nice because they take requests and they feel the crowd, but they are expensive. So since we won't have a man with headphones taking requests, we're taking them now.

So leave a comment and tell us what to play.

And you can tell us what to play even if you're not coming.

Thanks!

Hotel Rooms, Part 2

As you can see from the previous post, our reception is going to happen in a hotel. For those of you who know our story, you know that hotels play an important role--namely that I picked up Michael in the lobby of a hotel in Thailand. Scandalous, I know. Anyway, you get to be part of our hotel story. Those of you who are out-of-towners can also stay at the Ramada for that weekend at a discount rate of $75 per room per night plus tax. Here's how.

1. Decide if you need roommates or if you will be renting a room for yourself. (If you need roommates but don't know who, let me know and we'll hook you up.)
   
2. Decide if you need any special accommodations: can't do stairs, need a cot or rollaway bed for Billy your third child, need a fridge for your insulin shots...
   
3. After the roommate arrangements/special accommodations decisions are made call (856) 696-3800.
   
   • Tell them your with the Peeples-Sauceda Wedding
     
   • Tell them which nights you will be staying.
     
   • Tell them about any special accommodations you need. They should not charge you extra for any of those things.
   
   
4. Your rate includes breakfast.
   
5. You have to do this before October 3rd for the discounted rate of $75 plus tax or the rate will default back to the regular price of $109 plus tax.

So let's review:

• Singles who want to split the room with someone (up to 4 people) should either make their own arrangements with other people OR should email me and I can hook you up.
  
• If you have special needs, tell the front desk when you call.
  
• You have to call before October 3rd.
  
• You have to say it's for the Peeples-Sauceda wedding.

The telephone number: (856) 696-3800
The address: 2216 W. Landis Avenue, Vineland, NJ 08360

For driving directions from the Philadelphia Airport.
For driving directions to the church.
For driving directions to Atlantic City. (For those of you who really want to party like it's 1999...)

If you have any questions or problems, let me know. Thanks for being patient on this one.

Let's Party Like It's 1999 (The Reception Post)

We signed a contract today and finally have a reception hall! So...

The Regency Ballroom
Ramada Inn
2216 W. Landis Avenue
Vineland, NJ 08360

If you have any special dietary needs (i.e. you're vegetarian, allergic to gluten, etc) let me know or if you have small children who don't like fancy food and would rather eat chicken tenders let me know that, too. You can write it on your RSVP or comment on this post or email me. Also, I have to give the caterer an official number on October 10th so please please please send me your RSVPs before then.


If you want directions, go here.

So let's party like it's 1999! Or like it's my wedding and you're really excited about it. Or like it's 1997 and it was a really good year for alternative music.

God is Generous

So that's been the thing I've been learning the last year. At the risk of sounding like a moocher and free-loader, we've received money from people (sometimes people we don't know well, or people we knew well a long time ago but have fallen out of touch with, and sometimes close friends and our loving family) when we needed it the most, we've gotten cars, and we are well-fed, we've gotten clothes and shoes as gifts at just the right time...

And now we're planning a wedding with a tight budget and a tight schedule and so many things are falling into place.

I confess that I am not a person who easily believes in prayer. My whole Christian life, I have been quick to study and talk about and teach doctrine, and I love the Bible and delving into its depths. But me and prayer, I do it because I believe God loves me, but many prayers are acts of the will where I actively choose to believe that the infinite God would be mindful of me. But God, over and over and over again proves to me that he is attentive, faithful, and generous.

I'll have more wedding details hopefully Monday or Tuesday. Keep checking the blog, and when those contracts are signed and sealed, I'll let you know.

And if you are the kind of person who prays, Praise God because he is generous.

The authority of Scripture

In vain were the authority of Scripture fortified by argument, or supported by the consent of the Church, or confirmed by any other helps, if unaccompanied by an assurance higher and stronger than human judgment can give.

John Calvin
Institutes of the Christian Religion
Book I Chap VIII Sect 1

Hotel Rooms

Many of you have asked what hotels are available in the area and I've told you that I'm working on getting a block of hotel rooms at a discount rate for you. Here's what's going on with that.

I have a travel agent friend who contacted the hotels and got quotes from them and I'm supposed to call her back today and tell her what I think about those quotes. The truth of the matter is that the quotes they gave her are the same as what's on the website and so it's not any sort of discount at all. So I'm going to call her back today and talk to her about it and see what can be done.

Now, given that we get that all sorted out, I need to know from all of you how many rooms you need and how many people will be in your room. Now some of you have already told given me that information, but it would be very helpful to me if you gave it to me again either in your RSVP (look in the mail this coming week for your invitations!) or in an email or by commenting here. If you are a single person willing to share a room, also please let me know--and if you know who you want to share a room with, let me know that too.

Thanks for your patience with me. I'll let you know how that conversation with my travel agent friend goes.

Back in Tulsa

It's 7:30a on Labor Day, and we are hoping to leave at about 10a. I'm waiting for the laundry to dry, then I'll take a shower, get ready, wake up Michael, pack the car, go to the grocery store and buy a loaf a bread and a box of Dr. Pepper, and hopefully head to Marion, Indiana by 10.

Hopefully.

Amy, who is one of the coolest girls I know, lives in Marion and has graciously agreed to let us crash at her place.

Then from Marion, we'll be on to Vineland and on to whatever comes next.

Our Rabbi Friend

This is a hilarious story and I wanted to share it with everyone. (Mom, I hope you don't mind!)

So my mom gives one of our a uncles a ride to work sometimes, and he works at a kosher chicken processing plant. Because it's kosher, there's a rabbi who overseas their process to make sure that they don't cut corners and he signs of on it being kosher food. Well, this particular rabbi doesn't drive and likes to smoke. And my mom saw over the course of several weeks that every Tuesday this Rabbi walked alone from the plant to a convinience store a certain distance away. Being the kind and generous person she has always been, she decided one day to stop and offer the man a ride. And he accepted. The next Tuesday he flagged her down. Then he started waiting for her. And now, every Tuesday, she gives him a ride to that convenience store, where he buys a pack of smokes and goes on his way.

Yesterday, Michael emailed my mom (because they do that a lot) and asked about the Rabbi. This was my mom's reply:

Indeed I gave the Rabbi a ride today. I gave him a ride last Tuesday for the first time after not seeing him for several weeks and it was funny...He spotted me very close to the plant parking lot, I stopped, he got in the car quicker than usual and before he finished buckling the seatbelt he said "you can go", I did not move, so he buckled nervously and said "go". As I was driving away I noticed that under the trees on the side of the parking lot there was another Rabbi observing us with a very stern look...and I thought maybe the Rabbi friend would be reprimanded and wouldn't ask for rides anymore...but no...he was there today again.

If I were a more dedicated writer, I would write a book called Our Rabbi Friend and it would tell about what happens between Tuesdays at the plant parking lot.

The Southwestern Tour

I'm in Lubbock, TX right now, home of Buddy Holly, Texas Tech, and One Guy From Italy. Can't say I ever thought my life would play out in such a way that I'd have family in Lubbock, but then again, I also never thought I'd go to New Jersey or Iowa or China.

Anyway, we're doing our southwestern tour: Tulsa-> Lubbock-> Abilene-> Brownwood-> Willis-> Longview-> Oklahoma City-> Tulsa. Then from Tulsa, we'll be on our Appalachian Tour, which really just means we'll be driving home to New Jersey.

Hopefully we'll be in Jersey by September 10th, which also happens to be my birthday.

Also, today is our one year anniversary. We'll be spending it with Granny. :)

It's good to have friends and family all over the world. I like it.

Save the Date

So we're getting married. And we're going to post a lot of stuff here about the wedding. Here's some basic info:

Oct 17, 2009 is the day. We'll start at 3:30pm at Covenant Orthodox Presbyterian Church (1029 E. Landis Ave., Vineland, NJ, 08360)

The airport to fly into is Philadelphia International Airport (PHL). We are working on arranging transportation from and to Philly. If you want to rent a car for the weekend, you can find more information here.

You can also consider flying into the Newark Airport (EWR), but it is farther away and even less traveler friendly than the Philly Airport.

We're also working on reserving a block of hotel rooms at a discount rate. If you are interested in being a part of that, let us know so we can include you in the number. When we have the rate information, we will pass that along to you.

I am sure that there will be lots of questions about lots of things. We'll try to keep you posted here, and feel free to leave comments if you we haven't addressed something.

Thanks for being a part of our story!

The Day I Met Michael

We'd flown in that morning, and I'd taken a moment to read my email. Laura had sent one saying, "You should meet a guy named Peeps and totally fall in love with him." I laughed, and dismissed it.

And that afternoon, after I got back from watching Chocolate--a strange and wonderful Thai boxing movie--we got back to the hotel and ran into a guy named Michael. Ross, who'd met him before, introduced him to us and we went into the hotel and he headed off to wherever he was going.

I saw him in the hotel dining room the next morning at breakfast, and in the lobby later, and in the elevator. The elevator was one of those mirrored boxes where if you're riding with a stranger, you have no where to look except at the little display that tells you the floor numbers. And once, I rode that elevator with Michael, and as I watched the floor numbers change, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if Michael were Peeps?"

And on Friday, we went and had lunch at Sojo's or whatever that really awesome western food restaurant is called. And Michael was in there, and we asked him to come sit with us and we spent a lovely lunch all of talking and laughing.

Than Dan turns to Michael and says, "Hey, Mike--wait, do you go by Mike or by Michael?" And Michael replied, "Actually everyone calls me Peeps."

I was eating a delicious pulled pork sandwich at that moment and proceeded to choke. Peeps. The one Laura told me to fall in love with. The one I'd been checking out in the elevator. "Just eat your sandwich, Elena. Just eat your sandwich and don't be stupid."

And just then, Michael/Peeps says, "I think linguists are really fascinating people," and I choke a little more and my friend Matt says to Michael/Peeps, "You should talk to Elena then, because that's all she ever talks about it and we don't want to hear it anymore."

Michael and I did eventually talk, and then he started emailing, and then he started texting, and then calling, until finally he got on a plane and came to Philly and asked me to marry him. And I said yes.

South Jersey

Not a lot of people outside of New Jersey know that South Jersey and North Jersey are very distinctly different places. When people find out that I'm from Jersey they says things like, "Joisey", "Boids", and "Hoity-Toity". But that's North Jersey, people. We don't talk like that down here.

South Jersey means farms: sweet corn, tomatoes, peaches, and dairy. It means beach, but not fancy-shmancy New Yorkers on the weekend beach, it means boardwalks and carnival games, and water rides, and just good ole beach. It means Russian mafia, Italian mafia, Greek Mafia, and lots of other mafias. It means high teen pregnancy rates, lots of drugs, and halfway houses. It means Wawa coffee and hoagies. In Vineland, it means Arroz con Gandules and Pernil and the Puerto Rican festival, the Greek festival, the Russian festival. It's not all good stuff, that's true. But it's not North Jersey.

North Jersey is yuppies and pharmaceutical companies and towns that all have the same name.

Anyway, just wanted to vent a little. It's not "Joisey". We don't talk like that.

Why I believe in Jesus

I learned something really good from John Calvin as I was flying to America the other day. He says that no one can be convinced that the Bible is true unless the Holy Spirit convinces them. Sometimes I have thought, "what if someone asks me why do I believe in Jesus as opposed to believing in something/someone else or not believing in anything at all." This has given me a little trouble because I can't give any convincing arguments. I'm not an intellectual or an apologist. I'm basically one of those people who are described in I Corinthians 1:18-31. And as I look again at that passage, I see that Paul and Calvin are using the same argument: "those whom God has called". I believe because God has called me. Because God called me, He has convinced me through His spirit. That's basically it. If someone believes, they believe on account of God's Spirit convincing them. If someone does not believe, they haven't been taught by the Spirit to believe. It just comes down to that. In chapter seven of book one of The Institutes of the Christian Religion, Calvin says "the only true faith is that which the Spirit of God seals on our hearts. Nay, the modest and teachable reader will find a sufficient reason in the promise contained in Isaiah, that all the children of the renovated Church 'shall be taught of the Lord' (Isaiah liv. 13)." I love that!

Calvin closed this chapter with this: "If at any time, then, we are troubled at the small number of those who believe, let us, on the other hand, call to mind, that none comprehend the mysteries of God save those to whom it is given."

Michael's in the Air Right Now

Or taking off or landing. He's coming home, but it's a several plane-changes affair. By my calculations, he hasn't quite crossed the border yet. That boy is coming back to America and albeit we still won't be in the same time zone, at least he won't be waking up when I'm going to bed or vice-versa. I couldn't have done this for all of the last year. Transatlanticism (transpacificism?) sucks. Transprovincialism (transstatalism?) is hard enough.

Anyway, I'm like the Jack's Mannequin song, counting down the hours and the minutes that he is not here. So pilot keep it steady, because every inch of me is bruised.

Four-Way Stops

I am back in Vineland, New Jersey, home of Welch's Grape Juice, RC Cola, the Dandelion Wine Festival, and about a decade of my childhood.

It's not as weird being back as I thought it might be. I am, admittedly, a little disoriented but for the most part I'm finding my way about. There is however, a thing of wonder I want to share with all of you. This thing that amazes me the most, that for me has become the great symbol of American...American-ness is the four way stop.

My mom was driving my uncle to the church where he's getting married on Saturday to try to catch the pastor (which is another great story but for another post) and I was in the back seat zoning out the way jet-lagged people do. But then it happened. We came up to a four-way stop. We were the third car to arrive at the intersection. First the man to the left pulled through the intersection. Then the man opposite us, who had arrived seconds after the first man and seconds before us, pulled through. Then we did.

My jaw dropped. I was speechless. And I wondered that the American people allow themselves to be governed by a large, red, octagonal piece of metal.

You see, in the Great Country Across the Sea, the right of way belongs to the person who believes it's his right of way. I've sat in intersections for 20 minutes before because everyone, in all four directions, decided to move into the intersection despite the red light, and we are all inch by inch battling to move through. Once, stuck on a bus in such a predicament, I watched a police man watch the traffic. The look on his face said, "I'll just sit on the hood of my car and wait this one out, because there's no way I'm going to convince 6 bus drivers and 50 motorists that they don't have the right of way on this one."

But the American people, being deeply ingrained with the weight of the law from birth, have all agreed that if there is a large, red, octagonal piece of metal, that they should and will abide by it's command.

And I think that's awesome.

I think I forgot to mention...

That I'm on my way home. On the train.

It's going to go like this: WH to BJ to Ulan Batar (Mongolia) to Irkutsk (Russia) to Moscow (Russia) to Warsaw (Poland) to Berlin (Germany) to Paris (France) to London (England) all by train. We took the Chinese train to Beijing, then the Trans-Mongolian and are now on the Trans-Siberian. Then we'll get on the Eurorail system. Then fly home.

We left WH June 28th, and we'll leave London July 17. I'll land in Philly at about 4pm on the 17th.

Yesterday, we went to the largest freshwater lake in the world, Lake Baikal. It's about an hour and a half east of Irkutsk. The thing that I found myself most affected by during my time in Big Red was the lack of open spaces and the lack of places to go to be alone. That lake was like a release for me for me after all that time. (I remember once in Thailand I got up in the middle of the night to go to the roof of our hotel to sit and be alone. But I was still in the middle of a great big city, the view of the mountains in the distance blocked by smog.)

The sky was a clear blue and the ridge of the mountain was a sharp outline against the sky. Where the mountains ended there was a "range" of big, billowy clouds white like fresh milk or clean teeth or bleached sheets... The water was a deep blue, except where it lapped up on the rocky beach where it was clear as glass.

We sat on the rocks for a good hour, playing with the rocks and talking, enjoying the sun. It was nice to not be serious, to laugh and play like children completely worry free. It was safe and happy and uninterrupted in a way that I haven't experienced in a long time. If ever.

When we were in Beijing, we stopped in a small park outside the Forbidden City. We laid in the grass a while, but then a guard came and clapped at us and very sternly said, "No."

There were no such incidents at Lake Baikal.

Insight from the fathers

"Although our mind cannot conceive of God, without rendering some worship to him, it will not, however, be sufficient simply to hold that he is the only being whom all ought to worship and adore, unless we are also persuaded that he is the fountain of all goodness, and that we must seek everything in him, and none but him. My meaning is: we must be persuaded not only that as he once formed the world, so he sustains it by his boundless power, governs it by his wisdom, preserves it by his goodness, in particular, rules the human race with justice and judgment, bears with them in mercy, shields them by his protection; but also that not a particle of light, or wisdom, or justice, or power, or rectitude, or genuine truth, will anywhere be found, which does not flow from him, and of which he is not the cause; in this way we must learn to expect and ask all things from him, and thankfully ascribe to him whatever we receive."
-John Calvin
Institutes of the Christian Religion
chapter II, section I

Things I will miss about this place (or at least think they were interesting enough to blog about)

Poor farmers with nice cell phones

Many people here don't have a landline but they have a cell phone. I'll see peasants doing dirty manual labor either here in town or out in the countryside and the minute I start to think they must not have any worldly possessions, they reach in their pocket to answer their cell phone. One thing about the idea of cell phones in this country is that it works very well with Chinese people's lifestyles. People here do not plan very far in advance for anything and most events are planned and happen at the last minute. As a groom and bride are standing outside a restaurant greeting their wedding guests, they'll also be on the phone inviting and reminding people to come to their wedding. No matter what the occasion is and no matter how many times I invite others to come, I still need to call up my friends on the day of. People here change their plans all the time and are constantly moving. There's not much of a concept of hanging out with friends in one place. After 30 minutes, everyone migrates to another's house or club or whatever. After 30 minutes of that, more migration. Shops and restaurants and businesses open and close and change location all the time. There's no such thing as an answering machine here. Maybe they exist in other parts of this country but they are nowhere to be found here. Locals think I'm weird because I didn't have a cell phone until I was 24 and that was in this country. They ask, "how are people supposed to get a hold of you when you don't have a cell phone?" I say, "that's the beauty of it. Everyday when I came home I got to check my answering machine. It was like Christmas." I'm not against cell phones. In fact, my cell phone has made my life here so much easier and its actually been life saving on several occasions. One thing I have been wondering for the last few years is this: What came first.....the cell phone or the lifestyle?

"Have it your way" doesn't exist over here

Service in this country works just like this and I certainly feel Jerry's frustration. In fact, I've had confrontations that played out just like this one from Seinfeld.

The shorts that got stained were too hot anyway

shoes caked with mud + walking down a poorly made set of cement steps + stream of water flowing down the steps = michael eating it

eating it -> muddy butt -> village kids having a good laugh

Mango Says Goodbye Sometimes

Among my favorite books is The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. I have a lot of identity issues, having immigrated to the US when I was seven and being ambiguously ethnic in appearance, having traversed the range of social classes, having moved at least 20 times in my lifetime...Being 20-something and American. Anyway, I think The House on Mango Street appeals to me because that little girls speaks to the same experience. So I get her, and even though she's not real, I feel like she gets me--or rather she would if she were a real person.

The last chapter in the book is called "Mango Says Goodbye Sometimes" and the little girl is coming of age and moving away from Mango Street to fulfill all her ambitions. And even though she hated being poor and Mexican in the ghettos of Chicago, she realizes that sometimes you have to go away to come back to help those who don't.

When I moved to Iowa, I thought about that a lot. Going away to come back. Vineland, New Jersey is not a place I ever really want to "come back" to. Sure, come see family and friends, come see the ocean, but not come back. And when I left Iowa, I told the people at my club, "I want this to be the place I am sent from." Not that I would "come back" to Ames and settle down, but that I would come back and check in and hang out. But it's not the same like Mango, where you come back to help those who can't (don't) leave.

And now, I'm 6 days from leaving the apartment on the sixth floor with the tilted steps and no running water 13 of 24 hours a day. And I'm thinking about Mango saying goodbye sometimes. I'm certainly not from here the way I am from Jersey or Iowa, but I think about my sad little students asking, "Why do foreign teachers always leave after one or two years?"

In all honesty, I probably will not come back to this job at this school in this city. Actually, if I can keep from it, I think I'd be a happier person (teaching English is not fun for me)... But those sad little faces that don't understand break my heart.

Mango says goodbye sometimes.

[I said goodbye to some good friends this morning. But I'll be seeing them stateside.]

The Central China Furnace

They call this city the Chicago of China, because of it's geographic location, but there is little else to compare to the Windy City. I've never been to Chicago in the summer, but I have a feeling its citizens don't experience this kind of draining, humid heat.

I woke up three times last night because I was too hot. I woke up two other times because I hate sleeping with the air conditioner on. So about every hour or so, I'd wake up to either turn on or turn off the AC.

They say the reason for the heat is the large number of lakes surrounded in the Yangtze river valley, which is surrounded by large mountain ranges. The water in the lakes gets hot, and the heat has no where to go except the air. And as the summer days go by, the heat and the humidity rise until locals can't bear wearing clothes anymore. Men roll up their shirts to expose their bellies and women wear mesh night gowns out to do their vegetable shopping.

I have a theory (one I am sure my anthro professors from college would NOT support, given it is completely based on speculation) is that the culture here is largely affected by the heat. I can feel voices getting louder, people getting impatient, workers getting careless as the temperature rises. Like the humours in the bodies of the locals begin to boil and the constraints of society imposed by the cheerfully written propaganda banners become irrelevant. I can see it in their eyes: "I'm hot and I will take this bus and I don't care if anyone else needs to get on." I don't blame them, I get the same way. I've noticed that I've started picking fights more and more with folk who don't move to the back of the bus after boarding or who stare at foreigners in restaurants.

My apartment doesn't have running water during most of the day (only available from 6a-9a, 12p-2p, and 5p-11p), so my water usage schedule has been deeply affected over the last year. I came home yesterday at about 4 to take a shower before meeting a friend at 5. I'd spent most of the day at Starbucks working on grades, but between the walk to Starbucks that morning, the walk to lunch to get lunch at a small restaurant, the walk back to Starbucks, and the walk home from Starbucks, I'd managed to sweat through my jean cut-offs and my tank top, completely soaking the back and straps of my backpack. Being so thoroughly drenched and convinced that I also thoroughly stank, I came home to take that shower. Except it wasn't five yet, so my water supply was markedly low. But I insisted, and I took a shower in a small stream of ice cold water. And it was awesome. I have never before been so hot that taking an ice cold shower sounded like good idea. But as my body cooled, I began to feel a little less like I was a small, shriveling bean sprout and a little more like a real human being with a will and capacity to accomplish things.

I'm not quite sure how I survived the summer heat last year. I am looking forward to the Jersey shore and the cool Atlantic breeze.

Does money talk? Part II

"A bribe is a charm to the one who gives it; wherever he turns, he succeeds." Proverbs 17:8

My school has two campuses. They are both on the southeast side of town, but the "old" campus is a ten minute walk from the longest pedestrian shopping street in the world (it's really just a huge mall), while the new campus is on a broken down country road, surrounded by factories and clay houses. I live on the old campus, but teach on the new campus so I have to take the commuter bus (like the orange line at ISU!) to and from the new campus 20 minutes each way.

It used to be that the bus turned south from the old campus and followed one of the major avenues until we reached the highway. At the highway, he'd turn east, ride the highway for about 5 minutes (like getting on HWY 30 in Ames) and get off at the road for our school, which was at an intersection with the highway. (No clover leaf on-ramps. It's a normal intersection; you just go for it.) But about two weeks ago, the road was closed. (I have a fun city-bus story involving that closed road, and if you want to hear it I'll tell it, but not today--the set up for this post is already taking too long...)

So now, the bus has to take one of those major avenues south of the highway and down the road a ways, the circle back around through what seem to me driveways for those big companies/factories that are out there, adding ten minutes to the drive.

On the way to class a couple days ago, I was reading my NT in English and the woman sitting next to me leaned over and said, "Excuse me, are you a foreign English teacher?"

"Yes."

"Oh. When you first got on the bus, I wasn't sure, but then I saw you were reading the book, and I thought, 'maybe'."

We talked a while about English major students versus non-major students and the difficulties in teaching large numbers of engineering students about adjectival word order. And then we came to that intersection between the highway and the avenue we were heading south on. And I asked, "Why is the road closed, do you know?"

She chuckled a bit and said, "Some people guess--and it's just a guess--that the locals that live on that street couldn't pay enough money to the government so they failed to keep it open. The reason we were all told is that it's not safe for the city road to intersect the highway. But I am sure it has something to do with money."

So yeah. Instead of a 20 minute commute to my new campus, I have a 30 minute commute because there are large piles of dirt and a guard rail at the intersection directly leading to my school. All because money (bribes) talks (bring success).

[For those of you who want to know what happened to that stand up stand talk to a stranger activity I did with my students, they complained the whole time that it was embarrassing and uncomfortable and that I didn't give them enough time. And when we did it again the next week, one girl hid in the curtains instead of participate in the activity. I found her and she was mortified to get caught. I told her, "You are more embarrassed now than you would have been if you had just done the activity." She agreed.]

mewithoutYou

On my first day here in this country, my roommate for the next year and a half and who I had just met the night before, gave me his ear buds (maybe it was just one so that he could listen too) to his discman and what I heard for the next few minutes was interesting.  I can't say that I liked it but it was definitely interesting.  What I heard that day was the song "Silencer" from the album A-->B: Life by mewithoutYou.  

A few months later, my roommate (who turns out to be a huge fan of this unique group) downloaded their new album Catch for Us the Foxes.  Songs like "January 1979", "My Exit, Unfair", "Four Word Letter Pt. 2", and "Torches Together" had me hooked.  In no time I was in love with the whole album and a fan of mewithoutYou.

I loved how the lyrics were beautifully poetic and brutally honest.  I loved how the music was artistically creative.  Maybe there are people that, when they give mewithoutYou a listen, all they hear is hard music and shouting.  But when I listen to them, I hear a group of young men who are making something artistic.

In late 2006, my old roommate, who had been back in America for a year, came back for a visit and when he came he gave me the new album, Brother, Sister.  I immediately loved the song "A Glass Can Only Spill What It Contains".  Over time the rest of the album grew on me and some of my favorites are "Messes of Men", "C-Minor", "O, Porcupine" and "In a Sweater Poorly Knit".  

I write this to say thank you to mewithoutYou for making great music.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apvKxyR6Vzs

I. Hate. Worrying.

But I do it all the time.  Anxiety is something that can take a hold of me and have me feeling like I'm rolled up in a ball on top of a high wall...shaking, knowing that someone or something can easily push me off.  

About two weeks ago I told Elena that I was feeling anxious about things and she encouraged me a whole lot and reminded me of some truths.  Less than two days later at a Sunday meeting (something that I didn't prepare by the way) we listened to a sermon on Matthew 6:24-34 - "Don't Be Anxious".  

Last week at my Sunday meeting, one of the brothers chose to sing the song "Seek Ye First".

Yesterday, June 4th, I read the Oswald Chambers My Utmost For His Highest devotional, but I didn't read the right one.  I mistakenly read the July 4th one titled "One of God's Great 'Don'ts'" and the "don't" here is about fretting.  

Today's devotional, "God's Assurance" is about how "my assurance is to be built upon God's assurance to me.  God says, 'I will never leave you,' so that then I 'may boldly say, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not fear''" (Heb 13:5-6).

All that to say, although it seems that there's a lot to worry about, I shouldn't. Rather, I should be assured by Father's assurance that He'll never leave me nor forsake me and I should seek first His kingdom and His righteousness. 

If you want to read those two devotionals, go to the link below and select July 4 and June 5 on the calendar on the left.

http://www.rbc.org/utmost/index.php

Does money talk?

That's the title of Unit 7 in the New Horizons College English textbook we're working through in my class tonight. Last week, one of my students complained that I don't give them enough time to talk in class. Now, I love it when students say this to me because (1) I'm the teacher, I finished my bachelor's, I sat through several ESL trainings, I have been teaching now for three semesters and (2) When I ask them to talk they sit and stare at their desks or fiddle with their phones. So as I planned my lesson this week, I wondered to myself, "What can I do this week to give them more opportunities to talk. So I'm going to do something that I am pretty sure will fail, but just so that they know that I tried, I'm going to try.

I'm going to ask them to get up from their desks, move around, and talk to a class mate they've never talked to before. Hm. In the word of guanxi, I wonder if it's possible for a foreign teacher to enter the room and mix-it-up.

And not only that, we are going to discuss the topic that is at the center of every Chinese students' heart: money money money.

At the beginning of a new year, I ask my students to introduce themselves by thinking of a sentence that says, "My name is ---- and I like ----", where their name and the thing they like begin with the same first letter. For example, "My name is Ellie and I like Easter." You'd be surprised how many students answer, "My name is Melody (or Maria or Mark or Michael or Mina or Minnie) and I like Money."

So we'll see how tonight goes.

The object that is most worthy of my affections

"How common is it among mankind, that their affections are much more exercised and engaged in other matters than in religion!......How insensible and unmoved are most men about the great things of another world!  How dull are their affections!  How heavy and hard their hearts in these matters!  Here their love is cold, their desires languid, their zeal low, and their gratitude small.  How they can sit and hear of the infinite height, and depth, and length, and breadth of the love of God in Christ Jesus, of His giving His infinitely dear Son, to be offered up a sacrifice for the sins of men, and of the unparalleled love of the innocent, and holy, and tender Lamb of God, manifested in His dying agonies, His bloody sweat, His loud and bitter cries, and bleeding heart, and all this for enemies, to redeem them from deserved, eternal burnings, and to bring to unspeakable and everlasting joy and glory -- and yet be cold and heavy, insensible and regardless!  Where are the exercises of our affections proper, if not here?......If we ought ever to exercise our affections at all, then they ought to be exercised about those objects which are most worthy of them."

I read this the other day in Jonathan Edwards' Religious Affections and it strikes a chord with me.  The same chord is struck when I read David's words in Psalm 27:4 "One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple" and when I read Asaph's words in Psalm 73:25 "Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you"  and when I read of Paul's affectionate passion for Jesus when he says, "I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.  I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him..." (Phil 3:8-9).  

That chord...

that chord that delivers up a sweet and unfamiliar sound to my soul...

that's the chord that's being played when I read these ideas (or, rather, this one great idea!) of God filling me with joyful emotions that are stronger than any of the happy emotions that I've ever had. 

This chord...

this chord that's finally being played in me...

this chord is worth turning the volume up to the highest level and singing (the way that Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou sings) to every pitiful pleasure, "Apart from God I have no good thing/ He makes my heart glad/ He gives me fulfilling joy/ He gives me eternal pleasures!" (Ps 16)

The week I met Elena

On a warm day in February 2008, I sat down to have lunch in a cafe.  A few minutes later, a group of people who I had met that week (Elena was in this group) and of whom are my friends now came in and invited me to eat with them.  During lunch, I told them about how the night before I had gone out to eat with some folks of whom one or two were linguists.  Then I told my friends that I thought linguists are fascinating people.  Right after that, one or two of them (maybe the whole table) said, "You need to talk to Elena.  She studies linguistics and talks about it all the time."  

So, Elena and I have kept in touch and after getting to know her I can say that I think Elena's a pretty fascinating person (and linguist) herself.