A String of Job-Moments

First of all, let me apologize to you folks, my would-be faithful blog readers.  It's not that God hasn't been faithful to me in Chile, he has... and more, but I haven't made time to record all of the little things and all of my little adventures as I should have.  I promise to try and catch up as I come back and reflect on everything that has happened here.  The statement still stands.  God has paved my path to Chile and successfully made my way down here and all he has asked me to do is to seek him as he reveals his purpose for calling me down here.  Was it an escape from Biology?  I had hoped.  Was it an escape from boy drama?  I had hoped on both sides of that debate...  Was he going to teach me about myself?  Yeah, yeah... thank you, Epicenter, advise me about how I'm going to grow one more time and I might just stop believing you (my apologies to those who put their time into thoughtful pre-study abroad preparation, you really did give me a great stepping stone).  I came down here looking for God and being open to what he might show me and believing that he would show me something, but I also came down here sarcastic, numb, and giving a little more than lip-service to things that I could recognize as God and trying to figure out what they could mean, but I also came down here with the voice of the adversary very strongly in my ear.
In the time that it took this morning to skip my 'Lectura de los Salmos' class, a class that is supposedly supposed to teach me about the Bible,  I sat down to write an email to a scholar-friend of mine who had just finished his Master's thesis.  An email that turned into God answering my soul-quest of the past three to maybe even eight years.  He has answered painful questions I have chosen to ignore and even barely voiced to my mom, hoping that they would go away, and even at times wondering if I had a demon living inside me.  The enemy had put an unintentional wall between me an my dad that I've been trying to ignore.  This past Sunday, he had reached an UGLY point in my soul where I'd been doubting my very faith and my Messiah College education all in one as many of us do.  Before I left I had felt like I had outgrown Messiah and had even been sarcastic about out lack of diversity and other things that I called a 'lack' of something before looking at the true abundance of programming and blessings we do have.  I had allowed myself to believe some of the hateful things that some alumni or transfer-outs have said about the community or credibility of Messiah as an institution, or even some of the things that have come up about students losing their faith before graduating (all the while testifying to the beautiful parts of Messiah in my job as a campus tour guide, which I also still believed in).  The truth is, I was honestly just a step away from becoming one of them, form cursing the institution that was feeding me and spurring me on to 'maturity of intellect, character, and Christian faith.'  I was full and empty.  I was lost and found.  I was secure and seeking.  I had both forgiven and remained bitter.

Every word of my blog up to now is authentic, don't get me wrong, but it has been a huge, masked struggle on the edge of two extremes, I was being blessed with leadership, but at the same time I was trying to figure out my own place.  My battle started in early high school with the question 'What do you want to do with your life?'  Thankfully, God has made that clear, along with my college choice senior year of high school and I have correctly chalked staying in Biology up to being obedience, but it's much more than that.  Satan wanted me to believe that my parents had forced me into my major and he wanted me to question not only my Messiah decision, something that he had been SO clear about, but my very belief in God.  He had used the lie that my college decision and my choice of major were just pleasing my parents to allow me to believe that my very faith was just something that came from my parents and their 'Christian college experience,' and even in finding themselves in Eastern's own version of 'Ring before Spring.'  Was I failing at the game my parents had won?  Where was my perfect Chirstian colege soul mate?  Was I a bad Christian because I hadn't been earned the Res Life stamp of approval to influence the personal lives of others?  Why was I seeking validation in men and leadership rolls anyway?  Why had God denied me things that I SWORE I wanted?  What about the desires of my heart?  Where was my heart may have been a better question.  I thought I knew it, I thought I knew me, but God had clearly sent me to study abroad when I told him I would be an RA or study abroad sooner and he clearly had not sent me any of the guys I had all but chased after.  Seriously, God... I've liked the same guy since freshman year and in that time he's had not one but TWO 'perfect Messiah girlfriends?!?'  Where did this air of entitlement come from?  Who owed me anything?  What was causing this insecurity?  How much of this insecurity had been fueled by a person in authority telling me that I was insecure and he could see it?

This is getting really long and I actually want you to read it, so let me give you a baby bit of background, I participated in a new-found friend's research for his Master's back in January before leaving for Wisconsin and he sent me his thesis (like 230 pages) today because I had asked to read it when he finished.  This is beside the point, but surprisingly enough, he too has an uncanny connection between Spanish and stewardship.  I was going to read it later, but I couldn't help myself because he told me he had quoted me.  What was he looking at?  'Green' formations and the foundation for 'Christian Environmental Stewardship' on Christian College campuses and he had been given my name as a possible interviewee through some connections I had.  All this had happened right about the time the backpacker article had come out (http://danika-adventuresinchile.blogspot.com/2011/01/hike-pray-protest.html).  I had felt really so convicted, in fact, that at that time I had even written a letter to KP, Kim Phipps, the President of Messiah, about these convictions, sort of realizing that I was dropping a bomb on her desk as I left for study abroad.  In reading part of Todd's conclusions, God was working on some MAJOR revelations in my heart that NEEDED to surface.

Even in my side trip back to the states that I mention here and may have to fill some of you in on later, a weekend in Alaska for my Aunt Bec's wedding in the middle of study abroad, I had questioned that seeing my family three months in would mess up my 'study abroad experience' and that I might not be able to divine any meaning from this time that was supposedly one of the most formative times of my life.  I had not found a Chilean identity like the famous Shaina.  I didn't miss my family as much as I probably should have, and I did not have a Chilean boyfriend like even Sarah, (YOUR experience will be YOUR experience) had found because I had only sort of surrendered my lack of dating life to God and my search for identity within the context of study abroad over to God.  I only sort of believed, or believed but not WHOLEHEARTEDLY believed that God was and is working for my good.  Even in my devos in Romans about being called by God and not being able to change that call, I was like... WHAT IF I'M NOT REALLY BEING CALLED BY GOD?  What if it's in my head?  What if God is only a concept in my head?   I was bawling like a baby at the wedding because I finally allowed myself to conclude that Aunt Bec's wedding was truly a thing of the Holy Spirit even though I had already testified to it over and over again as I told her story to others, my head knowledge was still trying to test my heart knowledge, still trying to find a fault in my new Uncle Brad to say that God wasn't 100% in charge.  I wanted an excuse to chase after boys instead of actually believing in the worth of waiting for God to show you 'the one' and even that there might be more than 'the one' or there might be more than 'one' plan of God.  I'm still working on where I stand on that topic, but I know that trust in God must prevail over all things.  The actual wedding was so beautiful and so obviously of God that that's why I couldn't stop crying.  Like Lizzy in Pride and Prejudice, I had been wrong about the Mr. Darcy of my soul (Jesus), I had been SO WRONG.

With that said, I thank God for his grace and for not giving up on me, however blockheaded, stubborn, and willing to be independent I am.

Here's my email to Todd, which includes some conclusions and thought process.  Right now, I feel like Paul writing to the early church.  God has just blown my mind.  He has just erased YEARS of doubts in one morning and given purpose to my study abroad, my relationship with my parents, family heritage, the connection between passion and career/ future career, my time at Messiah, and my faith, above all.
In my walk, I'm back to feeling.  I don't associate words like blind, simple, and ignorant with faith in my mind (where Satan had been leading my doubts just this week) anymore, I can't.  I had told God that I wanted to be moved to tears by the Holy Spirit again and I had been waiting on him to fulfill that, now, here it is.  I warn you, this is the authentic soul of Danika here:



Wow, Todd!
I am blown away with the similarities that you were able to draw from the interviews!  I knew we (the 'green college students') were a different breed of people, but I never realized how similar we are to each other.  I mean, I can Identify with all of the topics that they mentioned but I didn't.  It's a very valuable point that we have had perhaps a longer time to ponder all of the themes, and I would agree that It was more difficult for me to pick just a  few examples to answer your questions.  For example, Although I didn't mention it to you, I LOVED Little House on the Prairie, where as, I'm very 'new' the the Wendell Berry train, having just met him my freshman year while I was in DC for Powershift (okay, stereotype me as a radical, but that's where my 'friends in my on campus club' influence took me my freshman year... although maybe we all need to feed that 'radical' side to keep us going). 
I'm so glad that you quoted Cal DeWitt.  I love him.  I suppose that I've really been spoiled if you look at my AuSable childhood.  I'm just now realizing that my dad's colleagues, those who inspired him as a student and who he later worked for, the founders and professors of AuSable, are really all the forefathers of Christian Environmental Education movement.  I spent three summers as a child living in Cal DeWitt's basement.  Joe Sheldon, if you know him, knew my parents before they were even dating, and I would even say he's like an uncle or grandpa to me (and educationally in some ways, a 'father' of my thought processes).  I call both Joe and Cal by their first names and even now, with the articles we have to read for class, or looking at my shelf where sits, 'Redeeming Creation; the Biblical Basis for Environmental Stewardship,'  its neat to be able to look at authors and reflect on my time spent with them in the innocence of a child, not realizing that these people were shaping not only my life, but a movement.  Did you know that Cal DeWitt helped in the editing of the 'Green Bible?' 
What a growing process to rediscover the values of my parents and the 'bricks' that they helped to put in my 'house'  are really common threads that we all share!  I guess it's part of my self-revelation and self-discovery as I search for what I'm going to do with my bio degree that I really cannot escape.  I really struggle with staying in Bio as my major and what I'm going to do with my degree, but God continually shows me that it's obedience and that his plan has always been NOT to change my major as many times as I have wanted to.  I keep finding myself coming back to the common strands I have with my parents.  I have really questioned if I picked my major because of them or because of me, but reading your thesis has really helped me to realize that they're just a piece of my formation.  As much credit or blame as I'd love to give them, it's just a glimmer of what God has been reveling to me it my past 21 years.  I really can't help myself, valuing what they value, noticing the foundations they've laid for me, but is more than having something in common with my immediate parents, I'm really realizing that I too am a child of a movement.  I have been born into an idea set.  My 'house' has all kinds of bricks in from all different 'people' and revelations of the Holy Spirit.  I don't usually stop to examine all the little details of its walls of the 'house of my formation,' but I guess for me, my conquest for that 'self-identity,' figuring out what I truly value and what beliefs are mine and what are my parents' has really helped me to even see the cliché 'it takes a village to raise a child.'  It takes a seed to start a movement.  It takes kindred spirits, like kindling to keep it going, but it takes individuals to own it.

Wow, sorry!  I only intended to send you an email and this is becoming really personal, but God also just reminded me of my devo journey through the Old Testament.  Even Israel struggled with personal and spiritual identity.  Even Israel questioned ideas that weren't of the Holy Spirit to determine which ideas were truly of God, and even Israel had to break down the idea of the 'god of her fathers,' 'of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob' before truly owning her personal relationship with God as his 'chosen people.'  For the Israelites as for many middle eastern cultures, the genealogy stuff in the OT was what gave them their legitimacy.  Here I've been fighting it, loving being called a 'Daddy's girl,' but also wondering if doing what pleased my parents was the 'easy path' or my roll as the typical oldest child.   Here I was, about to graduate college next year and wondering what part of my degree I had 'owned' on my own free will, and how I would fit my passion (if I even had any passion anymore) in my life post-study abroad, post taking biology (my personal struggle), out of my life to focus on Spanish, my other degree, for a semester.  Honestly, I've been struggling with even my faith lately and reconciling my Christian education with my Christian formation and trying to decide what part of my faith is personal and purely authentic.  I've struggled with what to do with all my head knowledge and where it applied to my heart knowledge, a struggle that many students from my college give up on, don't fight, and say that my school has been too liberal, hasn't given them enough answers, and decided to leave the faith because their experience had been to 'difficult.'   No, no, that hasn't been it at all for me...
Recently, Satan has been throwing the beautiful phrase 'the faith of out fathers' in my face, mockingly and trying to break down my personal identity as a Christ follower, trying to eat away at my personal convictions, trying to blur my memory of when God has come through to me personally time and time again, like acid, corroding the things I KNOW to be true, the things I have tested, the times he has stepped in and showed me his absolutely unfailing love and faithfulness.  'Obedience, Danika, obedience,' he's tried to assure me even by giving me little things like the confirmation of my summer job this past week after clarifying with him that I was done worrying about it and had finally decided that I needed to surrender it to him.  Like Job, I'm always getting caught up in the little pieces, the 'God, what if...' Like Job, God calls me out into nature to show me the hugeness of mountains, he calls me out of my comfort to realize his perfect strength, and he gives me the little things that I ask for, like a child begging for candy before dinner, to help guide me on to trying to see the bigger pieces.  Just as Job couldn't understand the vastness of salvation and the God's whole plan, sometimes the only thing we are left with is trust.  Sometimes the only thing we are left with are the failed plans, like broken toys, that we destroy without seeking God first, that we continually scoop up and hold up to him, saying, 'Daddy fix it.'  Like all of the prophesies of the OT that God used to PROVE that Jesus was his son (that we still choose to say are coincidence), like all of the miracles of Jesus that we still try to rationalize with science, which by the way is just our interpretation of God's world, we still 'pull a Job' because God is just THAT much bigger than our understanding.
Oh, wow, sorry again, this is getting super long.  I didn't really intend to answer your thesis with a dissertation of my own.  God has sent you to me at a perfect time (with the interview timing right before my study abroad and your finished research now as I'm starting to question what I have learned in the bigger picture here in Chile), and I am once again amazed by his perfect will and plan, his perfect assurance.  'Blessed assurance, Jesus IS mine!'
Thanks, Todd.  You have just been used by God to help me in my string of Job moments.
God bless you!
Danika



God just keeps leading me to Matthew 6:33, definitely my Chile theme.
SEEK YE FIRST THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
Blesses ASSURANCE, Jesus is mine.  Blessed assurance, Jesus IS mine... Blessed assurance, Jesus is MINE!
Amen and Amen!

Marriage Licence

(Written around March 11)

“Seek ye first the Kingdom of God…”

Fridays in Chile, or at least for our school tend to be a day of relaxing with little to no scheduled things and what is scheduled is pretty strictly in the morning with the rest of the day free.  Our first Friday in Vina was very important.  We went down to our government to start the process of getting out Chilean ID’s.

We arrived at 8:00 to make a line outside of the office even though it didn’t open until 8:30.  By 8:30, however, there was a line more than a block long to get into the small office.  Inside, it looked like the room of the DMV where you go to get a new license plate.  There were desks on 3 out of 4 sides and a reel where everyone had to take a number before waiting to be called.  There were, of course, babies crying, impatient people waiting, and us, a pack of semi-dazed Gringos who had woken up early after a PACKED, dizzying week of orientation and talking to our families (Chilean and Estadiounidense, the Spanish and more politically correct word for citizens of the Unite States, since we’re technically all “Americans”).

As we waited to have our pictures taken at this horrifying time of the morning and our fingerprints taken once again, my mind drifted, and so did my eyes.  I took notes on the people I saw: young, old, families, singles, and tired people, some happy, most impatient.  And the people I especially enjoyed watching were those in line for their marriage license.  How happy they were, how young, and how dependent on one other they looked.

God had already begun working on my heat by this point.  With the Aunt Bec’s engagement and the beauty that came of her waiting, with not one but two sermons about the lover relationship we are supposed to have with God,  the themes of faithfulness, purity, and dependence had already begun swimming around in my head.  Even in talking to my host mom and hearing her testimony and what she calls her “fracaso matrimonial” or, literally, marital failure, I’m realizing that marriage is even more beautiful and even more scary than I had ever really imagined.  My relationship with God is even more beautiful and profound than I can even try to aim for, but then there’s grace, as in a marriage between two people, compromise.   Compromise is actually the closest word that we have in English to “engaged” in Spanish.  How much more beautiful is “compromiso” than some word that sounds as if we are ready to shoot a gun or a cannon.  We’re “engaged,” the bullet is “engaged,” the United States is “engaged” in a dispute over foreign policy, Bill Clinton “engaged” in some relations with that Monica lady.

“…and HIS righteousness…”

God is already whispering in my ear.  He’s got secrets to tell me, and sweet nothings to share.  I just hope that I can be giddy over my relationship with Jesus and remember to allow him to be the man in the relationship.  He’s at the helm.  He makes the plans.  He loves me already for who I am, not who I try to be during group orientations.  It breaks his heart to watch me seek after the love of a man without first letting him define pure, prefect, fairytale love the way he designed it.

It doesn’t matter if the man-interest I left at Messiah is recently “with girlfriend.”  It doesn’t matter that I’ve never had a real boyfriend or that I don’t have any prospects.  I didn’t come to Chile to find my husband, either (even if that might be a secret and unfounded desire).  The fact that I even have to “like” someone at all times is rubbish.  God has every intention to romance me this semester and I’m acknowledging that here in public for a little accountability.  I want to be giddy for God.  I want to long for God the way he designed me to.  What good is a Christmas present if you’ve already peeked?  What good is searching and finding a boyfriend who is wrong and won’t last when in the meantime I can can grow in God and trust him to provide?  Isn’t God as big and as powerful, and even more, than I claim he is?

“…and all these things shall be added onto you.”

Language Gap

(Written around March 3)

folkloric dancers, welcome program for international students

One thing that struck me from the beginning, even before my fascination with windows is the idea of communicating in Spanish, my second language, with someone who it in the same boat, someone who also speaks Spanish as a second language, but who does not share English as their first language.

When you start learning Spanish as a child, you learn the 20 countries and capitols of the countries that have Spanish as their national language.  You start dreaming; maybe my Spanish will take me to Tegucigalpa.  No, maybe I’ll go to Mexico, Guatemala, Peru, or Ecuador, maybe even Chile.  Next, you learn vocabulary to talk about an experience in a market, buying wool sweaters on the slopes of Macchu Picchu.  You learn to say Chichicastenango and pledge to go there just to say the word, never you mind, the locals just call it ChiChi or something like that.  Never, however do you think about the other children starting Spanish in other parts of the world who might be thinking the exact same thing.

I do remember thinking, unfairly, what if I saw an Asian person speaking Spanish, or what about an African person who had learned Chinese or Japanese… I imagine thinking how strange that would be.  Isn’t it just as strange for me to be speaking Spanish?  Sure, It’s the language of my neighbor country, heck it’s almost the language of my neighbor county, but it’s not my language.  It’s not the language of my ancestors (German, Irish, English), but it’s hardly different than someone from Asia learning the language of their neighbors on the other side of the Pacific….

What’s been EVEN cooler to me this week (international orientation week), though, and even my first day has been to talk to other students from Germany, Denmark, Ireland, Mexico, and other countries that I have only read about by speaking Spanish.  Everyone here has had to work at learning Spanish.  Our orientation program, like our classes was purely in Spanish as that was the best guess at the language that all of us would understand probably equally.  

Dancing with one of the Folk-dancers during our orientation welcome program

Even out of the Chileans that are already here, there are differences in languages taught in the schools.  There are British Schools, Arabic Schools, Argentinean Schools, and many more.  Even passing shops here that sell Arabic food like shwarma have really helped to put me in my place as just another foreigner.  It’s not really that special to come from the United States. In Latin America, it’s almost less special because of some of out poor choices in foreign policy, but that’s another blog…  

The history of the world, like humanity is flawed and we’re all just trying to find our place.  It was really cool, though to talk to a German boy, who knows the city in Germany where my mother was born, but to talk about it in Spanish.  More windows than I could possibly imagine have been opened through Spanish!

Click to see more pictures of orientation

Caught up in the, "He said, she said"

(Written Feb 13)

“You will be tired; you will be very tired.” A friend advised me when speaking of her first month in Chile.  She warned me that there would be days that I would go back to my house in the evenings and simply want to shut myself in my room.

I hit this phase and I hit it hard, but it was a lot easier for me to hide it as I was still with my grandma Sherian and Paulina, so I was sill in between English and Spanish, but there were days that I woke up an understood neither English nor Spanish. I felt like I was loosing grip on two worlds.  Paulina and I spent a lot of time translating like I mentioned in the beginning, and even sometimes, I hear the Spanish and just not register the words even though they were simple words I hac known almost my whole Spanish career.  For the first time, I wanted to withdraw into myself, to do absolutely nothing, but I knew I was growing every day I applied myself, every day that I tried.

            I watched four movies in Spanish with Paulina: Megamente (Megamind), Comer, Rezar, Amar (Eat, Pray, Love), Dia de los Enamorados (Valentine’s Day), and Endreados (Tangled).  I felt so lost watching Megamind and questioned weather I even knew Spanish at all.  Again, I learned like a child watching Disney movies with his parents, watching the cartoon, listening to the ride and fall of the characters’ voices and trying to figure out who were the “good guys” and who were the “bad guys.”  The next two went much better as I had already seen both of them in English, but like movies in English, I fell asleep for parts of them.  By the third movie, however, I finally understood the characters, laughed at the jokes, laughed at the subtitles for being wrong (they were also in Spanish), and understood the story. What a rich experience it was to understand!

            By the time we got to Santiago, then I was able to talk to the chicas of ISA in Spanish and to really understand and be understood!  What a fulfilling experience it is to understand literature, feelings, and people in their native language.  I have run in to so many words that just don’t translate well.  There are feelings, experiences, and ways of saying everyday things that you just can’t get if you only speak one language.  Even in watching those movies, or even watching movies that are subtitled in “my two languages,” there are things that are lost in translation; there are things that are just more beautiful to hear in their original language.

To Dwell in the House of the King

Psalm 84
 ¹ How lovely is your dwelling place,
   LORD Almighty!
² My soul yearns, even faints,
   for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
   for the living God.
³ Even the sparrow has found a home,
   and the swallow a nest for herself,
   where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
   LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
⁴ Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
   they are ever praising you.^[c]
 
 5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
   whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.
⁶ As they pass through the Valley of Baka,
   they make it a place of springs;
   the autumn rains also cover it with pools.^[d]
7 They go from strength to strength,
   till each appears before God in Zion.

 ⁸ Hear my prayer, LORD God Almighty;
   listen to me, God of Jacob.
⁹ Look on our shield,^[e] O God;
   look with favor on your anointed one.

 ¹⁰ Better is one day in your courts
   than a thousand elsewhere;
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
   than dwell in the tents of the wicked.
¹¹ For the LORD God is a sun and shield;
   the LORD bestows favor and honor;
no good thing does he withhold
   from those whose walk is blameless.

 ¹² LORD Almighty,
   blessed is the one who trusts in you.


Today is day two in Santiago with the grupo de gringos.  Yesterday, I was REALLY frustrated with all of the English I was hearing, but It's a bit better now after being able to go out to dinner in smaller groups last night.  I still cling to Messiah friends and some like-minded friends from Luther, Trinity, and a soul sister from Pitt as most of the crazy and ambitious gringos went out to fulfill the gringo stereotype last night (crazy consumers of alcohol).

The view from Cerro San Cerro San Cristóbal

Today, we toured the Presidential Palace called, "La Moneda" because it used to be a mint.  It was all very impressive with all the fine sculptures, the guards, and the riches in the palace, however, that wasn't the thing that stuck out to me the most.  What was it, you ask?  It wasn't a what, it was a who.  One of the rooms that we entered had a maid in it, busily polishing away so that the furniture would be in tip-top shape for a presentation of credentials that would be happening later tonight.  I had already been thinking about all of the different jobs involved in running the palace and the differences between it and the White House (and how much more it seemed we were able to see), but when we came to the maid, I started thinking about what it must be like to be a maid in the house of the President of Chile.  Of course, it was a house of government, and a foreign one at that, so naturally, I felt all sorts of out of place, but she, no, she had a place.  The maid had a place and SHE was as much a part of the Presidential palace as President Sebastián Piñera himself, and maybe even more so as she wasn't limited to serving a term.

The maid, polishing

Of course, this theme came back as we later found ourselves inside the National Cathedral.  Ah, yes, this still, like the ski resort was a construction of man, but it too had a reflection of the grandeur of God.  How small one feels in a cathedral!  How dwarfed by the ornate beauty of it all.  THIS is man's dwelling place for God almighty!  Although God is much bigger and not confined to our construction, it often helps me to visualize and put into perspective to imagine a cathedral.  You walk in and you are hushed with respect.  Even if you could shout, your voice, like the light inside would be sucked up into the space.  Constantly, your eyes are drawn up to the heavens, to the source of light, to the source of life.  Your thoughts, like the ceilings are automatically higher, and even if you aren't catholic, you want to pray.

One of the domes in the ceiling of the cathedral

And then, yes, I couldn't help but think to the Psalms: 84 (one of my favorites).  Even the maid in the Presidential Palace gets to come to work at the Presidential Palace EVERY DAY!  Even the swallows of this universe, dwarfed by the grandeur of the Cathedral or the Palace can seek refuge in the vastness of such a building, and even we, humans dwarfed by the vastness of the universe, put out our best, ornate our houses of worship with all the riches we can muster and put our best foot forward to enter the house of the most high!  How can you not praise God?  How can you not be humbled?  How can you not lift your eyes and think of every power higher than yourself on the food chain, and last, the one power higher than us all?!?




Pictures: (http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2073481&id=1461390133&l=be452cb697)

When Man Seems Out of Place

“I have felt the wind blow, whispering your name, and I have seen your tears fall when I watch the rain…”

There is a great sense of awe for me in traversing the rugged, the steep, or the out of the way.  One reaches perhaps the climax of beauty itself when he finds himself in a location where the stuff of man seems grotesquely out of place, when he can realize that he is no match for the height or grandeur of a snowcapped peak, and that nothing he could possibly contrive out of building materials could look like more than a few popsicle sticks crudely fastened to the side of a behemoth of a peak.

For me, my heart flutters at times like this.  There’s just something that seems so appropriate about the blaring praise music on a car stereo as you ascend into the unknown.  My soul is comforted as my mind reels at the majesty and the grandeur of the forest, the splash of mountain streams, the crisp freshness of high-altitude air, and the appearance of purity as your car nears a snow-capped peak.  It’s as if the car stereo gives voice to the rocks as they cry out, as if the drumbeat is echoing the trees as they clap for joy.

It’s at times like this, however when God reminds me how small I am.  "What are men compared to rocks and mountains?"  Who am I in the scale of a mountain?  As we drove to Petrohué and up part of Osorno volcano this Saturday, I couldn’t help but realize how out of place the stuff of man appeared.  I was not sure if I should laugh at the irony or be depressed that a brightly colored ski resort kept insisting on ruining my pictures.  Here it was, something feeble that the hand of man had created trying to hold fast and to claim even a speck of the beauty of this breathtaking volcano.

I even tried to climb up a path that I saw in the distance so that my grandma could get a picture of me with the snow-capped volcano in it, but even this plan failed miserably.  In the frame, I was just a speck on the hillside next to the one with snow on it, which really couldn’t be seen in the picture as the frame was nowhere near big enough to show both me AND the volcano.

What is man?  Where is his home?  Certainly not here, I thought.  God’s handiwork was more than sufficiently stamped all over this landscape.  If a camera from close to me couldn’t even fit me, an average person in the frame with this mountain, how much bigger and more impressive is our God?  The bright, inviting colors of the ski resort paled in comparison to with the expanse of the Andes Mountains we were standing on, the only thing separating us from Argentina, the way a feeble crayon drawing would pale in comparison to Starry Night.

Man was not meant to live here.  The handiwork of man cannot begin to compare to grandeur and the vastness that is the creation we are merely a part of.  And yet, God cares for every individual part of his creation the way a painter carefully places brush strokes so that his overall picture looks just right from afar. Man was not meant for this world.  He was not meant to live at sea level; he was not made to live too close to the summit of Mt. Everest.  Man was not made to live in a city where commerce and advertising for the works of man dictate even what se sees out his window; man was not made to live in or to admire something of his own creation.  Man, like the rest of the creation he is merely a part of, was made to glorify and to long after his creator.

How much more beautiful than the vastness of a mountain range will it be when man is finally reunited with God?  If it takes me hours, days, or weeks to fully understand the vastness of one volcano by driving, hiking, or biking it, how much longer will it take me to actually grasp the vastness of God?

No, one lifetime on Earth isn’t hardly enough, but for this, He’s given us eternity.




For more volcano pictures: (http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2073036&id=1461390133&l=3000840514)

A Little Island Named Chiloé

Palafitos, or stilt houses, in Castro, Chiloé

Remember Anatevka?  Okay, maybe you don't, but maybe you can picture a village, well more like a region, where the people are known far and wide for their specific traditions, food, and their rich history.  Such is the Island of Chiloé.  The people of this island, or Chilotes, are known for their customs,  their rich history as well as their vast mythology, and of course, their food.

Curanto... Pictures just can't do it justice!

Like any maritime region, Chilotes live off of seafood.  Now, if you can remember back to my eating preferences before Chile, (which probably most of you can't, really), you will probably remember that I eat practically everything.  Everything, except shellfish, crabs, and most types of fish that I haven't tried.  Guess what?  Chileans and Chilotes especially, LOVE fish, shellfish, and all of the other words that I didn't really pay attention to when we learned the food market chapter in our Spanish books.

SURPRISE!  I actually eat Shellfish now.  There's something about already being here that has made me even more adventurous, adventurous enough to do things that I even said I HATED.  While we were in Chiloé, I got to try Curanto, a HUGE PLATE of clams, mussels, pork rib, two types of Chilean potatoes, and even chicken.  My dad would have been SO proud.  Of course, that was lunch on day one.  Day two on Chiloé and a change of towns provided it's own new foods.  Food number one caused the most excitement later: RAW OYSTERS.  Paulina said that they were her favorite, so she urged me to try one with Lemon.  I told her that I would eat one if she would eat one, so we each bought one.  WHAT AN EXPERIENCE!  I didn't like it at first because I got shells in my mouth and struggled to get them out before my super strong gag reflex kicked in, but afterwards, I felt so accomplished!  (Make sure you get to see the pictures on facebook, of course (http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2072308&id=1461390133&l=a299e81d7c).

Yes, that's a raw oyster!

We also tried one of Erik Lindquist (my adviser from Messiah)'s favorite Chilean dishes: Chupe de Jaiba which was almost like a cheesy crab dip, but it really tasted like avocado dip.  Later on in the day, however, both Mr. Butto and Paulina got sick and had to throw up.  We're not really sure what it was, but they're pointing their fingers at the oysters, even though Mr. Butto has never gotten sick from one before, and they made sure to tell everyone that asked what happened that the "gringa" didn't get sick.  I guess this just proves that I have an iron stomach.

Chupe de Jaiba

Another point of Chiloé that I'd like to highlight were all of the beautiful boats.  You will, of course see these in my pictures, but I have a FASCINATION with the beautiful colors of island and sea towns.  The same thing seems to be happening with windows as a reoccurring theme for me.  Before coming, I read a book that was a collection of poems from Pablo Neruda, a chilean (in English) and pictures by a Chilean photographer called, "Windows that Open Inward."  Now, I've really been taking note of the windows.  Each one is different, specific, and personal, like you could look into the souls of the people who inhabit the house, or as if the beautiful scenery of Chile could use a window to change your soul.  Pay attention to the use of windows in my pictures.

Chiloé is also known of all of its old churches, built in the 18th century.  They are made only out of wood, no nails, even and many are being restored today.  We went to see the large one on the plaza at Castro, and then, as a highlight, we got to attend a church service in another very old church in Ancud.

Part of the Cathedral at Castro

The service was very beautiful and extra special because it included Paulina's cousin's engagement!  In Chile, when a couple decides to get engaged, they have a part in a church service.  Both the man and woman wear an engagement ring, a thin gold band which is worn on the ring finger of you right hand, and switched over to the left with a thicker gold band on their wedding day.  They exchange engagement rings in front of the whole church and promise to their fiancee that they are reserved just for that person.  How beautiful!  I also really enjoyed the pastor's message about the church being the bride of Christ and being pure for him on the day of his return.

A Picture from the Engagement Ceremony

Well, they say that Chiloé there is a lot of mythology and there are many famous characters that get blamed for many mysterious things.  I for one, only have an outsider's view, but I can say that something was afoot while we were in Chiloé.  I'll stick to calling it irony, but while we were anticipating the engagement ceremony, my Aunt Becca (the one that moved to Alaska) was getting engaged herself!  It was a very happy day for both the Chilean family that we're staying with and for us!  It was also really neat, then when we exchanged engagement customs and stories over this Valentine's Day breakfast.

Terremoto Means Earthquake

This is just a little note to let everyone know that all is fine where I am in Chile!
If you want to look at a map, you should know the following:
I am in Purto Montt.
The earthquake happened in the Biobío Region.
They only felt it as far south as Valdivia.


WE DIDN'T EVEN FEEL IT.
There was no structural damage, no injury, and no threat of a tsunami.
Praise the Lord!

Un dia al lado del lago, a day beside the lake

Here are some of our first pictures here from Puerto Montt, Puerto Varas, y Frutillar

(http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2071837&id=1461390133&l=f5195e14d6)

Una ventana abierta: An Open Window

The View from Butto's Upstairs Bedroom, Puerto Montt

Grandma Sherian and I arrived in Puerto Montt this afternoon where were greeted by the very gracious Paulina Chavez Butto and her hijo (son), Benjamín.  Paulina took us to her family's home which is pretty close to the center of the city.  You can even see water from their kitchen and from the open window of her parents' bedroom where they have us staying these two weeks.  Immediately she asked us if we had eaten and she fed us, insisting that we didn't touch the dishes afterward.

As a testament to Chilean hospitality, dinner, or the light meal we had around 5:15 included general conversation and also questions about how we do things in the United States.  When do you get up?  8?  That's early.  You can sleep as long as you like here.  What do you eat for breakfast?  Lunch?  What time is your last meal?  Do you eat after that?  We usually just have tea and toast around this time; is that okay?

After we were told that we don't have to help with anything, we insisted on helping out with the school that the Butto family is associated with and we were then given tasks for tomorrow.  Mr. Butto told us that we can work in the mornings like him and then come home for lunch (large meal around one) and have the rest of the day off.  Paulina then made a joke that we had to have explained.  She said that her father was a "pharoah," or as we might say a "slave driver," but only as a joke.

After dinner, Paulina took us out in her car for un pasillo (a little pass through) of the city, showing us their two beaches, the stadium, their two BEAUTIFUL volcanoes, the port, the area where they bring in and process fish, and explaining a lot of other things.  Every corner we rounded was another breath-taking sight.

Thus ends day one in Chile.  Much conversation, a lot of listening, and a lot of trying to catch everything.  It is really helpful to have Paulina who speaks English very well to help fill in her father on what Grandma Sherian says, or to put something I say into "Chileanismos," or more Chilean terminology, and I do a lot of filling in from when Paulina explains something to me in Spanish to Grandma.

People keep telling me that I speak very well, and I guess it just takes taking the plunge to try and say everything I can to pull that out of me.  I still have SO much to learn, but listening helps so much.  The funniest thing is talking with Benjamín.  He's six and he thinks that English is a secret code that Paulina uses with me and Grandma Sherian.  He'll beg us to speak in Spanish so that he understands, but he doesn't really understand that Grandma doesn't speak any Spanish and that I can't quite catch everything he says, especially when he says it very quickly.

I really do feel so welcomed and so free here.  Yes, I'm constrained a bit by the initial language barrier, but I can definitely communicate better than when I first went to Mexico and the talking outside of "How much does this cost?" that I did for the group most of the time we were in El Salvador.  Not only do people here trust me to speak (Marta always seemed to forget that I spoke and understood while I was in El Salvador), but they count on it, and, I'm understood!

My time in Chile is an open window.  I can see winding city streets that head up hill and then mysteriously dodge out of sight, feel the vastness of the things beyond me as I gaze at the sea, and still, I feel a part of my surroundings as the breeze blows through the window, touching me where I'm comfortable, and stirring something in me.  I long to join in, to explore the source of this new breeze, to dive deeper into the culture, and to become attached to this place.

THE DAY HAS ARRIVED!!!

Grandma Sherian and I leave Dallas at 09:10 PM tonight and arrive in Santiago at 09:55 AM tomorrow.  Not to mention we have the flight from Madison to a crowded post-Superbowl Dallas then a layover in that crazy and the flight from Santiago to Puerto Montt upon our arrival in Chile.

Please pray for safe and smooth travels and a great two weeks in Puerto Montt.  I will write more as I have time!

It's only "super" if your team's playing

Wow!  What can I say about how exciting it's been to be in Wisconsin with all of the Superbowl spirit?
I suppose that's about all I can say.  Short of being there, this is the best place I could have asked to be.  I kept sharing little tidbits with Tyler, a devoted Pennsylvania Pack fan, so let me just jot down a few here:

Every Wal-Mart (and actually almost any store, Walgreen's and gas stations included) has a Pack shrine where you can find all the gear and accessories you need to show your devotion (yes, even cheeseheads sometimes).
Every news channel devotes 5-10 min per broadcast slot to covering the pre-game starting at least a week in advance.
Some restaurants close on Christmas, New Year's, and Superbowl Sunday.
It is acceptable for the church choir to wear alternating green and gold stoles on Superbowl Sunday.
You hear prayers that end in "Amen, GO PACK!" in church
The congregation is a sea of green and gold and those who didn't dress up are probably just bitter Bears fans.
Elementary school-aged kids sport paper cheseheads (a la homemade pilgrim hat) that they obviously made in school
People will actually get out of their car at the grocery store and take off their coat to reveal their Packers jersey before entering the store, despite the fact it's snowing
I saw Youtube clips like, "Teach me How to Raji," or "Feelin' so Fly Like a Cheesehead" on the news
AND I heard all the hotels in Green Bay were booked as many Wisconsinites made pilgrimage to Cheesehead Mecca to watch soak up the hometown excitement of the big game.

After my first grade vow to never cheer for a Pennsylvania team after being yanked away from Wisconsin at such a formative age, let me just say, finally watching a Wisconsin team beat a Pennsylvania team when it counted (and without Farve) AND being in Wisconsin for the celebration was PRICELESS!  People here really identify with the Packers and I'm just so pleased that they were able to pull through.

Go PACK, GO!!!

It's DONE, THE QUILT PROJECT'S DONE!

I finished the table runner along with some baby Chilean Flags that I plan to frame and give to the Buttos, the family I'll be with from Tuesday until orientation, and my host family (a great gift for Flag Day, eh?)

Check them out: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2071145&id=1461390133&l=086438a996

Contact Info :)

While I'm away, I still want to hear from you guys!

Skype:
Danika.Foster

You can send me a letter at:
Danika Foster
12 de Febrero 86
Valparaiso, Chile

or Email me:
Danikapf@gmail.com

And, if you like, give me a call!  I have a Pennsylvania phone number that rings through my computer:
(717) 502-4232

Quilt Update

The top's done :)  We're putting the back the back on and actually quilting it tomorrow, which means FINISHING IT!  I already have a plan for my net project, though.  this could be dangerous...

The colors in the pictures are really dark because I'm relying on my cell phone camera right now, but I promise to put up better pictures later.  At least you can see the patterns now.

Learning by Doing, OR Quilting with My Grandma

I've arrived in Wisconsin, er, well, I arrived in Wisconsin last Thursday, but I've been quite busy with My grandma running errands, visiting Culver's, watching Kiley sing, singing in church, AND scheming up a project.

I'm QUILTING!  It's a baby step, a table runner, but I drew it, colored it, and am doing as much of it as I can.  I told my grandma, though she'll probably get a lot of laughs out of trying to teach me.  Even in the beginning, I thought that knowing how to sew was at least one part I had under my belt.  As my grandma too care to mention all of the details of cutting, pinning, sewing, and planning, I tried to soak in every detail, but like a toddler taking her first steps alone, I wanted to keep looking back as if to ask for help as I went to put in the first stitches. 

Trying to muster up as much confidence as I could, I sewed together my first two pieces.  Ironically, Grandma Sherian reminded me of one of my favorite quotes that she has passed down to me from her mother, my Grandma Pauline, "Just remember, never sew anything hat you are not willing to pull out later."  I slowly finished connecting my first two pieces as she worked to get lunch ready yesterday.  When I pulled the fabric away from the needle, however, it looked HORRIBLE.  Something wasn't quite right.  As I began to rip out the seam, (even this I had forgotten the easiest way to do), my grandma came over to help me.  "You forgot to put the presser foot down," she half laughed and expertly pointed out.  She knew just what the problem was.  It was something so simple, yet so crucial.

Like embarking on my sewing project, my last few hours at home were filled with looking back before shakily trying to take my own steps.  I wanted to pack my own bags, but I wanted my dad's help.  I didn't want to weigh them til they were fully packed, but one of my bags ended up being grossly overweight at the airport.  I wanted to be ready to leave, but I knew I'd miss home and pulling away was the hardest part.  I tried to be tough, I tried to seem grown up and ready to leave, but I was freaking out about so many things that I wasn't quite fair to the people around me.  I wanted to see everyone, I wanted my time away to be significant an important, but what I really needed was to tell more than my blog readers how I felt.

Things have gotten better now that I'm in Wisconsin, as Andee put it, "halfway to Chile."  I've had many vivid and slightly tormenting dreams as my subconscious tries to process the change that my conscious is trying to "tough guy" out of.  I already miss everyone.  I know that I'm being pretty bad on the communication right now, but I'm still processing.  My fears, my hopes, my dreams are all coming back to me as pieces, and with the help of my grandma's antique Singer and the environment of my old home town, I'm piecing them together.

Hike. Pray. Protest.

You may notice that my current facebook status says:

Get your hands on a Backpacker Magazine and read Tracy Ross' article, "Hike. Pray. Protest." about Peter Illyn, Robert Sage Vekasi-Phillips, and Restoring Eden: Christians for Environmental Stewardship!!

I will take a break in my normally scheduled Chile talk to tell you to go out right now and invest in the magazine (they even mentioned my name in the article).  

A BIG part of my Chile trip that I'm interested in is being able to take a Sustainable Agriculture class down there, and those of you who know me well will know that Christian Environmental Stewardship is a passion of mine.  For me it's like a dual mission field: Those who know Christ do not fully understand the necessity and the urgency of our spiritual need to care for creation, and those who do understand the spiritual and environmental pull of creation care are not necessarily Christians.

You shoud know for factual purposes,  they have Peter leading a wayward life until age 33 but, he got saved at age 19. At 33,  he started Restoring Eden.  And, Restoring Eden teaches environmental stewardship as a form of Christian discipleship, not as a requirement for salvation. Also, while Restoring Eden believes the common good needs a collective voice, they suggest that civil disobedience be a last resort - but it is always on the table.

As far as the salvation issue goes, yes,  I agree. It is very close to the beginning of the article,  though, so maybe it'll be glossed over in the scheme of things.  I had a nice chat with my theology professor this semester when he was talking about the redemption of man and how we often make it over personal and I challenged him on making it worse than that: strictly anthropocentric. The Bible says that Christ is coming to redeem ALL THINGS. We're right up there and equal with creation, redeemed WITH creation not through it, but not without it. As one of my indigenous friends, Terry LeBlanc, likes to say: "If you want to get some mainstream Western Christians fired up, remind them that, Christ died for you AND your dog." 

I really liked the article for the most part.  I actually found out about it on my dad's Facebook, then made an 11 PM run to a local store that was selling it. I thought it was funny how having a conversation with someone makes you a "friend" of theirs, but it was a good conversation and her quote about her school being "the buckle of the Bible Belt" has certainly rung in my ears since Powershift. I've found a lot more direction in my life and my role in Christian Environmental Stewardship since then, and I'm even more excited now!

It's really interesting.   Since Powershift (a sweet alternative energy and environmental themed conference for mostly college-aged youth), where the interviews were conducted,  I've gotten to see how coal not only leads to violence and destruction of our Earth in the US, but also in El Salvador (people are getting SHOT) and how it's a hot topic even in the UN now-a-days (visiting the UN for the CSD: Commission on Sustainable Development last year was also LARGELY eye-opening) that is becoming very political. Even my campus (Messiah College) gets our energy from a company that is mainly a coal company :(   Actually, I can't wait to show the magazine to President Phipps and talk to her about Messiah's 5 year sustainability plan and what that REALLY means.  

I was excited to hear Obama's SOTU tonight, but even China's already beating us at investing in green energy. What's really sad, though, is when out investments in green energy end up (pardon my language) raping other countries. When I was in El Salvador, I talked to an indigenous man whose crops all died when a us company bought up a lot across the dirt road from his village and fumigated it to try and grow "native" crops for biofuel development. After funding his country's civil war, we're still taking advantage of the marginalized of his country because we're still trying to cheap out of our responsibilities to God, the Earth, and our fellow Man. THAT is uncalled for and definitely infringing on the commands of Jesus. 

Another slant of the article I didn't really agree with was when they made it sound like the girl that they quoted's parents and my parents were in the same boat.
My parents wouldn't kill me if they knew I'd been speaking out for the environment in radical ways... they DO know and they fully support me :)  

AND, as far as Peter Illyn and hiking the PCT with LLAMAS goes...  I wish I would have thought of that first. I LOVE llamas.

Oh, January, Oh

Again, I have been captivated by my radio and I am going to share with you again.
This month of January in Grantham has been unexpected and although not my original plan, I have been where God wanted me to be and he has affirmed that.

So come the silent things.  Those tidbits that you store up in your heart, unspoken worries and people that you wish you might have found the right words to tell them how you feel about them, the things you take for granted, the times your heart already aches for missing, like snowflakes, then little things fall on you, piling up, and chilling you.

The opposite seasons are already playing with me.  Here I am in winter in the Northern Hemisphere.  The promise of Chilean summer is right around the corner.  Although I have missed out on Chilean Spring and it will soon be shifting into fall there, the spring in heart will come in newly formed relationships and newly explored territories.
In Chile I will not only be in an opposite season of my peers physically, but I will also be in another season of my life.  As my friend Sarah said to me so simply, "Tu experiencia va a ser tu experiencia," or "your experience will be your experience."

I think what has really hit me is that though I know this experience will be formative and transformative, it will also be completely my own.  I'm leaving this place until August, the longest time I've been away from Central Pennsylvania since we moved here.  After Grandma Sherian leaves, everyone is unfamiliar, every experience is new, and everyone familiar is "back home," or at least in one of the places I have called my "home."

Messiah, if I've held back, I'm sorry.  If I've said too much or grown too attached, I'm sorry.
Goodbye, Grantham.



And, familiar enough that my heart could have accidentally communicated to them into a song, some lyrics of wisdom from the Decemberists:

January Hymn:

On a winter Sunday I go
To clear away the snow
And green the ground below

April all an ocean away
Is this the better way to spend the day?
Keeping the winter at bay

What were the words I meant to say before you left?
When I could see your breath lead where you were going to

Maybe I should just “let it be”
and maybe it will all come back to me
Sing oh January oh!

How I lived a childhood in snow
And all my teens in tow
Stuffed in strata of glow

Hail the winter days after dark
Wandering the gray memorial park
A fleeting beating of hearts

What were the words I meant to say before she left?
When I could see her breath lead where she was going to

Maybe I should just “let it be”
And maybe it will all come back to me
Sing oh Janu…
Oh January oh

(less than) A Week 'til Wisconsin

Oh, to be at ease in having my final plans worked out!
As it turns out, I will be flying to Wisconsin instead of taking the train (my original plan), which puts me in Philadelphia on Tuesday, saying goodbye to Messiah on Wednesday, and Flying to Wisconsin on Thursday, 5 days from now!

Everyone's questions to me lately have been to the tune of, "Are you excited?" "Are you nervous?"  Are you packed?

The answers to these questions are of course complex.  For the first time, I really feel like I'm going to miss the smallness  and the familiarity of Grantham.  Ever since I was little, I've always plunged into the new and unfamiliar, embracing change and embracing adventure.  I've always seen myself as outgoing, and more of a global citizen rather than a local citizen.  I had told myself that four years at Messiah would "no big deal" to be close to home as I would be taking flight afterwards.  The truth is, I have become very attached to Messiah and to my Friends here.  The "Messiah Bubble" as we affectionately call it is small and it is maybe a bit constricting at times, but something inside me feels nervous to leave for once.  Maybe it's because I will be returning to SENIOR YEAR of college, or maybe it's because I feel like I'll be missing out on a key transitional time.  Not being packed and not feeling like I have enough time to get to everyone is also killing me...

Either way, I feel much more ready to head out and much more empowered to keep on packing now that I have actual plans.  My flight to Wisconsin is booked and my flights from Chile to Wisconsin of course were taken care long ago.

Ready or not, HERE IT COMES!

I have a date... with the Consulate!

After MONTHS of paperwork and unnecessary stress,
MY VISA HAS BEEN APPROVED!!!

With that said, my schedule boils down like this:
Jan 24 leave Dillsburg
Jan 25 Date with the Consulate
Jan 26 Leave Philly
Jan 27-29 Wheaton (tentative)
Jan 29 Lodi
Feb 7-8 Travel to CHILE

Pray that all this shuffling goes smoothly!