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.