Category Archives: United States

A Garden in the Desert

Ironically, I had to go back to the desert to find the garden.

One strange thing about living on Saint Martin is the lack of cultivation. You’d think that a tropical paradise would be dripping with succulent fruit, but this one’s not. And I can’t try to grow anything myself, because the only dirt I can call my own in the soil in the dustpan.

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Early this morning, I landed in Phoenix, Arizona, where I grew up and where my family still lives. When the sun rose, my mom took me on a tour of her garden.

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I have never been able to coax more than a sad cactus to grow in the hard clay we Arizonans like to call dirt. My mom, however, has a true green thumb. She and my dad have conquered the bugs, rats, birds, hard soil, and lack of rain by building two beautiful raised gardens near their citrus trees.

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The sunflowers are recovering from a storm

The first raised garden is full of vegetables and a row of giant sunflowers. We picked some carrots and lettuce. Fresh carrots hold some many good memories for me. We planted them in our garden when I was small, and I remember feeding the root to my cousins’ horses and the greens to their rabbits. Horses thought carrots were treats, so I was convinced that they were basically candy.

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We enjoyed the fresh lettuce and tomatoes in our sandwiches at lunch. In Saint Martin, lettuce is expensive and goes bad more quickly than we can eat it. I never buy it, so it was a treat. Especially since it was fresh picked.

 

 

 

The flower garden is beautiful. Can you tell what my mom’s favorite colors are? She grows daisies, poppies, and other bright blossoms. The hollyhocks, sadly, did not decide to grace us with their presence this year.

Last but not least is the little orchard. My parents have an orange tree, a lemon tree, a grapefruit tree, and a tiny lime tree with one baby lime. They’ve recently planted a peach tree. They also have a strange lemon tree with an orange branch grafted in. The fruit looks like an orange but is bitter like a lemon. It makes interesting lemonade but is not very good eating. Citrus actually grows very well in Arizona. It’s one of the state’s five main sources of income, along with cattle, copper, cotton and Grand Canyon tourism.

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Here, in the middle of the desert, good and beautiful things grow. I left behind a land of lush greenery and little produce, and found myself in a dry place with much fruit.

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I think that our Christian lives are like that at times. Sometimes, we find ourselves in an oasis in life, but we discover that we bear very little fruit in that rich season. Then, we may find ourselves in a desert place. We don’t expect to find growth in our lives in those seasons, because they’re so dry. But when we look at ourselves and our lives, we suddenly realize that the very place that promised so little is the place that cultivated the most growth and fruit.

Are you in a dry season? Don’t slip into discouragement, dear friend. You may not realize what great things God is doing in your life until you come to the end of the wilderness.

 

“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad;
the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus.”

-Isaiah 35:1

I Look to a Day When….

Few people have had as much impact on the racial element of American culture as Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember the first time I listened to his speech… not heard, but really listened. It sent shivers up and down my spine. Joy rose in my heart as I recognized the steps we’ve taken as a nation and longing tugged at my heart as I realized what a long way we still have to go.

If I’ve learned anything about race and culture, it is that valuing differences in culture and skin color is key to ethnic harmony. We sometimes try to pretend that there’s no differences among us. But that is not a solution, and it does nothing to facilitate relationships and understanding.

We’re different. Everybody, every culture, every color.

It’s beautiful.

Let’s start appreciating.

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Culture is the most beautiful and fascinating thing I have encountered in my life. It’s amazing to see the diversity among humankind. So many different faces, so many different foods, so many different ways to do life.

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I love what the Bible says about ethnic diversity. Historically, we know that many people have shamefully used the scriptures as an excuse for racism. Those people obviously never read the book. My favorite passage of the Bible is the the 21st and 22nd chapter of Revelation. In it, the author describes what the world will be like after the end of the world as we know it and the beginning of the new order. The Bible teaches that eventually, God will remake the earth and remove all the bad from it. Then, he will come and live on earth with us in a beautiful city. Here and elsewhere in the Bible, “nations” is a translation of the Greek word “ethne,” meaning people groups of ethnic groups.

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“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the Lamb [the Lamb is a name for Jesus]… and and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’…They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne shall be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Revelation 7:9-17

“And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb . By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into in and its gates will never be shut by day– and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and honor of the nations. But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life.” Revelation 21:22-27

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This is good news for all of us. First it tells us that God is a big fan of our diversity. Why would he have created it otherwise? Secondly, it tells us that our diversity will remain in Heaven and beyond. Third, it comforts us with the promise that all of God’s children who ever been abandoned, hurt, abused, or shunned based on race will be accepted, healed, cared for, and loved by God. What a promise; what a future to look forward to.

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“I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

I may not live to see a day when this is true for our world. But I hold to the promise that I will see that day in Heaven.

 

 

Yo Hablo un Poco Español

Yo hablo un poco Español. Imagine me saying that in a very bad Mexican/American accent, and you will hear the best of my Spanish. Actually, I’m not sure if the grammar is even correct (perhaps someone can enlighten me in the comments). Sometimes I try “Yo hablo poquito Español,” but either way I am met with chuckles and amused smiles. Not sure if it’s the white girl accent or if I’m just saying everything wrong.

You’d think that I would have learned Spanish just by living near the Arizona-Mexico border, working with Spanish-speaking people, and going to Mexico a dozen times. Nope. Living in Phoenix taught me enough Spanish to pronounce “gila,” “agua,” and “cholla” correctly and navigate my way through Food City.  Unfortunately, the people I asked to help me learn mostly liked to teach me insults and laugh when I asked someone to “give me the hooker” when I wanted lettuce. Thanks, guys.  Muchas Gracias.

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Me in 2007 with my dad and friends in Mexico, not knowing Spanish

 

 

Fortunately, my Spanish has been steadily improving since I moved to the island. On the plane ride here, I set next to a Puerto Rican lady for a few hours. I used all the power of my jet-lagged brain to recall the words I learned in Spanish 101. Her English was even worse than my Spanish, and we got along just fine. Through Spanglish plus hand gestures, we had a conversation about how to avoid pickpockets in San Juan. I understood enough to be glad I was catching a connection to Sint Maarten!

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San Juan

 

Since I’ve been here, I’ve been practicing on the Duo Lingo app and watching lots of Spanish movies. There are a few Spanish-speaking kids in the group I tutor, so while I teach them English, they teach me Spanish. They learn a lot faster than I do. Some of them learned conversational English in a month, and I’m just over here struggling with Spanish adverbs. I told them they must just be smarter than me. They laugh. And then they correct my Mexican accent.

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Teaching as a Learner

There comes a moment in language learning when you realize that you’ve made a major breakthrough. Those moments are some of the best moments of life. It’s kind of like the moment you find out you’re hired or that you won the scholarship. That moment came for me a few days before Christmas when Ben turned the radio to a Christian Spanish station. We were tired, and we just listen to it in silence as we drove. Suddenly it hit me: I could totally understand everything the speaker was saying. I almost jumped right out of my seat, I was so excited. I could understand!

Don’t ever, ever, ever give up on the things that you want to do. Even if they don’t come easily to you.

I’m still struggling with adverbs, and I still don’t know whether I should pronounce “ll” the Mexican way or the Caribbean way. I still can’t speak or hear it as well as I read it. But I’m making progress, and it’s encouraging. Trilingualism, here I come!

The Girl with a Purple Suitcase

I still remember my first suitcase. I got it for Christmas when I was five years old. It was purple and turquoise, and it had wheels and a telescoping handle. It even had my name on the front in dark purple vinyl letters. I remember unwrapping the giant box and pulling out my new suitcase. It was so tiny, but it looked enormous to my small five-year-old mind. I took it with me to San Diego.

I still have a purple suitcase. A purple suitcase, a blue suitcase, and a little carry-on with weird hand-painted chili peppers that I found at Goodwill.

Today I read a blog called “A Girl With a Suitcase.” The author wrote about a little girl she knows who asked for a suitcase for Christmas. It seemed poetic, she said.

There really is something poetic about suitcases and people who crave them. Suitcases are either full of adventures or full of memories. I wish we still had the old hard-case suitcases with the virtually irremovable airline stickers. I think those are a lovely way to collect memories of where we’ve been.

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The suitcase I got when I was five took me to San Diego and Phoenix. What big adventures for a little girl! The suitcase I have now has taken me to Africa, the Bahamas, Michigan, Oregon and St. Maarten.

Where has your suitcase taken you?

The places I’ve been have shaped who I am. Many of my biggest moments have happened while living out of a suitcase. I got engaged while living out of a suitcase. I met a forever friend at camp while living out of a suitcase. I found my purpose in life while living out of a suitcase.

I suppose I owe my wanderlust to my parents. Five years old is a special age. It’s an age when we begin to learn who we are. They could have given me anything for Christmas, but they gave me a suitcase. And they gave me a new purple suitcase when the wheels broke and the letters of my name peeled off the first one. They took me on plane trips almost every year and road trips at least biannually. They taught me to discover, to learn, to experience.

This year for Christmas, they got on a plane and came to my home so many miles away from theirs. They gave me Lucky Charms, makeup, clothes….

….And a suitcase.

 

One More Time

If you asked me what day of the last year I would like to live over, it would be April 21, 2015. Why? Why would I want to live over a random Tuesday? Why not a big, life-changing, memorable day? Because the memories are enough. I’d want to remember those days the way I experienced them the first time around.

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Just another day out our place, April 2015

 

The things I don’t remember well are the everyday things. I’d like to go back a few months and live over a regular day in a past season of my life. On Tuesday, April 21, 2015, I woke up to the sound of Ben’s alarm at 5:30 am. I dragged myself out of bed and made breakfast– probably eggs– while Ben made coffee. We did morning devotions and ate together, and a bit before seven he drove me to work. I opened up the preschool, played with my sweet babies, and then worked as a teacher’s aide in their class. Then I went home and cleaned the house, ate lunch, read my Bible. Maybe I called my mom. Maybe I saw my sister while walking home from work through her college campus. Maybe I walked the long way home and enjoyed the sounds of the city. At 2:30, I went back to work and watched elementary school kids. I probably brought my ukulele and let them play it, I probably played tag with them. I talked casually with the friends I worked with. After work, I walked home and made dinner for Ben. He came home, and after dinner we got ready for Bible study. I made tea, everyone came, and Ben led study group. We read the Bible, prayed, talked, and laughed together. Then everyone said goodnight and went home. I made Ben’s lunch for the next day and we went to sleep.

Not a very exciting day, but a good day. A normal day.

If I could live a day over, I’d want to live again in a day in the life of the former version of me. I’d remember what my life was like. I’d see the changes that have happened over the months, and I’d be grateful for how I’ve grown. I’d be thankful for the time I had with those friends, those kids, that home, that place.

Today, I am thankful to the Lord that I lived today and that I get to live tomorrow. I’d love to live a day in my life over again, but we’re only given one chance to live each day. Let’s be thankful for today and make the most of it.

Inspired by WordPress writing prompts.

Dear American Tourists

Dear American Tourists, please stop being so rude.

It is no secret that American tourists do not have the best international reputation. I am an American. I live on a Dutch island in the Caribbean, where my husband goes to medical school. We were asked during orientation to be courteous and not perpetuate the poor reputation American tourists have. I do not think of myself as a rude person. I think most Americans do not. I have noticed, however, that in every country I have ever visited, “the locals are so friendly.” Maybe I have only traveled to friendly places. Maybe not. Maybe, everywhere else seems so friendly because America is generally not very friendly at all.

So what is our problem? Why don’t people like us, and what can we do to change that?

I would say that many things are cultural. People have different ideas of how to greet one another (one friend here said that he was sternly corrected for saying “hello” rather than “good morning,” which is proper here). People have different standards of eye contact. People have different rules for tipping, eating, asking for directions, etc etc.

There are some things that you can control when it comes to cultural courtesy. You can Google whether tips are expected or insulting in a certain area of the world. You can ask what a proper greeting entails. You can watch to see whether greeting strangers as you pass is considered kind or creepy.

There are also some things that you cannot control. You will not pick up on the majority of cultural nuances. You will trespass because you are used to signs designating private property. You will shake hands “wrong.” It happens. People probably won’t care too much; they will hear your accent and realize you are foreign. They will probably ignore it or laugh a little. They might become annoyed, but, hey, you’re learning.

Finally, there are things that are very rude no matter where you are. Dear American tourists, please do not do these things.

Please do not act as if you are better than other people. Your taxi driver and your waiter are not there for you to unload your grouchy jet-lagged crabfest upon. And just because people do things differently than you would does not mean it is “wrong.” It’s just, well, different.

Please do not act as though America is superior to all other nations. We Americans all love the stars and stripes, and that’s a good thing! However, people don’t want to hear a string of comparisons that belittle their own beloved nation. America is a culture where things are dichotomistic, time-oriented, and efficient. Most places aren’t like that. So don’t freak out when things are relaxed, confusing to you, or just plain irritating. If you wanted things to be American, you would have stayed in America. So enjoy the culture, embrace it while you’re there, and look for the good aspects.

Please do not be ethnocentric. No matter where you come from, it’s easy to place anyone different from yourself in the category of “Other.” You know what I mean, those Other people. The ones who look or dress or work or speak differently. I think that if we aren’t careful, we often look at people who are different from ourselves as less intelligent, less skilled, less important. You see a woman in a third-world county who is illiterate and does not work outside the home, and has never touched a computer. You may have more education and technical skills, but can you keep eight kids clothed, fed, and healthy in a two-room mudbrick home with no electricity, no water, and no stove? Can you sort rice so that not one tiny stone ends up in the pot? Can you carry 50 pounds of stuff on your head with no hands? Do you speak three languages? Can you keep a garden that supplies most if not all vegetable needs for your family, plus provides a little income? That, my friends, takes some serious skill. Some things are easy to miss. Learn to appreciate them. And just simply LEARN! Don’t go somewhere expecting to be a guru of all knowledge. (Shout out to short-term missions trip people here.) If you want to teach, you must first be a student. You will get more respect if you are willing to ask to be taught. Plus, it’s fun. It’s an icebreaker. It brings much laughter.

Please do not devalue other nations’ autonomy. I cringed when I heard an American tourist say, “The Bahamas should just be another state. It’s basically just part of the U.S. anyway.” How uninformed. Please, Mr. Florida Guy. You visit Touristville where half the people are white and everyone speaks English, and suddenly you think you know everything about the nation! My advice is, forget the tourist traps and take a local taxi or bus to the places that the locals hang out. Then you can get a feel for how people live. Learn about their government and read about the very intelligent people who run the state. There’s so much more to a place than just its American-catering tourist industry.

Please do not offend the locals by the way you dress. There are places where a bikini is pretty standard. There are places where you really ought to cover up, even arms and legs. Know the difference. There is no reason to exercise your liberty to dress revealingly if it gives you, your organization, and your country a bad name.

Please be mindful when you take photos. In some places, you can get your camera confiscated if you take a photo of the wrong thing (military or police in some countries). In others, people simply don’t want to be in your scrapbook. In general, don’t objectify locals as if they were some interesting foreign specimen.

Please do not be pushy. Yes, you come from a place where you can get pretty much whatever you want almost as fast as you want it. When traveling abroad, be mindful that this is rarely the case. Do not intimidate, complain, or demand. Rather, be smart and be respectful.

Please just be kind and courteous. In the end, people know you’re a visitor. They expect you to be, well, a weirdo. However, it is possible to be a courteous weirdo. Say please and thank you, smile, treat people the way you would like to be treated. Kindness counts, and it can go a long way in improving our international reputation.