Observing Daily Life

"I applied my heart to what I observed and learned a lesson from what I saw." 

Proverbs 24:32

How often do you simply observe?  Can you say that in your day, you can remember a specific detail and describe it without placing your natural biases?  What do you do with observations?  

Everyday at Jireh Home is something different.  I know that every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday I will teach an hour of English, either to primary school students or secondary school students.  The rest of my time I originally considered time to support the staff and students with the things I can give.  My observations, however, have been teaching me otherwise.  

In class,  I see smiling faces, blank stares into space, girls, boys, young and old, eager and bored students in both classes.  I hear the calls of "Saya, saya (me, me)" of one student ready to answer, the giggles as I mistakenly switched two boys names for the whole class without knowing it, the constant refrains of various pop songs with not quite perfect lyrics, and excited cries of "Go Fish," one of the kid's favorite games from brother Jacob three years ago.  

I hear the horses who belong to our neighbors, the crickets and frogs in the yard,  the constant Malay around the house that I can almost understand.  I taste rice, sour/spicy mango mix my friend Lebiana made for dinner, chicken cooked with the bones in, small, whole fried fish, lots of Milo, and a little bit of peanut butter as a daily reminder of home.  

I smell the water that builds up in the gutters after the daily rain, the fried eggs we had for dinner last night, the swamp-like puddles in our dirt road driveway as I walk home.  I feel the mud squish under my feet, the hands of the younger girls as we walk around the block before dinner, hugs from the girls, the flower I was given before I went home today, the cool breeze from the fan in the living room and the constant stares from curious people in town.  

And those observations barely scratch the surface.  I also see 31 kids of all ages from incredibly different and likely what we would consider "tough" backgrounds take care of each other.  I watch them work together to ensure the house is clean, sing songs in Chinese, Malay or English for visitors, do each other's hair, race down the street in the neighborhood, find puppies in the field across the street, boss each other around, fight, and share chairs when there are so many available less then ten steps away.  I laugh as the younger girls quickly do as the older ones ask, bringing them their backpacks, pouring their tea for minum patang (afternoon drink), and moving if they occupy a desirable location.   I see the some of the older students in class I (primary school English I teach) sitting at the table with the younger ones, mostly helping them understand.   I watch as the younger girls protectively bonded around one of their roommates who was having a rough week;  as the older girls gathered to talk, debrief, gossip and giggle in rapid Malay during their evening free time.  And I hear so many welcoming and inviting calls of Sister, that sometimes I forget my name is actually Kelly. 

I am included in this community, this place where people take care of each other simply because that is what they do.  The kids offer me their loot from town, chopped mango with some sort of sauce that makes it quite sour or even spicy.  They constantly include me in their games, trying not to laugh too hard as I clumsily jump over a knee high rope they gracefully leap when its higher than their heads.  The girls make my normally boring ponytail into something exciting, and consider it a treat to have me sit at the table with them while they study.  The boys gently kick the soccer ball my way after showing off and are patient enough to explain the basic rules of takraw (volleyball using only your feet  and head).  And the staff spoil me completely, almost always serving me food, constantly checking to see if I am hungry, thirsty or tired, doing my laundry for me during my first week there, and buying me things from favorite places in Tuaran.  In return, I don't laugh with them when they make fun of the habits I didn't know I had - the noises I make when I understand, the face I make when I'm confused, my incredibly short, bitten finger nails, and my constant inability to get out of bed at normal Sabah time (6 am) to go jogging with Pastor Repeih.    

The acceptance, love and care of in this place forms the truest sense of community, a real and unique family.  I have been learning that in community, sometimes it is best to receive rather than give, to do nothing rather than help, and to be taught rather than teach.    

Beauty

"It is sunset now, and there is nothing left in the world but beauty.  I am too small for such beauty.  I only know that I give thanks to the blazing, clouded sky, the tossed up black tropical islands, and the oily, resting seas for existing until I could see them.  There is nothing in me great enough for this, but all of me that is gives thanks"

written about Sabah from Land Below the Wind by Agnes Newton Keith


Last week Sunday, I was the last of our YAGM group to leave STS.  Rommy, the driver here at Jireh Home came to get me and my excessive amount of luggage around 6 and we drove the 45 minutes to Tuaran discussing families, jobs and favorite things using the vocabulary we have in common.  As we approached my new home, the sun was setting, casting vivid colors over the green, lush landscape.  I stared in awe at the beauty of this place that is my home.

Some of the primary school students had a short holiday Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and invited me to go jogging with them Wednesday morning at 6 am.  As we have been constantly encouraged to say yes to every invitation, I set my alarm and got up with Pastor Repeih (the woman I am living with who also works at Jireh Home), and took a leisurely jog/walk to the house to meet the four young girls.  Pastor Repeih pointed to our left and said Kinabalu, and there it was, Mt. Kinabalu, looming in the distance.   Majestic, but hidden during the day.   I stared in awe at the beauty of this place that is my home.

This past Sunday was Malaysia Day.  Pastor Repeih invited me to go to KK for a thing that afternoon.  I was tired, overwhelmed by constant Malay and was hoping to taking the afternoon to myself, alone, likely on the internet.  But I said yes, it was an invitation.  Driving back to KK, I was thrilled to be going somewhere, excited to possibly see other YAGMs, and completely clueless about what was going on.  We sat in the stadium in KK having arrived almost 2 hours early as the sun shone through the clouds a little too much for comfort.  What once was an empty stadium, was suddenly filled with Malaysian Christians, who came to bless the nation in their year of jubilee.  The sun set over the mountains during the presentation of many different types of cultural dances, giving the celebrations a gorgeous background.  Then at exactly 7, they (so so many people) blew the Shofars (ram's horns) to welcome in the Spirit and the worship began.  I was overwhelmed by the commotion, the passionate and joyful worship featuring dancers with flags and tambourines, about 100 Malaysian flags, and at least 100 Sabah Flags.  The mayor of KK lead the blessing of the nation with over 100 of the city's pastors and people flooded the field, united together to pray.  As I watched, I stood in awe at the beauty of this place, the richness of its traditions and faith, the passion and pride of its people.

This is my home.

Exhaustion and Amazement

Sunday morning I stood and sang as the mostly Chinese congregation clapped with seemingly no sense of time in worship.  The music was surprising familiar, a welcomed comfort after two weeks of complete unknown.

It turns out, adjusting is hard.  Adjusting is accepting the insecurity that we know nothing.  Its acknowledging that we have no idea where we are going to eat, how to get around town, what people are saying almost all the time, and that everything we wear and do may be violating so many unwritten, cultural norms.  Its hard not to be paralyzed by this insecurity.  Hard to constantly observe people in a non-creepy way.  Hard to let the observations stay neutral observations while trying to figure out how I fit into this place.  Hard to not be right, or even to not know what is right in most every situation. Its an exhausting process.

Opposing that exhaustion is amazement at so many small surprises.  It's the shock on the local waitress's face as I manage to properly eat a full Chinese meal using chopsticks with my site supervisor; the excitement of the doorwomen as I say a simple, "Terima Kasih, Selemat malam," leaving a restaurant; the laughter of a Malaysian peer at the mall as I ask "Di mana Food Court?" covered in sweat after spending four hours wandering through KK.  I'm amazed at the beauty of the island beaches, towering lush mountains, and the fog and clouds that roll in before a heavy rain.  The teen who translated the entire service for us at a Malay speaking church and then took us to lunch and out for ice cream just because.  I'm amazed by the market vendors who struggled with us in Malay, working together to lean more about each other. The joy of delicious steamed chocolate cake from our incredibly loving language teacher, Ibu Laura, and the constant welcome and blessings from the students at STS, despite the fact we likely did so many things wrong.  And I'm amazed at the seven other young adults willing to be grown, change and molded by this place and the support, guidance and love of Peter, our country coordinator.

And now, I am finally here, at my site.  Despite only spending a full day here, I continue to be amazed.   Amazed by the openness and excitement of the people who were once mystery friends. Amazed by the staff at Jireh Home who encourage me constantly to not be shy, while sharing their lives and daily routine with me, despite desperately missing last year's volunteer.  I am amazed by the 31 students who live there, giving me little hugs each time they pass by and eagerly helping me learn more Malay.

As I reflect on these small surprises, I know God is the source of all of my amazement, the reason I am here.  The constant in my world that is currently very much so upside down and backwards from what it would be if I had simply went straight to graduate school.   So my prayer this morning as I continue the exhausting process of adjustment and observation is Psalm 62:5-6,

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; 

my hope comes from him.

Truly he is my rock and my salvation; 

he is my fortress, I will not be shaken." 

I am praying that as this places completely shakes my world view, I am able to continue to find strength, courage and grounding in God's grace and love.    

Home?

Last week Wednesday my orientation roommates and I dragged our bags around the corner to the next dorm over on a sleepy U of Chicago campus. We left our bags outside with some of the group already there and went to turn in our keys.  This simple task defined my day as the lady at the front desk said, "Have a safe trip home." My breath caught in my chest as I mumbled thanks and hurried outside where we began to laugh, which seems to be the easiest response to all things overwhelming.

We left the country last week for a completely differet home.  Our eighteen hours on a plane did not bring us to the familiar, comfortable known place that formed us in many different ways.  Instead our day of travel brought us to the complete unknown of the North Coast of Borneo.  The past week of orientation has been full of laughter as we navigate the unfamilar: trying to eat rice with chopsticks, learning Malay, handwashing our laundry with a little too much soap,  and chilling at the base of the mountain. Aside from the laughter, we have also started discussing what it means to be associated with the Christian church in a Muslim country, how the Malaysian government interacts and regulates religion, and how that affects the many different ethnic groups who call Malaysia home.

Amongst the deep conversations on our orientation mini-retreat we've also been spending the mornings hiking through the jungle at the base of Mt. Kinabalu, which was an incredible adventure. On our way up to the mountains we stopped for lunch in Tuaran, the town I will be placed in, for the local noodle dish. Catching a brief glimpse of the place I hope to call home for a year allowed me to remember that perhaps home actually is where  the heart is. Maybe my trip home is more of an ongoing search to find myself amoung the others of rich and complex new communities.

Radical Love

I gave the sermon this past week at my home church and a couple of people asked if I would have it somewhere - so here it is!

As you have likely heard I am preparing to spend a full year in Malaysia with the program Young Adults in Global missions, which we call YAGM.  What is YAGM?   Its a group of 57 young adults going out to accompany the local people.  As a pianist I am used to accompanying people.  Whether it be the picky soloist or the sleepy congregation, I have learned much from my musical accompaniment, working to listen attentively, adjust quickly and humble myself completely to the whims and desires of a different person.   Accompaniment as a model of mission focuses on walking alongside the people we are serving.  Similar to musical accompaniment, I will be learning to open my heart and listen fully in a different culture, adjusting and humbling myself to new perspectives and a completely different way of life.    The ELCA's mission model of accompaniment removes the line between "us" and "them" in order to more fully serve the local community exactly where they are...

...  I will be working at Jireh Home.   Jireh home is a children's home for kids from rural and impoverished parts of Malaysia without access to education in their villages.  The kids come to live at Jireh Home and go to school in Tuaran.  My job then is to provide after school mentoring with some conversational english tutoring.  But most importantly my job is to love.  

Saying that my most important job for a year is to love some likely adorable children in tropical Malaysia seems like a pretty good deal.  But I've spent a lot of time this past year thinking about what it means to love as Christ calls us.  The reading from 1 John 4:7 says, "This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his  Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."   In John 15:13, Jesus says, "No greater love has one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends."  In order to love we are told to lay down our lives, to give completely of ourselves for someone else's benefit. Basing our concept of love on Jesus' sacrifice  is radical, completely countercultural.  

As I worked to love radically on campus this past year, I found myself consistently drained, constantly frustrated and honestly a little bitter.  How can I keep loving the person who doesn't respond or reciprocate?  The friend who only knows how to complain about every possible thing?   How can I love the people who walk too slow when I'm late, who don't listen to or follow directions, who are just plain annoying seemingly all the time?  As I became more and more exhausted I started to wonder how I could love myself when I apparently couldn't love anybody else.    And it was then, that I read a devotional on Matthew 5: 14-16.  The verses read “You are the light of the world.  A city on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”  And the commentary on the verse reminded me that it is absolutely impossible for a lamp to shine if it is not plugged in. As imperfect humans, we can not shine for Christ without a direct connection.  I cannot shine by loving radically if I am not plugged in to God’s love.  I’ve learned that plugging in for me means spending time with God, in his word.  Without that, I have no energy source, nothing to drive me or refill me.  Without the radical love of the Father, I am useless in loving others.  

But just because I feel God’s love the most while spending quiet time with Him, doesn’t mean that is how you experience God and are most effectively in relationship with Him.  And I challenge you to think about when you feel most connected with God and make that thing a priority at least once this week.  Perhaps it is going for a run, allowing your thoughts and prayers to drive your feet.  It could be listening to or playing music that resonates deeply, talking  with a friend or family member who knows your heart, or reading the Bible or a thought provoking book.  And if what you try doesn’t work, pick something else for the next time, whether it be the next day or the next week.   I truely believe it’s important to understand how you feel the closest to God, to be plugged into His powerful love in order to love radically as we are called.  

In the process of becoming plugged into God’s love, It took me quite a while to realize how much He actually loves me, a fact I’ve known since I was tiny.  Jesus loves me was probably the first song I could sing.  However, it is one thing to know you are loved and another to comprehend and feel that love.  But once you do, there is nothing more to do than to shine, sharing it with every person you encounter.  When I started to understand that the of the creator of the world loved me because of the things I considered my fears, failures and insecurities, I began to understand how to love others for exactly who they were. Understanding and accepting where others are in their lives made it easier for me to love them radically.  As I began to walk deeper into real and honest relationships, I realized it was much harder for me to receive love than to share love.  It is so much easier for me to notice when other people need encouragement or care than it is for me to be completely vulnerable.  And as I spend the year accompanying the Malaysian people, I expect I will learn exactly what it means to be loved in places of vulnerability.   

I am leaving a a week for a country I know very little about.  I know one phrase in Malay from emails from my country coordinator, but I don’t know what it actually means.  I am certain I am going to need a lot of help from my team, the staff at the Jireh Home, and likely the children I am serving in order to function in Malaysia.  But in order to get help, I will have to ask.  As I learn the language and various cultural and societal norms, I have to be open in vulnerability and joyful in humility, realizing that growth happens exponentially when you are uncomfortable.

I am going to Malaysia for the year to love radically.  But you don’t have to travel to a developing country to shine with God’s radical love. There are people everywhere, likely many in your life that need radical love more than ever.

I wasn’t planning on going abroad to serve. Taking a year off was not in my plans. Living or studying abroad was something I would have liked to do, but not high priority.  It was a something completely in God’s hands that came up last fall, after finishing the grad school application process. It was something I ignored until God had put so many things in my way I couldn’t ignore it anymore.  Then there were so many reasons not to go – to miss a year seems like so long, with so many things happening in my family and friend’s lives.  Despite all of the reasons to not go, I knew it was where I was supposed to be, something I had to do.  At that point, I was excited to feel so passionately called to something.  However, when I started hearing back from grad schools about interviews and offers, the once intense pull I felt towards serving abroad decreased significantly.   After all, I had a plan, it was working out and I knew I could serve by loving at any of the grad schools I was interviewing at.  Was it necessary to go abroad when I am certain there are plenty of people doing nerdy science that have never experienced radical love?    But in my prayer time, I realized I needed to completely accept God's love and learn learn to be vulnerable and accept love from other people.   And it is in service and vulnerability that we learn to humble ourselves, letting God open and mold our hearts to the needs of a community.  It is in that relationship with new communities we are stretched and changed and grown to be more like the person God created us to be.  It is in loving radically that we see God in others and shine brightly for him.  For me, without taking the risk of the complete unknown, I could have maintained a lot fo control in my life.  But surrendering that control has already been an amazing process.

So my challenge for you is to be constantly plugged in.  Then love radically.  Love radically in your home.  Love radically at work.  Love radically at church, in your neighborhood and to those people who seem more annoying than describable.   I am spending a year in Malaysia, living to love radically and to be loved in vulnerability.  I pray you are able to spend your year plugged in, loving radically in your communities because He first loved us.   

The Adventure Begins

As you may know, I am spending this next year in Malaysia with the ELCA's program Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGM). The YAGM program sends young adults (19-29) to nine different countries across the globe as missionaries to accompany the community they are serving for a full year in their life.  Accompanying means walking alongside the community, learning, growing and loving with them.   I am excited to serve at Jireh Home in Tuaran, in the state of Sabah.  I am doing after school mentoring for the kids who live there, tutoring conversational english and possibly music and/or science. 

YAGM orientation in Chicago begins on August 15th, and we depart for our countries on August 22.  After arrival in Malaysia we will have about two weeks of orientation as a group (there are eight of us) before going to our placement sites!  As the summer quickly comes to a close, I am thankful for the time I've had at home this summer and the ability that gave me to visit with so many friends in so many different places.