Logos and Funerals: Day 2,180

Apparently, my day count was off by A LOT!  So, now it is fixed.  But the short version is that I complete 6 years here in less than 2 weeks.

So, after nearly 6 years, I've decided I should probably get important things like business cards which means having a logo which means making a logo which means designing a logo.  And since I'm not very good at drawing what I see in my head, I talked to an old high school friend about it.  I haven't heard back from her (but she wasn't optimistic that she'd be able to do it from where she's at anyway).  Today I saw an ad for someone who is here in Guatemala doing graphic design, and that's probably the more economic way of doing this anyway since living costs are lower here.  I sent her a message and she's optimistic about the project...and gave me a quote at the very maximum of what I can pay and still eat this month.  I might save half the money this month and then have her do it next month if I can't find anything more in the budget.

Also after nearly 6 years, I attended my first funeral in Guatemala yesterday.  I didn't know the young man (age 23) very well, but I taught his younger sister English for a few years, and she asked me to be there.  So, I went.  The funeral was 4 hours long, but it felt good to show up and support people going through the completely unexpected event of burying their son.  I was really nervous about going because I had never been to a funeral before, but fortunately (perhaps?) the young man who died was good friends with a young man who is associated with our family, and the deceased's family had asked him to be one of the people who carries the coffin; so, I attended the funeral with him and made the entire situation easier on both of us.

And then this morning my handsomer half called me to inform me that his uncle has passed away.  If he can get off work, we'll be attending that funeral as well; so I guess it's a good thing I got some practice going to funerals. 

Shoe Crazy: Day 2,089

Yesterday, Handsome and I went out to meet the families.  Most of them don't yet have their first-semester grades--they'll probably come out next week--but it's been about 2 months since I was out there.  I had planned to go in February, but one of our cats became ill--we think it was a spinal tumor--and was eventually put down.  So, Handsome's days off became "deal with cat" days instead of "drive shoes to Solola" days.

Anyway, the families were happy to see me and happy to see the shoes.  There is a rule of "one pair of shoes per person in the family," but I just kept recalling the story of the boy who realized that hard work does have rewards, and I didn't deny them a pair of tennis shoes and a pair of dress shoes.  I took my entire shoe stock out to Solola, and Handsome figures we brought back only 25% of it.  The rule mostly exists so that families don't just buy a lot of shoes and then go and sell them elsewhere for actual money.  Additionally, it takes a long time (and a fair amount of money) to get that many shoes bought and down to Guatemala, and my mother (predominantly) spends a LOT of time trying to get the sizes and styles which are most needed.

Some of the women look through the last remaining shoes in the box

Their purchases will be noted in Annalisa's binder

The crates were donated by one of our good friends at COTA and are very helpful for storing project materials.  Thank you!

Disappointment and God Reasons: Day 2,004

You might remember that about 2.5 years ago I dealt with a little disappointment concerning moving out to Solola where I thought I'd be more useful; I cannot find that I ever explicitly told you about this, but God had a reason for me to not move, and that was to watch two neighbor boys while their sisters were in school and mother was at work.  (Their grandmother had been watching them, but her son--who lived in another town--got sick; so she went to care for him.)

Right now I feel like I'm going through something similar.  A friend had thought about putting a bakery in one room of our house which was going to help out a lot with the rent; while I was in the States visiting family, she decided not to and didn't tell me.  So, I came back to that.  (She had posted on Facebook, but I hadn't seen it.  Still not a great way to find out.)

So, we talked about what to do with that room, and I had pretty much decided that I would use it as my office.

Today I found out that neither young lady will be coming to study in Antigua next year.  (One isn't going to study at all while the other will only be studying on the weekends in Solola.)  In short, we prepared our house to have two rooms not being used by us in addition to having a guest room...and then neither of those two rooms' intended purposes happened.

However, a friend called looking for a place to stay for a while and occupied my guest room a couple days ago.  And so I need another guest room.  But I have the room that was prepped for the girls.  (Okay, I don't *need* a guest room, but they're useful.)  In short, God knew I would need the space for my friend.  It doesn't really make it less disappointing that Mercedes and Wendy won't continue studying, but at least we didn't prepare the house for nothing.  And, trying to look on the bright side, as I don't have my residency yet, leaving the country in May was going to be difficult while juggling my responsibilities with them.

Myers Briggs and Jung: Day 1,938

I take a M-B style test roughly every year or two.  I find it fascinating to see how a person's personality changes with time.  When I came to Guatemala just over 5 years ago, I was very much an INFP; I had ranked as that since middle school.  After being at the Hogar and being a teacher, I became an INTJ.  For a long time after that, I kept scoring as an INTJ which for someone like me is frustrating because while I think that thinking is a good thing, I also think that feeling is equally important.  And while I like to have matters "settled" (a J characteristic), I'm always open for changes in plans (a P characteristic).  For example: I go into a meeting with a list of what we're going to talk about, but if I see that there is something more important to talk about, sure, let's talk about it!  While I make plans--just to not be fumbling around at the last minute and wasting others' time--they are 100% flexible to adjust to the needs of the group.

So, I have accepted that I am an intuitive (N) introvert (I), but beyond that, I'm a little more fluid.  On the T-F scale, while at the Hogar and teaching, there was little space for "Oh, well, this person is trying hard; so they can have a better grade."  No, there had to be a separate category for that on the grading rubric, usually called "participation."  Everyone had to be treated equally so that I wouldn't be accused of playing favorites or anything like that.  In my project, there's a little more flexibility, and I think Jeanne stated it best on Thursday that there's a point when you have to bend the rules simply to encourage.  A grade of 79 is my "hard limit" for earning the first point, but when a child's report card has a 78 or even a 77 as the highest grade, I'm no longer in a position where I have to say "No, tough luck."  My goal is encouraging kids to get better grades now, not grading them.  Yes, you may have a point.

So, I'm pleased to announce that today I tested as an INFJ.  The I, N, and F were all 82% strength while the J was only 64% reflecting my flexibility.

INFJ

Sensitive, empathic, and insightful, you care deeply about people, wanting to accommodate them on the one hand, and having strong visions that you desperately want to turn into reality on the other. Often preoccupied with mulling over your personal thoughts in your own head, others are likely to describe you as tolerant, courteous, and appreciative, but also a bit remote and dreamy. Thoughtful and caring, you have a well-developed facility for putting yourself in another person's place and an instinctive understanding of how people work. Though you tend to spend considerable time fantasizing about how society could be improved, you typically refrain from arguing passionately in favor of your solutions. Instead, you prefer to influence others by gently letting them know how their individual contributions would be invaluable in the greater scheme of things.

(From my results today.)

Some famous INFJs from history for you: Adolf Hitler, Osama bin Laden, Mahatma Ghandi, Thomas Jefferson, and Ron Paul.  Interesting mix which just goes to show that one's personality doesn't dictate what side of history one will be on.

If you'd like to learn more about the general concept, Wikipedia is a good start: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myers%E2%80%93Briggs_Type_Indicator

Putting Things on Pause: Day 1,870

Activism in Guatemala is pretty strong.  People are passionate about their country and their government.  This can be a good thing, and it can also be a dangerous thing.  For the last 20+ weeks, there have been protests, mostly in the capitol.

First, they were just about the president and vice president being corrupt.  The VP resigned.  But as the case opened up more and more, Guatemalans became outraged at the extent of the corruption.  Now the protests are against the national elections (and still against the president) which will be held on September 6th.  The people do not want elections under these conditions.  They want the corruption to be wiped out of Guatemalan politics before making a new start in January 2016.

And, at this point, the protests are no longer just in the capitol.  They are on many different roads in various parts of the country.  And so, without having my own vehicle, my handsomer half has asked that I pause my work in Solola.  Under normal conditions, I do not feel it is dangerous.  (To be fair, I don't feel it's dangerous to me right now either; I'm not a politician nor do I represent nor support any political party.)  However, he feels that traveling on public transport could result in me (and fellow passengers) being abandoned on the side of the road in some remote area of the highway between here and Solola.

So, for now, I'm staying close to home and getting stuff organized.  We have been looking at potentially changing houses; although, our eventual hope is to buy land to build on or a house.  Just keep us in your prayers, please, especially as my handsomer half works in the capitol.

Doing What You're Called to Do With What You Have: Day 1,827

There are days I get frustrated.  There are days when I say to myself, "I could do so much more good if I had X."  Some days "X" is "a bigger budget."  Some days "X" is "more man power."  Some days "X" is "a vehicle."  Some days "X" is "a large house either owned or rented with a contract."  Some days I look at other missions which I deem to be "more successful" than my own which usually means they have one or more of my Xs...and get frustrated because I see them wasting what they have been given.  But then I am reminded of a lot of wisdom from various places in my life, some of which I don't even remember the source of.

1.  Be still and know that [God is] God.

2.  While many men who have shown a romantic interest in me during the last 5 years have had only one thing on their mind--going to the US--my handsomer half has never had that interest.  In fact, he has only changed his mind about that since getting engaged to me because he knows that much of my family cannot or will not travel, and he knows that I want them to meet him.  Why is the US of no draw to him?  Because he is tired of seeing his countrymen (and women and children) making an expensive and dangerous journey to a far away country all in search of "a better life" which involves sending money to the people they abandoned back home.  He wants to prove that a Guatemalan can make it in Guatemala.  How does that apply to my situation?  Well, I have what I have...and while things of this world could make my ministry easier, Christians aren't necessarily called to an easier life.

3.  Matthew 25:14-30.  Brief summary: Rich guy gives his servants various amounts of money to invest for a certain amount of time.  Each was given a different amount.  Two of them invest the money and double it.  The last one hides the money in the ground and gives it back when the master comes back.  Sometimes I feel like that last servant.  I imagine we all do from time to time.  It's a plateau we hit where we doubt our abilities and become content with where we are or become scared of taking that next step.  We just want to hold on to what we have and try to not lose that...but that's not the point of life nor the point of ministry.

4.  Getting frustrated because someone isn't using what they have properly won't change my situation any besides giving me high blood pressure and raising my stress levels, and that has never helped anyone.  Stress less.

Day 1,815

There are some words I hear so very often and hate to hear: I could never do what you do.  Now, I know I'm not the only person who has heard those words.  I know a few mothers I know have heard those words as well, and I'm sure there are others.  And, to be completely honest, I have said those words myself on at least one occasion.

The fact of the matter is that you could probably do what I do.  Sure, it's harder if you have a house, spouse, kids, and a job in the United States (or wherever you happen to live).  Sure, it's harder if languages never interested you.  Sure, it's harder if...a lot of things.

The one occasion that I recall saying "I could never do what you do," I was talking to a friend of mine who has twins.  I really don't know how she does it.  But, you know what?  It doesn't matter.  She didn't know how to do what she does before God handed her those girls either.

If you think I could never do what you do, you're probably wrong.  You probably have never tried.  You probably have never needed to.  But when the time comes to step up to the plate (to whatever it is), you will succeed if it is worth it...because failure is not an option.

Marriage and Culture: Day 1,813

Before you decide this has something to do with a certain Supreme Court ruling, it doesn't; although, to some extent, it might have been more on my mind because of recent events in the United States.

In Guatemala, it's common for people to not marry...at least not for a long time.  Often, they "unite;" a woman--typically pregnant, sometimes with a baby--moves in with her boyfriend's family.  At that point, they start calling each other husband and wife or man and woman.  When I mentioned to people that I was engaged, a common response was "Oh, I didn't know you had a baby!" or "When is the baby due?"  One family member even went as far to put her hand on my belly and say, "May there be many more blessings!"  As a white, conservative (but independent) American, I was mortified.  (Please note that what I am about to say is different for each person and is in no way judging anyone else.)  To me, a man marrying me after I am pregnant with his child (or having had given birth to it), would border on obligation; I don't want a man to marry me because he feels obligated...or because I feel he feels obligated.

Here it is different.  Many Guatemalans, including my significant other, believe that a baby is a sign that God has given His blessing on the relationship, that this is the person that you are supposed to marry.  If a baby isn't born before either of the adults (or teenagers) in the relationship find someone they feel more strongly about, then it is decided that, despite however much sex they have had, the pair wasn't meant to be.

Handsome (my significant other) took a lot of convincing, but in the end, "I'm pretty sure my father would disown me if I had a baby before getting married" was what did it.  Family is important here, and he didn't really want to drive any wedges between myself and my original family.  And his mom loves me too even if we don't have a baby, and considering my past track-record with relationships, family and guy both loving me seems like divine blessing enough.

Blind Faith: Day 1,661

Some quick updates before what I came here to write:

1) My computer died at the beginning of January and I've thus far been able to find a good fix for it, but I'm working on it.

2) Yesterday I passed out school supplies and backpacks in Solola.  (More on that in a post a different day.)

---

On the bus yesterday a song came on the radio which I distinctly remember dancing to with my fiance...which made me remember where we were when we danced to it.  It was the birthday party of one of my neighbors.  She had turned 90-something, and, of course, everyone has a DJ come in for their 90-somethingth birthday, right?

My handsomer half has never had any formal dance training as far as I know, and any formal dance training I had was at least 7 years ago (more if we're talking about any style of dance they do down here).  However, when we dance, people stop and watch, even people who are long used to the blonde girl who lives in their midst.  We receive comments about how well we dance together.  And when I dance, I close my eyes; if I open them, we start messing up and tripping over one another.  When my eyes are open, I try to lead, and there can't be two leaders.

It made me think about the phrase "blind faith."  While I will agree with my apologetics-fan friends that one must be able to defend their faith, I also believe that faith itself must be blind.  I equate faith in most cases with trust.  If I need to oversee every detail, am I really trusting my partner or my God to lead as he (or He) sees fit?  If I feel that I need to watch my every step and everyone else doing their thing around me, and I having faith that another person is leading me in the path I should be in?  To have faith, I must relinquish control; I must close my eyes and go where my Lord leads me without trying to correct His steps.

Professional Development: Day 1,540

Today and Monday were busy and filled with exciting things (with more still to come this afternoon).  Yesterday, I just rested.  I was exhausted from Monday, from the weekend, from a lot of stuff.  So, you'll be getting two updates today, the first (this one) about the exciting stuff of today which isn't even over yet, and the second about Monday (which I'll probably backdate to have Monday's date on it).

Today, thanks to a college friend, Bethany, I was able to attend the morning session of a When Helping Hurts (or Helping Without Hurting) seminar at Northland Church via the internet.  Online participation was free and available to me here in Guatemala.  That was a big blessing for me.  It addressed a lot of interesting issues concerning helping the "impoverished."  The church is hoping to be able to make it available later.  If that comes to pass, I'll post the link here.  I know there are lots of short-term trip leaders who could benefit from the information presented at the seminar.  (Yes, I'm looking at you, Shawn, Lisa, and Robin!)  There will also be an afternoon session available at 3:30 EDT (an hour and a half from now) concerning microfinancing if anyone wants to attend.

In addition to having a conversation with my sending church, I'm also preparing to have a conversation with the people in my program.  I need to know what they think their gifts are, and I need to know if the program in its current state is helping the people (without creating dependency).  I need to know if they feel empowered.  I also need to find out why they are buying so much sugar with their points; they're going to need dentists soon...

In addition to the seminar, I'm going to figure out how to post pictures on my blog.  While usually there's some picture I could share, today I have one I'm excited to share.  So, give me some time and I'll be back with the other post for Monday's activities.

Distance & Cultural Connection: Day 1,535

I know, two posts in two days (less than 12 hours, really).  This never happens.  So, I'm a "member" at Velvet Ashes, and by "member," I mean the person who quietly sits in the background reading but not posting much.  It's a community for women [primarily] serving [primarily] abroad, and each week they give a topic to blog about.  Maybe you'll start seeing more of these topic response blogs.  (Not all of the topics apply to me.)  This week, their topic is Distance.  So, here is my response to the prompt:

The prompt mentions two extremes and gives examples.  One missionary so detached from her home culture that she never wanted to go Stateside, and one missionary so detached from her mission culture that she spent all her time on her computer (presumably online chatting with family and friends back home?).  It asks toward which do we lean.

In the United States, the culture pushes towards independence and freedom.  This results in a loss of familial connection.  Adults see their family (outside of spouse and minor children) a few times per year.  For the past FOUR YEARS (next month), I have visited my family once or twice per year.  (My first year, 3 times.)  I feel like I've somehow completed the requirements for "good family member."  That doesn't mean I agree with that aspect of culture, but it is what it is.

I'm not going to pretend that there aren't times when I spend the entire day on the computer.  There are.  Sometimes it's just trying to keep a hold of some idea of what the US culture looks like these days.  So many things change.  For most people who know me, that isn't a problem, but I remember going to hang out with my friend Elaine one one trip back, and we went to hang out with some friends of hers and play games all evening.  At one point I had no clue what who or something was, and someone asked me if I lived in a cave (not knowing at all what I do).  Admittedly, it was a wonderful conversation opener about what I do, but it was a little embarrassing. So, I try to stay up-to-date with at least a few current events, and I do my best to know something about politics so that when someone says "Benghazi," I don't ask "Is that a new car brand?"  (No, didn't happen.)

My fiance (a man from my host country) is attached to his cell phones.  He needs them for work, and work is 24/7.  His phones, because of his job, are not nice phones; they're simply small and meet his needs.  My phone, because of my job, is slightly nicer.  It's not an iPhone or a Blackberry (although both are available here); it's not even a "smartphone" (okay, a part of culture I haven't figured out yet...are those a separate kind of phone or is that a category that iPhones and Blackberries fall into?) or have wi-fi.  I will admit that I can get internet on it, but I don't.  My fiance is connected to his work 24/7, and when I have internet, I am connected to US culture.  That's not something I want 24/7; that's why I don't have internet on my phone (and why I'm glad it doesn't have wi-fi).

It's draining.  US culture is draining, especially for someone who has grown so used to a simpler life.  Which stars are dating?  Which stars are divorced?  What's the newest product in electronics? What did President Obama do this week?  Who got shot?  What rallies/movements are big?  Who won the basketball game?  Who won the football (American football, of course) game?  Who won the hockey game?  Who won the baseball game?  What's the weather like?  What's the top song on the charts?  What happened on "Days of our Lives?" (Is that show still on?)  And probably lots of questions I'm forgetting to ask!  I can't keep up with all that.  It would consume my entire day and all of my days.  (Obviously, the rest of you have some amazing ability that I don't have.  I am in awe...but not...because keep reading.)

Guatemalan culture is so much easier.  I need to know if Real Madrid or Barcelona won their futbol ("soccer," to all you US folks) game.  I may need to know if President Otto Perez Molina (or his VP) has done something interesting, and (unfortunately) I probably need to know if President Obama has done something interesting concerning Latin American relations.  Beyond that, I don't need to know anything, and really, I can avoid the first one by just saying that I'm not into sports; that is a halfway acceptable answer.

Getting back to the question at hand, when I'm in my house, connected to the internet, I am "connected" to my childhood culture.  My visits to the US fulfill my obligations as a single, adult daughter/sister.  When I am not on my computer, I am part of the culture here.  I go to the market.  I weave.  I talk to people.  I have a "goodbye" competition with the little boy at the bakery.  I ride the bus.  I visit my neighbors.  However, because I am an introvert, I think I still interact more with my childhood culture than I do with my host culture.  It is easier for me to be in front of the computer, behind the screen.  But, guess what?  When I'm in the US, it's easier for me to be in front of the computer, behind the screen, communicating with my friends here!

The prompt also asks "What helps you in prioritizing your time and relationships?" and I think I already touched on that when I was talking about my phone/the internet.  When I am on-line, I am 99% immersed in my childhood culture.  There are some nights when I forget for a moment what country I'm in until I look up from the screen.  When I am not on-line, I am 99% in this culture.



On a random, mostly unrelated note:  I was once translating for a team and one young person had never seen a manual window (on a car).  He/She said "Wow, I never understood why they said 'roll up/down the window' before!  I just thought it was some sort of expression."  I was looking at the word "on-line" in that last paragraph and thinking "Kids these days probably don't know where that one comes from either."

Me, not the "Gringa on the Ground": Day 1,534

Just because a person doesn't talk about something doesn't mean it doesn't exist, that it isn't real.  Tonight I'm going to talk about me, Annalisa, 29-years old, holder of a bachelor degree and two associates, massage therapist, cat lover, Christian missionary, woman.  I believe that behind every person, there is a story; there is something that makes us who we are.  There is something that drives us.

I believe that I'm not good enough.  Don't mistake that as a low self-esteem.  I simply believe that on a long-term basis, people deserve someone better than myself in their lives.  Quite frankly, I don't know if any such person exists.  I recognize that I am a human being, a really flawed human being.

I have had a lot of opportunities in my life, many of which I have taken advantage of.  I had some pretty good parents as far as parents go.  At the very least, they were supportive of my brother and I and kept us fed and clothed, clean and dry.  (They're better than that, but we'll just leave that topic there.)  And besides that, I was privileged.  Maybe they didn't buy me those horses I wanted (and probably wouldn't have cared for properly), but they made sure that I had a good education, went to some camps, and was able to participate in extra-curricular activities.  We had enough money for those things.

Not everyone has opportunities like I had.  I know I'm not a real go-getter like some people.  I won't retire by the age of 30.  I don't have kids.  I don't own my own house.  I've never been in a newspaper or magazine let alone featured on the cover.  (Hey, "Kids Say" in the local paper when I was 7 years old--or however old it was--probably doesn't count.  Nor does the alumni update section of my high school alumni magazine.)  And I recognize that there are people who deserve all of that but might never achieve it, and I feel guilty.  I feel guilty for using resources to become this person with this amazingly incredible life that I don't feel I deserve.

And that's a large part of why I'm here.  I'm looking for kids who push and push to become everything they want to be, everything they are capable of being.  Kids who aren't afraid of taking the bull by the horns but aren't able to because they can't afford the bull.  I'm looking for kids who will take the opportunities I was given and the privilege I was born with and will make their future better and brighter.

And it's pathetic.  I look at the things I can do, the things I'm good at (or, rather, "the things at which I'm good," with grammar theoretically being one of them?), and I am shocked and disgusted with myself.  I could be anything I put my mind to ("to which I put my mind"...yep, not going to care about dangling prepositions anymore tonight nor starting sentences with "And" and "But"), and I wonder why I'm not more.  I wonder why I didn't become something I'm capable of becoming.  No, I'm not calling myself a failure either.

I'm engaged.  I almost called my fiance tonight and told him that everything is off.  Instead I sent him a text that simply said "I miss you" (in English, which he isn't that good with).  He is one of those people who isn't afraid to take the bull by the horns, and he's not afraid of working hard to buy the bull.  And the idea of him being stuck with me for the rest of his life is something that scares me.  But it's okay to be scared.  We complement each other, not only him and I, but also the kids I work with and myself.  He and the kids are incredible.  I might have "all the answers," but they're the ones with the drive.

I'm not good enough.  That's why God brought me to them and them to me.  We have what each other needs.

Racism, the US, and a reaction: Day 1,503

Some of you know that one of my main methods of communicating with friends both in the US and all over the world is via Facebook.  As I was catching up on what everyone has been up to tonight, I saw that a college friend of mine had posted an article.  (Please take a moment to click on that link as the rest of this will all make a lot more sense if you at least know what the article is about.)  My first response to her link was "I'm not average," but I was.

When I lived in the US--4 years ago--all of my friends were white.  I had one black friend from college.  I had one half-Latino friendly acquaintance. My only Asian "friends" were my adopted cousins.  And, via marriage, my family is a little more diverse than some.

Today, my "first language" is Spanish.  It's the language I draft my speeches in.  It's the language I assume everything is in when there is little context.  (I was playing a game with animals in it the other day and the mouse-over tag for one animal was "llama."  My brain processed the word as though it was Spanish.)  It's often the language I speak to my pets in.  It's pretty much the only language my fiance and his family speak.  It's the language my neighbors speak.  And it's pretty much the only language I'll respond to on the street...no matter how many times the men yell at me "Good morning, my love!" as I walk past.

Today, the majority of the friends I interact with on a daily basis are Hispanic.  Most of my neighbors are Hispanic.  The only white people I typically interact with are an interesting group of "I'm here until I'm not" kind of people.  The short-termers--people here for a couple months--and the retirees are folks who I don't hang out with because I have essentially nothing in common with them (see article).

The conversation on my friend's Facebook page then turned to people of mixed race and how they feel/see the world.  I'm not mixed race, but I do consider myself to be bicultural at this point and I recognize that my children will be mixed race.  Which is when I started typing the following response and realized all of it would make a better blog post:

I also think that it is very different for people such as myself--which is why I stated that I'm not average, but I was before I came here--who have spent substantial time in a foreign (and non-white) country.  If I were to return to the US, I might make a decision to live in a Latino neighborhood.  But, then again, I might not.  The fact is that my neighbors here understand that there is no "white neighborhood."  (Okay, there is a white city.  I lived there for 6 months.  I hated it.  I worked too hard to pay the rent and too little on the reasons I'm down here.  In the town I now live in, there's no white neighborhood.)  My neighbors accept that I do things their way because that's the way things are done here.  I feel that if I moved to a "Latino neighborhood" in Michigan (somewhere in Pontiac or Detroit?) that my neighbors wouldn't be as accepting of me...even with my (future) Latino spouse because, let's face it, la gringuita tiene muchas opciones; no tiene que estar aqui mostrando sus 'riquezas' ("The little white girl has lots of options; she doesn't have to be here showing off her 'wealth.'") or so they'd probably think.

To be quite honest, if I were in the US, I'd rather be a poor, white girl in a white neighborhood than I would a poor white girl in a non-white neighborhood.  It's a race thing that I've encountered a lot down here, especially when I was living in the "white city" or even when I go there now.  Non-white people assume that white people have money.  White people don't assume that about white people; although they do assume that most non-white people don't (except for Asians and Jews).  So, if I were to live in the US, I would prefer to live among people who don't assume anything about my wealth or lack thereof...which would lead to increased potential for white friendships and decrease potential for non-white friendships.

Which actually leads me briefly to the topic of "reverse racism."  First of all, the definition of racism is as follows: "The belief that all members of each race possess characteristics, abilities, or qualities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races" (Oxford Dictionary).  So, really, in my mind, "reverse racism" should take that definition and put a "not" in it.  "White people are rich" is a racist statement.  Guess what?  I don't have extra income.  I eat meat maybe once per month because I don't have money to buy it otherwise.  And, sure, I have a "Mommy/Daddy/Brother, get me out of here" button--something my neighbors don't have--that I can press whenever I want, but it's a one-way trip to a life I don't want to have, a life I wasn't called to, a life I would probably detest.

I recently read something that said that women's brains are like wires: everything is connected to everything else.  I guess that's sort of how this post reads as well...

Affordable Care Act and Foreign Living: Day 1,465

The Affordable Care Act (or "Obamacare") is something that has sparked a lot of controversy in the US.  "Every American will have health care!"  I get it.  I do.  Everyone has the right to life.  But what about us Americans who live outside of the country?  What about those of us who live in countries with health care so inexpensive that we just don't bother with medical insurance?  Don't worry...they thought about that.  Americans who spend over 330 days per year outside of the US do not need medical insurance.  (I'm still not sure how they figure that out.)  But what does this mean for me as my parents get older?  What does this mean for me if there is some emergency in my family and I need to go to the US to help take care of things?  So, from over 2,000 miles away--and with the help of my mother--I registered for Government Health Care and was accepted.  I am not proud of the fact that I now take your tax dollars just so I can be in the country for more than 35 days of the year.  I'm actually quite ashamed...that the United States is denying their own citizens the right to be in their own country.  As my own mother recently said (in reference to something else): "They can't really keep you out."  Maybe not, mom, but they sure can make it difficult to be there.

The Things I Won't Say...And What I Wish You Would Part 1: Day 1,428

I recently took a trip to the US to visit some of my family and friends, and as always happens, people inevitably say stuff that I have no clue how to respond to.  Sometimes it's just a question without an answer, but sometimes it's somewhat hurtful as well.

You say: How long are you home for?
I think:  First of all, I'm not home.  Some days I'm not sure where home is or, rather, if I have one, but this is not home.  Second of all, it's really none of your business how long I'm here for.  You weren't making plans to hang out with me anyway.
I say: I'm here for two weeks.

You say: It must be nice to be home.
I think: Again, I'm not home.  And while it is nice to catch up with people, I have two cats and a dog who I worry about while I'm here.  I have people who might want to meet with me.  And I have much better downtime activities in Guatemala than I do here.  I have numbers to crunch and projects to stay on top of.  Really, this trip cuts into my life, but the Guatemalan government kicks me out ever 180 days.  I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be.
I say: It's nice to see people.

You say: I really like reading your newsletter articles.
I think: Yeah, well...I haven't written one in two months.  People haven't been scheduling the meetings like they were supposed to. I'm frustrated, and I feel like a little bit of a failure since I don't have news to share with you.  So, I just don't write.  I mean, what do you want me to tell you?  That I've spent the last two months learning to cook Guatemalan food and weaving? Do missionaries even do that kind of thing?
I say: Thanks.  You know, I write more posts on my blog as well if you want more to read. (Er, sometimes.)

You say: It must really be different being back.
I think: Whew!  At least you didn't say 'home.'  But I'm not really 'back' either.  I'm more of a traveler passing through.  And of course here is different from there.  I mean, you throw your toilet paper in the toilet here!  Your food comes out of cans and boxes!  I'm staying in a house with insulation, two freezers, and a television!  When I'm here, my parents fund my stay; they let me use the car and they buy me food.  Here I live with people instead of animals.  Here my neighbors are far away while there I have a neighbor who calls me to come over to her house by yelling over the wall.  Here I drive, and there I use public transportation.  Here I speak English and there I speak Spanish...and sometimes the few words of Kaqchikel that I know.  Here I hardly walk anywhere; there I walk everywhere.  I mean, YES!, it's as different as night and day or black and white or any other opposites you can think of.  Okay...maybe not opposites, but different, very different. I don't even know where to start explaining the differences to you.  But DIFFERENT ISN'T BAD...just different.
I laugh and say: Well, yeah, the language for one.

You say: So, you meet anyone yet?
I think: Well, sure, I meet people all the time, but that's not what you're asking here.  I just don't know how to explain to you that while there is someone super important and special in my life, that's not why I'm down in Guatemala.  That's not why I prefer there to here.  That's not related at all.  And I know you're thinking that I must be getting old.  And I know you're thinking that a woman like me shouldn't stay single.  But with my relationship track record, it's not something I'm really comfortable talking about until I know it's going to happen.  I can be as sure as I want, but until the documents are signed, I kind of figure it won't work out for me.  So, while I'd love to tell you all about him, I won't...because it's complicated being in a relationship with someone from another culture.
I say: All in God's timing.

Bilingual: Day 1,219

I had a thought the other day that I really love hanging out with other Spanish-English translators.  We don't have two languages in which we communicate; we have three.  People think that Spanglish is for amateurs, but I tell you that it is for the pros.

I can't think of any examples right now in English, but there are some things in every language that just are awkward to say; however, since we don't know any better--we don't know they are awkward--we just keep saying them.  There are also things that we used to say in English which were more efficient but now we don't say them that way because the word has become antiquated.  In Spanish, it's easy to give an example off my head:
My father's mother's mother's father's mother was Native American.
La mama del papa de la mama de la mama de mi papa era indigena de los EE.UU. ("The mother of the father of the mother of the mother of my father was indigenous of the U.S.")  All of those "of the" is just ridiculously complicated if you ask me.
Then there are words that exist in English that don't exist in Spanish such as siblings and grandparents.  Sure, you could say "hermanos" for "siblings," but it could also mean just "brothers."  The same goes for "abuelos" which could mean either "grandparents" or "grandfathers" (most people have 2).

I guess the best examples I can think of in English off the top of my head have to do with verbs.  In English, you need to have a pronoun (or name) in front of a verb to explain who the subject is.  In Spanish, because the verbs are constantly changing--probably the hardest part of Spanish to learn--you usually don't need to explain who/what the subject is because it's included in the verb.
Quiero dormir.
I want to sleep.  You could say "Yo (I) quiero dormir," but it's completely unnecessary.
Necesitas lavar los trastos.
You need to wash/do the dishes.

So, when we speak Spanglish, we can come out with this:
"Tengo que lavar los trastos y la ropa, pero les encontrare at John's house at 3." instead of
"I have to wash the dishes and the clothes, but I will meet you all at John's house at 3." or
"Tengo que lavar los trastos y la ropa, pero les encontrare en la casa de John a las 3."

Some of us fall in and out of languages easier than others.  I'm not sure I'm bilingual at this point.  I think I just have one language with a very large vocabulary and two sets of grammar rules.  Just as when you use English and modify your vocabulary based on your audience, I do the same thing.  However, it's not so much based on how advanced the words are as it is the "type" ("language") of vocabulary.

Just some idea that has been floating around in my head for a couple of weeks...

Two Degrees of Separation: Day 1,216

Today I found out that there are two degrees of separation between myself and Olympic gold medalist Charlie White; one of my friends is his former classmate.  I also realized today that there are two degrees of separation between myself and the Guatemalan president, Otto Perez Molina.  If you're not sure what I mean by "degrees of separation" it comes from a theory that everyone is connected by 6 degrees of separation in which it states that everyone through six friendships/connections knows everyone in the world.  (After reading that Wikipedia link earlier today, I'm convinced that this is why Facebook doesn't want you to friend people you don't actually know; it's screwing up their data.)  I'm also connected to President Obama by two steps; I feel so political now.  But it's not the people who I'm connected to by two degrees of separation that this entry is about; it's about the people who I'm connected to by one degree of separation.

Sometimes I feel like all I do all day is sit around and send out e-mail to people:  "So-and-so, this is Other-so-and-so.  You two could do a lot of good together.  This is the contact that you can use."  "So-and-so, have you heard of this organization?  I've worked with them before, and I know they can help you out with your problem."  "So-and-so, if you want, I have someone who can take a look at this for you."  "So-and-so, I know where you can buy that at a fair price."  Sometimes I feel like I do nothing, but sometimes I understand that I am that link. I am the bridge. I am that degree of separation who is willing to take herself out of the equation.



And, yes, if you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to get better about frequent updates.

Colorblind: Day 1,204

I came to a realization a couple weeks ago as I was brushing my teeth in a hotel bathroom in front of a mirror.  First of all, you should know that no sink in my house has a mirror in front of it.  In fact, the two mirrors I have had have broken: one poorly packed in a move, and one as I slammed a door to escape someone.  Fortunately, I'm not superstitious. However, when I moved into the house I currently live in, the previous renters had left behind a dresser with a mirror.  They told me someone would be coming to pick it up; a year and a half later, I'm doubtful.  Anyway, since I don't touch it, the mirror is quite dirty after two dry seasons hitting it with dust; so it's not like I see much in it anyway.

Anyway, looking in this mirror in the hotel bathroom, I suddenly realized that I am white.  Admittedly, I have somewhat of a perma-tan going; although, compared to my friend Ashley who after just one year in Guatemala rivaled the skin color of our only mutual Guatemalan friend, I'm pretty pale.

But this doesn't really have anything to do with the physical color of my skin.  This has to do with the fact that when I wake up in the morning, I wake up like any Guatemalan.
When I take a shower, I take a shower like any Guatemalan...including, still, cold water.
When I wash my clothes, I wash them like any Guatemalan...by hand.
When I wash my dishes, I wash them like any Guatemalan...by hand.
When I speak Spanish, I speak it like any Guatemalan.
Most everything I do, I do like any Guatemalan.  So, when I look in the mirror and see a white girl, well, it surprises me.

Humbled and Honored: Day 1,174

I am sitting here next to a binder which contains information on 45 families and scraps of paper with names scribbled on them for about 4 more families who we have not had the time to visit as part of the application process to the program.  This binder also contains 22 nearly blank sheets--11 edged in blue and 11 edged in orange--for the 22 families who will be starting this exciting journey with us on Wednesday.

And I feel greatly honored that God has selected me to head up this program and that these people are giving me the time of day.  And I feel greatly humbled because, middle-class or not, I came from a privileged life compared to these people.  I was provided for my entire life up until now.  I can't imagine what it's like to be an 11-year old selling gum on buses every day so that my family has something to eat.  So, I feel humbled because they know more about hard work than I think I'll ever know.

Just 36 hours to go...

Merry Crimemas: Day 1,158

So, after 1,158 days (or 3 years, 2 months, and 2 days) of living in Guatemala, I finally had my bag slit in the Antigua market.  I was pretty much the only person I knew (Guatemalan or American who lives here) who hadn't had it happen; so I consider it to be a right of passage of sorts.  The would-be thief cut through three layers of my bag but didn't manage to find anything worth stealing.  Joke's on them, but I'm the one left with a bag to repair.  *sigh*

I guess the bright side is that I was carrying my recent purchases of flour and oatmeal in my hand.  If I had put them in my backpack as I typically do, I might have made a nice little white trail behind me through the market...and arrived home without any more flour than I woke up with.