I love how bringing my tereré to work is now normal for me. No one asks me “Hey, did you bring your weed today?” I just realized this fact as a friend of mine came by, saw my guampa, and said “I have a standing order (from his fianceé) to ask you if you need anything from Starbucks, but it looks like you’re fine.” I never showed it to him (but his fianceé had some) and yet he knows that it’s my caffeine.

Prayer partners are nice. Just knowing people are lifting you up to God is comforting.

For the first time in my life I love being unsure about my future. I have no idea what is going to happen in the coming years, but I know that God does, and that is completely exhilarating.

Jesús, por ti yo viviré
de ti nunca me avergonzaré
Te doy todo lo que soy
Toma, tómalo! Toma, tómalo!

-j

This is the last of the “official” posts from my trip. I may post things here and there, but you all already have enough to read.

It’s safe to say that my perspective on life has changed. When I went to CLM, my perspective on some things changed – I think I became more compassionate, some material things didn’t mean anything to me, and I was able to see life outside of the US and be more thankful for what I have here. But coming back from Paraguay has thrown my perception of life in the States on its head.

I felt so alone and out of place as I stood in the Richmond airport waiting for my luggage to come around on the conveyor (it never did, but showed up at my door three days later). I became aware that I could now understand the people around me and really found that I detested what I heard. I specifically remember hearing teenage girls talking with more attitude than necessary about some other girl being annoying (if they only understood the irony), and the disrespect and self-elevation with which they spoke about adults made me sick to my stomach. Our kids are raised believing they’re at the center of the world and nothing else matters besides their comfort. That’s how life in North America is in general. I feel I can say that because that attitude in my own life wants to come back once in a while.

I read this in a devotional form Rick Warren as I filtered through my email upon my return to high speed internet. I really liked what it said, because it captures very well the way my mind is thinking right now.

So much of what we waste our energy on will not matter even a year from now, much less for eternity. Don’t trade your life for temporary things. Jesus taught, “Anyone who lets himself be distracted from the work I plan for him is not fit for the Kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:62, LB) And then Paul warned, “Deal as sparingly as possible with the things the world thrusts on you. This world as you see it is on its way out.” (1 Corinthians 7:31, Msg)

Whether it was Sarah claiming she was too old to be used by God or Jeremiah claiming he was too young, God rejected their excuses: “‘Don’t say that,’ the Lord replied, ‘for you must go wherever I send you and say whatever I tell you. And don’t be afraid of the people, for I will be with you and take care of you.’” (Jeremiah 1:7-8, NLT)

Being in Paraguay made me realize that I’m far too rooted in the States to be able to just go when God tells me to. My life here is very comfortable, and as a result I don’t think about God’s greater vision for my life enough. I’m not saying He has me pegged for Paraguay (I wouldn’t mind it though), but I have been too accustomed to being here, making my own plans even though I sought God’s heart in making them. Plans are necessary to make sure you’re actually doing something, but it would be impossible for me right now to pack up and leave without being chased by the Feds. I want to be able to go wherever I’m sent and say whatever I’m told to say. I want to be like Jesus’ disciples, who dropped everything – EVERYTHING – to go the second he said “Follow Me.” My family doesn’t like to hear stuff like that, especially if it means I may end up in some remote place, but this world is not my home, I’m just passing through, and I’ve never felt it like I do right now. I hope that feeling never dies. In the meantime, I want even more to be used where God has placed me, and right now that’s in Richmond, Virginia.

-j

If a day was “typical”, it went something like this:

5:15 am – get up
6:30 am – arrive at school for devotions
7:00 am – kids get to school
some time between 7am and, say, 11am – teach with Ellen
1:30 pm – back at school for afternoon set
4:30 pm roughly – finish at school, chill at Ellen’s until evening activity
OR 3:30 pm – head back to Oscar and Karen’s for lunch
evening – something fun, usually
8:30 – dinner
9:30 – bed, out like a light

Of course not every day was the same. We had Monday’s off, so the first Monday we went into the Centro (downtown) to exchange our money and do a teensy weensy bit of sightseeing at the Panteón Nacional de los Heroes. The second Monday we had a picnic at the Zoo and Botanical Garden with the Canadians who came. Also that second week there were two holidays, Fundación de Asunción (Founding of Asunción) and Día de los niños (Children’s Day), so we only taught two days that week.

We also visited Cerro Lambaré, which is this random hill in the middle of the town with a large statue to Chief Lambaré. We did a lot of walking that day…

On Wednesday during the second week, we visited the campo, which is the Paraguayan countryside. One of the teachers, Sara, lives there with her family. And when I say her family, I mean ALL of it. Their church there is made up of her family. As we walked to the church, Sara would say “Jason, say hello to my cousin. Jason, say hello to my grandma. Jason, say hello to my sister.” It’s like a little neighborhood where all her family lives. They’re sugar cane farmers, and for the first time in my life, I ate honest-to-goodness pure sugar, straight from the cane. It was delicious. We also ate severe amounts of the most delicious oranges I’ve ever had in my life. Only we should have called them “greens” because that’s what color they were. I don’t get Paraguay…the lemons are orange and the oranges are green. And sometimes you get a really amazing lemon that is olive green on the outside and bright orange on the inside. Gorgeous!

I just pulled some sopa out of the oven, and I can’t wait to eat some!

-j

[Update: my sopa was just ok...it's better than nothing, and not bad for the first batch, but it's not the same as in Paraguay.]

This was the 4th grade morning class singing a song. We sang lots of songs. This is my favorite class. But don’t tell the other kids.

I’ve talked a lot in general terms, now I’d like to share a few of the experiences that come to mind.

Staying with Karen and Oscar was kind of like a haven for me because after a hard day of speaking Spanish and struggling to understand, I could return to English. When I was at home, it didn’t really feel like Paraguay. Their home is fairly Americanized compared to the other homes in the area (ok, it’s *really* Americanized compared to the other homes), and everyone but Oscar is very comfortable in English. Karen did make us Paraguayan food, so it wasn’t completely American.

We had to jump right into Spanish, or castellano as they call it there, though. The people knew we spoke castellano, and they wouldn’t let us get away with speaking English. The very first night we were already addressing the church in Spanish, and while it was really bad (it had been a while since I had to use it), they got our point and welcomed us in. After about a week, I felt much more comfortable speaking and understanding and didn’t need my security blanket as much. I remember one conversation with Pastor Pedro where I got stuck (the conversation was kind of deep), and called for Ellen, and Pedro wouldn’t let me use a translator. That was pretty cool. They were all very patient with me, and by the end of the trip Oscar told me my accent wasn’t bad at all. I figure I would need about 3 months to consider myself fluent. I’d like to try it one day.

I think the kids were kind of surprised when we started answering them in Spanish. At that point, though, if they wanted to say something inappropriate, they could do it in Guarani, but at least there were enough people who knew Guarani to keep the masses under control.

-j

The previous post was me venting. This one is my “official” post for today.

The people of Paraguay are some really hospitable folk. The family JC and I stayed with seemed really happy to have us. At church that night they were all coming up to us, greeting us, and welcoming us into their church family. That particular night was a smaller reunion (generally it was for the members only, but there were some kids there too) specifically to speak about tithing and afterwards we shared snacks brought by several of the sisters. But instead of getting a plate and going through a line, we stayed in our seats and the food was brought to us. Each one was very happy to share their food with JC and I (as well as everyone else, but they all wanted us to try their Paraguayan delicacies). They kept it coming too. We didn’t need to eat dinner that night for all of the snacks we had at church. It was a really nice time of getting to know the people.

They love sharing. Things don’t necessarily belong to them, they’re just using things until someone else needs them. I was talking with a couple ladies, and one of them said to the other “That’s a nice bracelet, where did you get it?” The other one replied, “I made it. Do you want it?” Before the answer even came, the bracelet was coming off the wrist. That’s how they are. We brought the children fancy pencils, and several of them gave me one of their pencils as a trade. I came home with a beaded bracelet, a small eraser, two pencils, a sticker, and a small geometry ruler. It’s not about the things there, it’s about the giving. I didn’t even ask for those things, they just gave them to me. And they were small children!

Something that is very Paraguayan is mate in the cold times and tereré when it’s hot out. People will be sitting in groups talking, and someone will begin serving the tea drink. The host pours the tereré into the guampa and passes it around. When a person finishes the cup, it goes back to the host for a refill and then gets passed to the next person. This continues until the people are gone or no one wants any more. The same guampa and bombilla (a straw with a filter) are used by everyone, and no one gives it a second thought. Today I shared some at work, and some people were too squeamish to try some because of it! Paraguayans just have the mindset that everything is shared. If they have it and you need it, it’s yours. I’m hoping to adopt that mindset for myself. Nothing’s really mine anyway, right? I just get to use it for now.

Ellen rents a house from a lady who lives in the front of the lot. She’d never met us, and she doesn’t go to the church so she doesn’t really have a reason to care who we are. One morning, JC and I went to Ellen’s before any of the girls were up yet, so we waited on the patio. Before long, her landlady had invited us in for breakfast, and we sat at her table drinking coffee and eating rolls with guava marmalade while she told us about her sons, her class (she’s a teacher), and her life. She gave us a tour of her home before we went back to Ellen’s. It was like she had known us since we were small.

If you want to visit someone, just go! More than once we stopped by the “office” of a lady from church just to hang out. She didn’t stop working necessarily (although Rey usually did, but he just likes to talk), but she welcomed us in and showed us around and even invited us bowling, though we didn’t end up going. One day a teacher was trying to find the house of a guy from church, and Ellen and I walked him to the house. We were barely through the gate when three more seats opened up in the circle for us, and we sat and talked and drank tereré. I was there for probably an hour just talking with people I hadn’t really met well. They just have time for you if you stop by. It’s really very cool.

I think the impact of the people on me is taking its toll, because I’m sitting at home going crazy for some Paraguayans to visit. I really could live there; I think my heart is Paraguayan.

-j

I am going insane wishing to be back in Paraguay. I almost feel like I can’t breathe without being in South America. I still don’t feel comfortable here, and the past three days have been in somewhat of a daze. I went down there pretty sure about my life. I knew I was going to begin pursuing a Psychology degree. I knew where God was taking me, and I was happy, comfortable. All I thought about in Paraguay was how much I wanted to be there serving God, and now all of my seguridad from before I went is gone. Is this culture shock? Is this Jesus turning my world up-side-down in order to make me into something better, to loosely borrow from a Jars of Clay song, to turn something good into something beautiful? I guess after three days it’s hard to tell, but I really would like to know. I feel like I’m grasping at straws to find a connection back to the people who are still in Paraguay. I know that they don’t get to the internet much, but it’s hard to wait.

Who knew someone could feel this way about a country?

-j

[Quick Update: I posted the pictures I have on my flickr account.]

Being at the school also means being at the church, for they share facilities. Actually, the church used to be in part of the current school, but now the templo is the church building and also serves as the chapel for the school. The school’s chaplain is one of the three pastors of the Lambaré church.

When talking about the church, they’re referring to the people who make up the Body. The services are called reuniones, which I think is fitting. It’s a reunion, a “joining again”, every time there are services at the church. The connotation for me is different than saying “church service”. The fact is, there isn’t a whole lot of serving going on at services, except for those who do the leading. It really is more of a reunion.

Entonces, the church there is really great, made up of lovely people who love having visitors and whose hearts are always open to anyone who wants to come and fellowship (as said to me by a pastor’s wife). I felt at home within days of being there and even had a chance to play for Worship on the one Saturday night I was there. That apparently impressed some people because it showed that I did feel totally comfortable and wanted to jump right in and serve with them. I’m glad they felt that they could consider me family.

Being in a completely foreign church where I almost literally didn’t know anyone (I knew three of them already, but none of them very well) showed me what real unity in Christ means. It means I can visit a country half-way around the world, show up at church, and play in their praise team. It means I can go to the pastor’s house for dinner, tell him I feel like family, and hear him tell me he feels like I’m family too. It means that we can share in each other’s joy and sadness even across language barriers. It means that right now I have dozens of people praying for me to come back because they love me so much after just two weeks. It has nothing to do what they did or I did but everything to do with what Christ has done in our lives and the fact that we share that bond, His blood.

They live their ministry every day there. Some of them have other jobs, but it seems like for each one their priority is what the church needs. Several of the members work at the school, so they’re always there. The templo doors are always open, literally. The school serves as a mission field for the city. Several of the members of the church came initially because their kids went to the school. Some of the testimonies of these people are really amazing. These people are amazing.

My favorite part is how you always have to greet everyone. Make eye contact, shake hands or give two kisses (Dios te bendiga!), and smile. I will admit that I didn’t do this every time, mostly because I had a hard time hearing and understanding everyone while I was in the building, but I tried to do it whenever I was outside. It’s a really nice practice that many of our churches in North America still keep to a large degree.

These are a praying bunch of people too. They essentially have the attitude of “Why shouldn’t I ask God for something?” They pray for *everything*. I love it. They’re thankful for the cold because it means the ground can get ready for planting season. They’re thankful for the heat after the cold because it reminds them that God is a God of order. If they need money to fix a car, they pray for it. If someone’s sick, they pray for healing. If someone has received some sort of blessing, they pray in thanks to God for His goodness. I’m almost afraid that they’ll pray me back to Paraguay permanently before I’m ready to go!

-j

After such a whirlwind experience, what’s left is to remember.

Over the next few posts I will attempt to relive my time in Paraguay. It won’t be a chronology of events, but rather a classified summary of experiences. I’ll try to make each post small enough for my friends still in Paraguay to read (they have a slow connection and pay for the time they spend online). I’ll start by describing the school.

Our days started with a staff devotion time with several of the other teachers. Each one got greeted before and after our little moment of fellowship. I appreciate those times because it helped me learn who was who faster also got us accustomed to hearing Spanish again (we generally spoke English at home). It also helped to focus my heart on my purpose. The devotion with the most impact (probably because Juan was looking directly into my eyes almost the whole time) was about being ready to walk through a door when God opens one. I realized I can’t do that if the door leads me away from the US for an extended period of time.

I worked at Adonai with Profe Ellen teaching English to kindergarten, first, second, and fourth grades. The school’s students are divided into a morning and afternoon session, so we basically did the material twice a day each with a different group of kids. They can’t read this yet, so I’ll go ahead and say that fourth grade in the morning was my favorite, but each group of kids is very special to me. We taught seasons, days, months, colors, objects, and phrases, and we sang a song in each class. I think that was my favorite, and while I grew to be embarrassed of my part in one particular song, that became my favorite song especially when sung in the morning fourth grade class. We ended it with a jazz step that makes my heart happy when I imagine them all doing it. I wish I could have brought them all home with me, but the best I can do is post the video I took of us singing “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands”.

When we weren’t in class but still at school, JC and I could probably be found on the soccer field. These kids play soccer whenever they’re not in class or sleeping. I would add eating to that list if not for the few times I saw kids eating while playing soccer. Futbol there knows no age, gender, or size. Every kid played, almost every kid played well, and they all played better than any of my friends here play. When not playing futbol, they played handball. Either way, JC and I were the arcadors (goalies). I think the kids really enjoyed us as goalies because then more of them could actually play in the field.

I think I developed some really lovely bonds with some of the kids there. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again, but I know they will never leave my heart. They too were created in God’s image and deserve to be treated as such. I pray that they can continue to learn and grow and that the Lord would bring them to a knowledge of Him, as the school is designed to facilitate. If I am able and the Lord is gracious, I will see them again within a few years.

My next post will be about the Church. Stay tuned.

-j

Being in the US is making me physically ill right now. We just don’t get it here.

-j