Cabbage or Garbage?

Yesterday I was eating the noon meal with Mario, Christine and the kids. Christine had prepared chicken and rice. As we started eating she said something about "garbage." After a few questions and input from the kids and Mario I figured out that she was talking about "cabbage." I pointed to the trash can and said that was the garbage. Christine laughed. At supper she did serve some cabbage and verified that she was saying it with a 'c' sound rather than a 'g'.

Most of the time when we are eating, I'm the odd one out as the conversation is in Swahili. I don't mind. Christine needs to be able to talk with her kids. I do put my foot down when Nathalie says, "Mom wants to know...." I turn to Christine and ask her to tell me directly. She gives me a big smile and tries.

I've also begun introducing them to American sports. Mario watches soccer every weekend and the rest of the family seems to enjoy it as well. Yesterday when I was watching football, Christine and the kids came in. Exo enjoys WWE so he likes the physical aspect of the game. After watching for a few minutes, Christine asked, "What are they doing?" I tried to explain the overall idea and then said, "It's complicated." Christine didn't know that word so I said, "It isn't simple." No it isn't.

I've also started teaching the kids to hit a ball using a plastic ball and bat.  If I get the pitch anywhere close, Exo gives it a good whack. I need to get Mario out there and see if he is a better pitcher than I. And sometimes when the cousins are over, I can try to teach them the concept of running the bases. Come to think of it, baseball isn't a simple game either. I might need the help of some videos.

Year 3, Week 1

Last Thursday was the first day of school at the start of my third year as a school-based Occupational Therapist. Here's a few of the things I observed on the first few days.

• I went into one kindergarten room where the class was sitting on different colored lines on the carpet. They were to go line up when the teacher said the color of their line. One of the students from the pink line got up when the blue line was called. The teacher repeated her name over and over with absolutely no response from the student. When she got to the door, an aide looked at her name tag and pronounced her name differently. The girl immediately looked up at her. Say her name right and she'll respond!
• Day 1 can be rather chaotic in special education classrooms, especially when there are new students.  I was in two such classrooms on the first day that had some very busy students who were in constant motion. One of the boys has a goal of sitting for 1 minute while working on a task. We were elated to see him playing with play dough for 3 1/2 minutes while I provided some physical boundaries by kneeling next to him with my arm around him. We've requested a chair with sides and a pummel so he has additional physical boundaries all the time. We'll see if it helps.
• Day 2 I arrived at one of my schools and was immediately asked, "Have you read your email?" I was then told about a kindergarten student who had a very difficult first day to the point where she spent most of the day outside the classroom because she was being so disruptive. When I went to observe, this girl was doing great. As far as I know she did well all day. My theory: She had been very anxious the day before and was so worked up that she couldn't calm herself down enough to participate. Thankfully, once she knew what to expect, she was participating with her class. 
• I checked in on a boy who had had significant behavior concerns last spring. He also had a great first day. One example: he was one of the first dismissed to sit at the table for snack. I saw him pick up a piece of popcorn, put it down and ask, "Can I start eating right away?" His teacher responded, "Great question. We are going to wait until everyone is seated. And next time I'd like you to raise your hand." What a difference from the defiant, shoe-throwing kid we saw last spring. Summer was good for this student and he's with the perfect teacher for him. She has high expectations for all her students and also lets them know that she cares about each one of them. 

Life has changed!

I am sitting in the sun room, my favorite room in my new home. Lingala music is coming from the TV in the living room, sounds of a knife on a cutting board in the kitchen, a crying baby in one of the bedrooms, and the patter of 4 year old feet in the hallway. Yes, life has changed dramatically.

This morning, Mario and Christine and their three children ages 8, 4 1/2, and almost 3 months moved in with me. They arrived in Waterloo from Kenya on a cold evening last December. The small group I'm a part of met them at the airport to welcome them and have taken turns visiting them at least once a week. As Christine's pregnancy progressed the ladies who don't work have accompanied her to many doctor's appointments. The kids also had doctor appointments and dental procedures. Only Mario managed to escape multiple doctor visits. The kids adapted quickly to school and Natalie sometimes fills the role of translator for her mom. Their gentle spirits and faith in God have made it easy for us to love them.

When Mario expressed to us that he didn't feel safe in the house they were living in and how much he could afford in rent, we discussed different options. While out on a morning run I had the idea of them coming to live with me. I have room in the new home I moved into in May. The huge yard is begging to have some kids play in it and the basement reminds me of Mom sending my brothers and I downstairs to run off some steam in the winter. Mario would not have to be concerned about his family while he was working 2nd shift. They could get on their feet financially, improve their English, and save money to buy a house of their own. The group was supportive and the men are helping finish a 2nd bathroom in the basement. Mario and Christine were delighted and are so very thankful.

Yesterday when I showed the two older children around the house they were elated. Natalie looked around and said, "It's beautiful." When I showed them their bedroom and explained they would be sharing it she did a little dance. Exo is more quiet but his eyes were shining with excitement.

This morning the group helped them move their things over here while a couple of the ladies took the kids shopping for school clothes. My office, the guest room, and most of my living room furniture has been moved to the basement but there is still plenty of room for the kids to play. Christine worked on getting the kids' room organized while Mario hooked up the TV. 

Now that it is quieted down, Christine is learning her way around my kitchen as she prepares a meal. Mario is unpacking in their room. I held precious Joshua as I typed this until he fell asleep and now he's sleeping on his little bed in the corner of the dining room. Natalie went to explore a bit outside and Exo is watching cartoons.

Mario's brother stopped by earlier and said my offer for them to live with me was an answer to prayer by everyone in the family, including their parents in Congo. He thanked me over and over again and said that I was now part of the family. I told him what I told Mario and Christine: their being here will likely me bless me as much if not more than it blesses them. There will be difficult times, days when I wish I had a little more space in my room, or more quiet at night, or easier communication across cultures. There will be days when they wish the temperature was a little higher in my house. (Mario is already wearing his coat with the AC set at 73.) I know I will cherish the quiet Sunday afternoons while they are at church. But I expect that I will also greatly miss them whenever they move out into their own place.

Laments

I've always loved singing. Mom tells me that I used to sing about what I could see from the backseat of the car. My lyrics talked about the road that was by the ditch that was by the fence that was by the corn. (Our landscape is stunning in Iowa!)

Most of the singing I've done since I graduated from high school has been in a church context. Over the years I've reached the conclusion that we tend to get our theology more from the songs we sing than from the sermons we hear. As a result, the two most important questions to ask when determining what to include in a church's repertoire are: 1) Are the lyrics theologically sound? and 2) Can this be sung no matter how hard or good life may be? After that comes other considerations such as singability and musical tastes. I'm a part of Redeemer Church in Cedar Falls. We sing theologically robust songs with lots of words and almost every week we sing at least one song that can be called a lament. We always end on a joyful note as we revel in the gospel that is good news in every circumstance.

Currently my church is experiencing great sorrow because Micah, the 8 year old son of one of our families, died as a result of an accident on Tuesday. Wednesday evening much of the church gathered to pray and sing together in our grief. Others from the community also joined us. The mood was somber as I walked into a very quiet space. No music was playing. Micah's picture was on the screen. Children sat quietly. The only talking was done in whispers. The only sound that could be heard more than a few feet away came from the little ones who can't yet talk. Shortly after Micah's parents came in and sat flanked by close friends the elders began our time together. We prayed and read scriptures that speak of our hope in Jesus, death losing it's sting, the resurrection, and God being the God of comfort and the one who wipes the tears from our eyes.

Dirk then took his guitar and after a long pause to gather himself, he explained that at Redeemer we see singing as a primary way we fight for joy when we are together. God commands us to joyfully obey but we can't make ourselves be joyful. There is no switch we can flip. We must have God's help if we are to sing, and sing loudly.  As we sang, Dirk needed to pause at times between verses and songs so he could continue to lead us. Some could not sing because they were overcome with emotion but their lifted hands showed that they were in agreement with the words being sung around them. Micah's parents were too tired to stand but they sang through their tears.

In my first draft of this post, I quoted significant portions of the songs we sang. But as I've reflected on it more, those words don't mean as much when read on a page. The music and singing them with others adds to their power. Some of the snippets that have come back to my mind include:

Lord, we believe. But help our unbelief.

Lord, we believe. But help our hearts to sing,

That you are good, all of the time

All of the time you are good.

O God, you never leave my side

Your love stands firm through all my life...

Height nor depth nor anything else can pull us apart.

We are joined as one by your blood.

Hope will rise as we become more than conquerors 

Through the one who loved the world. 

So when I'm drowning out at sea
and all your breakers and your waves crash down on me,
I recall your safety scheme.
You're the one who made the waves
And your Son went out to suffer in my place
And to show me that I'm safe.

Though tonight I'm crying out,
"Let this cup pass from me now,"
You're still all that I need.
You're enough for me. 

I was deeply moved as we sang, Lord I need you, Oh, I need you. Every hour I need you... It was sung at the top of our voices in beautiful harmony. The death of a fun-loving boy reminded us that we are weak and helpless creatures who control nothing and are utterly dependent on our creator for everything. Maybe that is why Solomon says it is better to be in a house of mourning than a house of feasting. Mourning resets our perspective and draws us back to dependence on God. 

Dirk wanted to end with a song that would get Micah dancing so we proclaimed: 

All our sickness, all our sorrows

Jesus carried up the hill.

He has walked this path before us,

He is walking with us still.

Turning tragedy to triumph,

turning agony to praise.

There is blessing in the battle,

so take heart and stand amazed.

Rejoice!

When you cry to him he hears your voice.

He will wipe away your tears. Rejoice!

In the midst of suffering He will help you sing.

Rejoice!

When I was growing up, a quote from Martin Luther hung in our living room near the piano. 

Next to the Word of God, 

the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. 

We experienced that reality on Wednesday evening. The truth we sang had been read and prayed but it touched a deeper cord when it was combined with music which allowed us to proclaim it loudly together. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has been singing some of those words throughout the day. No wonder Paul tells us to sing to each other (Eph 5:19).

The mood was still somber when we finished. Many tears were shed and hugs were given but there was also a sense that the long road of healing and comfort had begun.  I left with a sense of gratitude for those who have written laments and church leaders who make sure we sing one almost every week. As a result, when we desperately needed them, we knew them and, with God's help, were able to sing them loudly with all of our hearts. 

Kindergarten

Every week I get to spend some time with kindergartners in their classroom. Five and six year olds are full of life and energy and love to tell stories -- that have nothing to do with the current topic. One of the reasons it is so fun to work with them is because progress is readily seen. You can tell a lot about how ready a child is to start writing by how he colors and draws. I'll give you an example of one boy. At the beginning of the year he held a crayon or pencil with his fist and scribbled away. When asked what he had drawn he had an explanation. "That's me and Mom and Dad at the zoo and that's the lion!" He had difficulty tracing a straight line or drawing a circle and without being able to do those basic shapes, it is hard to write letters. So at the beginning we used lots of hand-over-hand as we worked on the letters of his name. Using small bits of chalk or broken crayons got him to hold his pencil correctly. Writing on a chalk board or in boxes gave him some boundaries and extra feedback and in time he was consistently writing his first name.

Two weeks ago I watched him as he drew a picture and knew improvement was being made when the first thing on the paper was a circle and a couple of lines in an attempt to draw a stick figure. By the time he had finished it was covered with scribbles but I had seen signs of progress. This week when he opened his writing folder I didn't have to ask him what he had drawn. It was clearly a snowman: three circles, one on top of the other with a hat on top. There were only a few scribbles on the page. He told me he wanted to draw something about the movie Zootopia and began with a small circle and two lines on top, and a couple of lines going down. It wasn't a recognizable rabbit and his fox was about the same but he was using controlled and small movements. His building had no sharp corners but he was trying to make a rectangle. I am rejoicing to see this boy increase his skills.

The next day I visited a classroom which was rather chaotic at times at the beginning of the year. There is a runner in that classroom so there is a gate at each door and the kids needed multiple reminders to go from one center to another or back to their desk and actually do what they were supposed to be doing. This week when I walked in, everyone was where they were supposed to be and the noise level was appropriate for the activity. When it was time to move from one center to another it was done with minimal reminders. The kids on the computers moved to the library. Those at the library went to the table and began to draw... It was amazing compared to what it was like a month ago. It's great for everyone involved when there are more good days than bad.

Writer's Workshop

Because of my role as a school occupational therapist I am often in classrooms during writing time which is usually called writer's workshop. Kindergarteners draw pictures and label them. First graders write a few sentences about a "small moment." Third graders add describing words and more details to their sentences while drawing a "quick sketch". Today's story is too long to qualify as a "small moment" and I have no sketch. However, I will try and edit before I publish.

Last Monday morning I was sitting with a co-worker doing some computer work and I heard some buzzing that didn't go away. My co-worker suggested it sounded like someone outside with a weed-whacker. That seemed plausible except this went on and on and on. Eventually I realized the noise was coming from my bag. My phone, that had taken a quick dip in some water that morning, was continually vibrating. The only way to stop it was to take out the battery.

After work I went to a phone repair shop where I learned that 1) my phone was not worth the $65 to take it apart and dry it out, and 2) once a phone gets wet it is only a matter of time before it dies. I have been frustrated for some time by the lack of internal memory on my phone so decided this was a good excuse to upgrade. My next stop was Best Buy where two saleswomen helped me find the best option that fit my budget and typical call, text, and data use. I also decided to get a new number rather than waiting for the previous number to be released by my previous provider. That decision is why this story doesn't qualify as a "small moment."

The next morning I notified co-workers that I could be reached at a new number. In the afternoon I sent a text to a friend from church inviting her to come over for supper. A few minutes later she called, "I tried to text you but I get a response from someone who doesn't know who I am. Are you OK?" It seemed strange but when I got home from work I started notified about half of my contacts of my new number. Some texts came back to me but I later learned that for some strange reason most were ending up on someone else's phone. However, all of the calls appeared to be coming only to my phone.

The next morning I engaged in the futile attempt of reaching an actual human being at my provider's customer service. I couldn't seem to push the right number. (I know; push zero for as many times as it takes.)  At work I asked a co-worker if she had responded to my text. She hadn't at the time but did then and got a response from someone else, "Do I know you?" I then used my co-worker's phone to dialogue with the poor person who was getting texts for Alice when she wasn't Alice. Long story short, this person had an old iPhone she only used to facetime with her friends when connected to WiFi. The number I had been given was tied to her apple account so any time she was online, the texts to her old number went to her phone rather than to mine. A very frustrating situation for us both! I thanked her for clearing up the mystery and assured her I would take care of it as soon as I was off work.

Back to Best Buy where a different salesman figured out I could go online and change my number. That looked and sounded far easier than trying to call customer service and that turned out to be the case.  All that was left to do was to send out numerous texts once again:

This is Alice sending you my 2nd new number in as many days. 

Hope this one isn't connected with someone's Apple account. 

All the responses arrived on my phone. At least I think they did.

Catching up on life

Last week a friend posted on Facebook that she would be in Cedar Rapids for a week and would love to get together with anyone in the area. She wasn't expecting a reply from me but we were both glad that it worked out to spend Sunday afternoon together. We first met at a conference for single missionaries while she was living in Spain and I in France. The last time we saw each other, I was moving to Minneapolis. Five years later, she is now in Germany and I'm in Cedar Falls. Between trips to a Chinese buffet we took turns telling the stories of the past five years. In some ways our lives have had similar twists and turns. God led us to different places and opened up doors that we didn't expect or necessarily want. Last November we both ended up in the hospital: I with a planned surgery to remove my thyroid and she with a bizarre infection in the lining of her lung that the doctor's still can't explain. I was also eager to hear some firsthand stories about the huge influx of refugees in Germany. She gave an encouraging report of how the churches in her area are helping to meet needs and encourage integration in the midst of a government system that is somewhat overwhelmed. The news reports don't talk about the open doors for the gospel but they are there and many of these refugees are open.

After a couple of hours of stories we were the only ones left in the restaurant and began wondering if they were waiting for us to leave so they could move on to other things. As we paid the man commented, "You look like friends who haven't seen each other for a long time." That would pretty much sum it up.