Posts Tagged ‘questions’

I know, I know we are well into April, and I’m a few days too late to link up with Hopeful Leigh, but here’s what I’ve been into { March edition } enjoy!

Cooking and Eating:

Let’s be honest I have been doing more of the latter, the eating. I have tons of great recipe ideas and pins, but my desire to eat often overcomes my patient to cook.

But, I did make this delicious Spinach-Basil pesto from good ol’ Martha Stewart. I have been trying to eat my greens and this seems liked the perfect pesto to just throw in some spinach. Perfect over pasta with fresh tomatoes and chicken.

It’s mango season in Guatemala, so I also made Shauna Niequist’s Chicken Margo Curry from her new book: Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes. It was delightful and a complete meal served over rice. Perhaps, the best part…even better as leftovers! My favorite: stuffed inside pitas, with a yogurt mint sauce.

Reading:

My book club just finished this travel memoir: Little Princes: One Man’s Promise to Bring Home the Lost Children of Nepal. If you liked Three Cups of Tea, it’s a similar theme, but I thought a much better story development and a bit more down to earth.

Also, have been making my way through a Christmas gift from my mom, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within. For any writers or people who wish they wrote more, this is a must! Simple, encouraging truths and much to think (and write) about!

Best of the blogsphere:

Easter was over a week ago, but in Guatemala we get a whole month long celebration. Aly, a friend and fellow expat, wrote a great post about re-evaluating how we celebrate Easter and why.

I don’t know Ellen, but she is wise beyond her years. At 19 she wrote a sincere, honest post about Same Sex Marriage and how maybe all we are called to do is love God and love others. period. I so deeply wish that more men and women who are homosexuals heard this message, and not the one that most Christians preach.

Christena is a women and writer that I met via twitter and the blogword and her posts are always insightful and challenging. She looks at issues regarding social class, race and reconciliation. If you work or serve in a community with people who are different from you, or you just want to be a better listener then you have to read her post about Listening Well As a Person of Privilege
Ashleee, a writer and one of the best photographers out there, looks at social media and wrestles with it’s purpose and intent. Are facebook, instagram and twitter soley self-serving mechanisms that portray happy, perfect pictures that make other people feel like crap? Or is there some thing worth sharing? I have asked many of the same questions myself. Read her post and join the discussion.
I stumbled on this blog through someone else’s and I loved his wife’s post about stretch marks, motherhood and beauty: These are the Lines of a Story.

FREE Stuff on the web:

I love free stuff, especially printable-shareable-on-the-web-kinda free stuff because it’s accessible by ALL- even people without a US IP address. (If my computer wasn’t so smart-damn, IP address-Pandora and Hulu would work here.)

Teachers and really anyone who works with little kids this site has TONS of printable flashcards- letters, colors, numbers, emotions, parts of the body, shapes, etc. It’s also is a GREAT site for anyone teaching beginning ESL.

And what a cute idea is this— downloadable (is that a word?) and printable stickers for a monthly photo or onsie with your little one. I just might try to do this once a month with our Baby Girl.

Pillows and Bathrooms:

Any pregnant mama will understand: I now sleep with no less than three pillows. One for my head, one in between the legs and one under the belly. I know they make fancy body pillows but I’m worried if I got one there would be no room left for Gerber. For now, I’ll choose him and be thankful that my three pillows are working : ) Now, on the subject of bathrooms— let me just say pregnancy makes you appreciate stores that have free, public bathrooms. I now plan my errands around which places that have access to a bathroom- the bank: no. the local grocery store: nope. Cafe Barista, Dona Luis, and Cafe Condesa: yes, yes and yes! (apparently I make lots of stops at coffee shops and panaderias : )

Baby Girl:

Have I mentioned that I love, LOVE etsy– especially the baby stuff. My friend Carrie sent me this link for a super cute diaper bag/tote and I have been eyeing this hat, his “you are so loveable” baby sleep sack and this washable changing pad.

Two friends, Meredith and Becca both swear that this lovely necklace is ideal for new moms, because get this, it’s baby-proof?!? I mean they say your baby can pull, tug or chew on this thing. Sounds like a win, win. Maybe it’s really more for me, than Baby Girl, but I’m adding to it my wishlist regardless.

By the way this is one of the best lists I’ve found of the top 50 etsy baby shops.

Bilingual Resources:

I’ve been searching for more online resources and so far Spanglish Baby and Inculture Parent have been my favorites. Check out these links for great list of spanish/english kids books and a fascinating article about bilingualism how introverts and extroverts learn language.

ok, that’s it for now. Happy Monday!

Last Friday was International Women’s Day. I posted this on facebook and twitter:

Today my husband wished me a Happy International Women’s Day. Then he asked, “so when is International Men’s Day? #goodquestion #equality

And within minutes I was surprised by the responses and replies from men and women alike. Comments like “I’m pretty sure every other day is already international men’s day” or “Men have had thousands of years, you ladies deserve one day.”

•   •   •

On one hand I understand where these comments come from.  Men, especially white men, historically have had unprecedented power and access to things like property rights, voting, and leadership positions in both church and government. There is no argument; worldwide men have had more power and control. For centuries women were 2^nd class citizens if that, often no better than mere property. And I know first hand that in many developing countries around the world many women are no better off now than hundreds of years ago.

I know because I live in one of those developing countries. I live in Guatemala, a country where the machista attitude is still king and many women lack access to basic land rights, birth control options and education. It’s a country where family is valued above all else, but domestic violence is still quietly accepted as the norm. Change is happening, but slowly.

 •   •   •

I teach at an all girls’ schools in a small village called Santa Maria de Jesus. Each morning 120 indigenous Guatemalan girls in their brightly woven skirts and colorful blouses walk up the dirt road to come to school. They sit at wooden desks, one size too big, with their little brown feet dangling in plastic flip-flops. Many of these girls wouldn’t get to the opportunity to study otherwise, because preference is often given to their brothers. We always start with full class of 30 girls in 1^st grade, but usually only 1/3 of them make it to 6^th grade. I believe whole-heartedly in these girls and that by giving them access to education they will have more opportunities in the future.

I, if anyone get, believe in and celebrate, International Women’s Day, but it’s left me with a question:

In our pro-women, girls-only push, are we failing the next generation of young men?

Don’t we need groups for young boys? Groups that teach them what it means to work together? Don’t we need role models who will show how to respect women and serve them? How do we empower men to be wise leaders and humble learners? I don’t think that happens by just elevating and celebrating women.

 •   •   •

Guatemala has a large international community, NGOs from the US and Europe are on almost every city corner. Mission groups and churches have had a long history here as well. Thanks to a large international presence and many NGOs working on women’s rights, International Women’s Day is big deal here. In my local grocery store a handmade hung above the roses, “¡Feliz Dia de La Mujer!” My Facebook feed was full of empowering, encouraging posts honoring Guatemalan women. None of this bothers or upsets me in the slightest, but it does make me question. Why don’t I remember ever seeing a sign at the grocery story or a Facebook post about International Men’s Day? In fact I know very few organizations that are specifically working with boys or young men. I can name a few in the US, like Donald Miller’s Mentoring Project that are targeting boys who don’t have dad’s in their lives, but they seem to be few and far between.

It makes me wonder why and ask what the consequences will be? Don’t we need the next generation of men to grow up respecting, listening to and partnering with women? If we just focus on Women’s day and women’s rights where does that leave our next generation of men?

I believe, as I think Jesus modeled, that women and men are made equally in His image. Jesus constantly went against the culture to embrace the prostitute, the widow or the Samaritan women. In fact, the first person He revealed himself to was the woman at the well. He was radical in his treatment of women not as second-class citizens, but as beloved daughters. He gave worth to women, when society gave them next to nothing.

The church and our world clearly have a lot to learn in how we regard our daughters and young women. But do we also have something to learn about how we raise-up and teach our sons? Sometimes I wonder what would Jesus think of our 21^st century Girl-Power society. Would he wonder why we have neglected young men?

•   •   •

My husband and I are expecting our first baby in a few months and we are thrilled. A little girl. She will be half Guatemalan, half gringo. And you can bet money on it that I want her to have access to education and be able to dream big dreams. I want her to be listened to and respected because of who she is and what she knows, not how she looks. I want her to see people from her gender in Congress and leading companies and preaching in churches. I want my daughter to be celebrated on International Women’s Day. And I hope that one day, many years from now, she will meet a man, who was also celebrated on International Men’s Day.

In case you were wondering, International Men’s Day is November 19^th.

Yesterday as I scrolled through facebook and twitter I was struck by the images of valiant firefighters and #9/11 and #neveforget hashtags.

Twelve years ago, on a Tuesday morning, September 11th, our nation suffered immense loss. 2,996 people died in one day. However, why don’t we remember the more than 100,000 Iraqi’s who have died since we invaded the country in 2003?

War is complicated and politics are messy and I don’t claim to be an expert in either. But I do know that loss is loss. And you can’t qualify or quantify it. September 11th was horrible day in our country’s history. As a nation we define and mark time before 9/11 and after 9/11. A lot changed after that one day. Especially for people who lost someone they loved.

*  *  *

Dads on flights who never got to see their kids again.

Wives’ whose last memory of their sweetheart is a voice-mail recording made while stuck in the 2nd tower.

Moms who never saw their sons again.

Brave firefighters who were attempting to save others, but never made it out.

Officers in the Pentagon at the start of what they thought was a normal Tuesday, didn’t leave to see the end of it.

Kids born in the months after 9/11 have grown up never knowing their fathers. (In fact ABC has followed them and their families and you can can get an inside look at some of their stories, pain, and loss since 9/11)

A twenty-two year old with a ring purchased to propose to his fiance never had a chance to ask her.

This lists makes me sad. My heart aches imagining what if it was me? What if the flight that I was expecting my husband to arrive on never landed? What if I never saw him again?

For many this day is a reminder of what and whom you lost. And I cannot imagine the pain and sadness you still feel.

*  *  *

But there’s another side.

There always is. And this so-called “other side” is one that we don’t hear a lot about. In fact I have a feeling some pretty important people, pay some pretty big money so we don’t hear about the number of civilian casualties in Iraq.

We don’t hear that as of July of this year between 108,430 to 118,484 Iraqi civilians have died. 

We don’t hear about the Grandmother who had to watch as her son got shot in the head.

We don’t hear about the kids who went to play in street and were at the wrong place at the wrong time, because they will never play again.

We don’t hear about the family that was in their apartment eating breakfast when the bomb dropped. All of them dead.

We don’t hear about the wife whose husband went to the market to buy khubz, Iraqi flatbread, and never returned.

We don’t hear those stories. And those stories too should make our heart hurt.

*  *  *

I am not saying that mourning and remembering for the loss of our own nation is wrong. Not at all. But I am saying that it’s incomplete if we don’t also mourn and remember some of the very people that our nation – “in the name of freedom“-  has been responsible for their death.

Sometimes I wonder if our patriotism desensitizes us to our humanity?

And the same question could be asked of any nation, but as a US citizen I write from my perspective. And as a Christian, I wrestle with understanding what it means to “love your enemy” more than your flag.

Donald Miller, author and speaker, posted this on twitter yesterday and it is my prayer for myself and my country:

“The world will have really changed when on this day we talk about justice and forgiveness. #9/11″

What is your prayer after 9/11?

Do you agree that our patriotism desensitizes us to our humanity? If not, why?

For more info about what happened after 9/11… in the war in Iraq:

-A heart wrenching video looking at the civilians death in Iraq: What the US news doesn’t show

-The UK group Iraq Body Count

-What the US Govt hasn’t revealed about civilians death

photo credit: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/video/2010/oct/22/iraq-war-logs

I would call myself a Christian. But there have been seasons of my life where those words have felt weighted by the need for a disclaimer.

I’ve wanted to stamp a SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING on my backpack: I’m not like those Christians. I do not always vote republican, I deeply care about our environment and I don’t think your sexuality defines who you are or what rights you have.

I don’t get think that Jesus would be too happy with my need to qualify what it means to be a Christian. He seemed to be above all of that stuff.

A New Church

G and I have been attending a new church near Guatemala City. Being in someone’s home, with a community of people who are willing to be challenged and committed to keep asking good questions, makes the 45-minute drive on a rainy, Sunday afternoon worth it. The messages are video-casted in from a church in Atlanta, called North Point. And this week Andy Stanley’s message was not only challenging, but also a bit controversial. Maybe that’s why I respect him and the church community we’re part of.

He called it what it is.

Christians- we, myself, people in the church- are sometimes the biggest hypocrites.

Crowded together on wooden benches and white plastic chairs last night we sat and listened.

Andy talked about how Christians have used the bible to justify horrible things in our history- the enslavement of fellow human beings, the persecution and genocide of Jews, the abuse and subordination of women, the right to wealth and power, and I could go on and on. The thing is we can use theology to justify anything. People have done it for years and it’s quite scary, really because we still do it.

The Danger of The One Verse

Every side of every issue has a verse. Just ask them. It’s easy to pull a single verse out of the bible to prove your point.

I realized in some ways we all do this.

The truth is if you call yourself a follower of Christ or a Christian, you too have chosen parts of the bible to ignore. We do this pick-and-chose-dance based on context, and theology or what your church tradition and current culture tells us is acceptable.  Last time I checked I didn’t know any women in modern evangelical churches who have their heads covered or any men walking around with their right eye gouged out from lusting after a woman.  And as far as I know, most us have not sold all of our possessions and given them to the poor.

In someway or another most of us ask ourselves what was the intent of the commander, not just what was the commandment.

One of the things I love about Jesus, is that he knew we would do this. The Pharisees did it back then. They asked things like, “Well, how close can I get to breaking the law, without actually breaking it?” Or they’d question Jesus like a bossy older sibling, “How come your disciples don’t follow the rules and wash their hands before they eat?” (Matthew 15)

A New Commandment

But Jesus responds. And not with rules and laws, but with a new commandment. A new commandment that encompasses all the rest of them. A commandment that Jesus lives out to the fullest, and I believe has so much potential for good when we can learn to do the same.

He says:

Love one another. In the same way I have loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples- when they see the LOVE you have for EACH OTHER

(John13:34, The message- italics added for emphasis)

That’s it.

Wouldn’t it be cool if one day someone said… hey, I know they’re Christians because of they love that they have for each other?

I don’t think this implies that we will all agree or come to some universal mutual understanding and vote for the same political party. I think being a follower of Christ leaves room for diversity and difference of opinion, but there is no question that if I chose to call myself a Christian than I have a responsibility to ask myself daily: What does love require of me?

What does love require of me?

What does love require of me each morning, each day, while I wash dishes or wait in line at the bank?

What does love require of me when I read facebook posts that I whole-heartily disagree with? Or when I see an old man with a beard and a bible clenched under his arm proselytizing in the park?

What does love require of me when I watch news broadcasts with Christians holding up hate posters against gays and lesbians? Or when Christians with very good intentions would rather hand out candies and t-shirts in the name of Jesus, instead of learning about development and empowerment?

What does love require of me when I want to control a situation in order to get my own way? Or when I want to be generous only when it benefits me? What does love require of me when I chose to ignore someone else’s needs because of my power or position?

What does love require of me?

I think I know the answer. But sometimes it’s a lot harder to live out, than it is to write about.
How do I chose to act differently? To speak differently? And to not do exactly what makes me so frustrated in the first place? Respond in anger, or disgust, or with excuses and judgement?

Whether you call yourself a Christian or not…

Will you join me in asking this question…What does love require of me? How do we live it out every day?

P.S. you can watch Andy Stanley message or the full series online at: http://www.northpoint.org/messages/christian

I live a first world life, in a third world country. I have running water in my house, wireless internet that usually works, a purple yoga mat and a scooter.  Inside my refrigerator you’ll find honey mustard and BBQ sauce, and on my kitchen counter sits an automatic coffee maker with adorable Anthropologie towels hanging above it. These are very first world things.

Walk 30 yards outside the gate and you’ll see my neighbors’ surroundings: make-shift homes out of cement block, corrugated sheet metal and plastic lamina. Billowing smoke rises up from their wood burning stoves and brooms sweep away the dust on their dirt floors. These are third world things.

And some how the two collide here.  Side by side.

 •   •   •

this is guatemala. t.i.g

  •   •   •

{ women waiting to fill up their water jugs in santa maria de jesus }

My neighbor’s son plays on the grass in front of our house as she waters her lawn. Less than 20 minutes away where I teach, the families and schools do not have running water because the city government won’t pay to buy a new pump for well water.

 •   •   •

this is guatemala. t.i.g

  •   •   •

On one corner of the street there is an internet cafe. Directly across a man hunches over to readjust the firewood stacked up on his back. Checking facebook status’ and recent youtube videos on one side, and carrying fuel for tonight’s meal on the other.

 •   •   •

this is guatemala. t.i.g

  •   •   •

I walk past the park on my way to buy bread in the panaderia. Junior high age girls sit perched on the benches giggling, sending text messages and watching the boys leave school. An older women with grey hair and round hips balances a basket of fruit on her head, keeping one had in her apron holding onto her days’ earnings and another tightly wrapped around the tiny wrist of little one. They wait for the busy to head home.

•   •   •

this is guatemala. t.i.g

  •   •   •

Guatemala is a land of contradictions. Where the first world enters the third world, but often does not allow the third world the same rite of passage. They are held together in this odd tension. It’s a tension that begs to ask:

How does Guatemala have one of the world’s Nobel Prizes in Literature, but yet still have one of the high rates of illiteracy in Central America?

A Guatemalan woman was awarded The Nobel Peace Prize in 1992, and yet there are now more killings each day than there were during the civil war. Why?

How come Guatemala’s Mayan ancestors were some of the most ingenuitive and wise people of their day, but the majority of the research on these people and their kingdoms has been written in English? Which means most Guatemalan kids do not learn about their own Mayan heritage in the schools.

How come some Guatemalans travel to Europe to shop and have weekend houses at the lake, but there are millions more who spend 14 hours plowing a field just to earn a $1.50 for their days work?

•   •   •

this is guatemala. t.i.g

  •   •   •

A land of first world luxurious and third world poverty. I have to believe there is something the two can learn from each other. Some kind of reciprocal sharing that can take place. I have to believe this because I live here, between these two worlds. I get to see it. and feel it. and smell it. and experience it. each. and. every. day. And I like that. I get to wrestle with what it means to live within this tension. And hopefully find ways to build relationships between these two worlds.

•   •   •

this is guatemala. t.i.g

  •   •   •

 { some of the people I get to do this kind of relationship building work with }

Don’t ya wanna come be part of it? : )

It’s a good question really. A matter of language and identity. What is your nationality if you are from the United States of America? Most of us from the good ‘ol  u    s    of   a would say, “I’m an American.” From young ages we are socialized to sing, “I’m proud to be an American” and we are indoctrinated with the idea of the “American Dream.” However, what happens when you live in another country, another country in the Americas?

What happens when you begin to realize that actually “America” is a continent divided into three parts: North, Central and South. Then, what do you say?

In Spanish there is a word for someone from the United States. They’re called an estadounidense (or sometimes more commonly referred to as a gringo). If you’re from Germany, you’re an aleman. If you’re from Mexico, you’re a mexicano. For someone who likes words and language and how these very two things are often a deep reflection of a culture, it’s interesting that we, too have names for someone from Germany (a German) and someone from Mexico is a Mexican. But yet we don’t have a name for someone who is from the United States?

Proud to be an America (sometimes)

There are many things that I am proud of about my country. It is a land where our founding fathers fought for the freedom of speech and the separation of church and state. A land where humble farmers and wealthy business, men and women, rich and poor have the right to vote, attend public school and own property. A land where “I can do anything” is  embedded in the very fiber of our country and “the American Dream” runs deep through our veins. The United States has thrived because we have been encouraged to create, to change and to empower.

However, there are more times then I’d care to admit that I am embarrassed by my country. I often feel the need to apologize for the actions we have taken. I get angry that we strive for equality and a land of freedom, but we abuse and exploit our own workers. We consume absurd amounts of energy, gas and natural resources without acknowledging the effect on the rest of the world. We often use our power and force in unnecessary ways. It makes me ashamed that we claim to be united, but we still judge and divide people based on the color of their skin. I get frustrated when we, The United States of America, take advantage of others. We misuse our power, our influence and maybe our name, to do what we want to do.

Where Are You From?

So here I am. Living in a new pais. Where the most common question I get asked is, “De donde eres?” Where are you from? I usually respond, “de los estados.” From the States. Yes, I am from the States. And I am thankful and grateful for where I was born and how I grew up. Are there changes we can make, of course. Maybe the first one being… I ask you, Dear Citizen of the   U    S of A, What do we call someone from The United States of America? Do we have a name that is our own? A name besides an American? An United Statesian, perhaps?

If you have lived or traveled abroad where do you say you’re from?

photo credit: elizabethbunsen.typepad.com

How often do we tell only half of the story? We share about recent events or holidays, but carefully omit and edit certain aspects. We can cut and paste the details of our lives to highlight our own or our children’s recent accomplishments, but we tip-toe around out insecurities and worries.  We have learned the art of positive re-framing and mastered the simplistic, polite response “I’m good” when really everything does not feel so good. I too, do these things and to be honest I am not sure why. Sometimes it seems we value positivity over authenticity. We want our life to feel or appear a certain way so we tell ourselves and others just how good things are.

One Year Ago

Last year for New Years 2010 I wrote a post here about Expectation and Hope.

“Understanding the difference between hope and expectation is critical if we are to allow our future to be shaped by God. Hope longs for good but is able to be flexible about how that good might appear. Expectation grasps at solutions and becomes easily attached to outcomes. When we are hopeful, our imagination and creativity flourish. But when we are locked into expectations, it is easy to turn our pictures of the possible future into an idol.” (Helen Cepero, Journaling as a Spiritual Practice)

And if I had to describe my last year it would be just that; Letting go of expectations and hanging on to hope. Letting go of my plan, my job, my comforts and my idea that I know what is best. Maybe more accurately, it has been a process of letting go of control. Yet at the same time, learning to hang on to hope. The hope that life is full of surprises, the hope that God has a plan far more creative than I could imagine, and the hope that saying no to something, means saying yes to something else.

New Year’s 2011

My sister recently sent me this AMAZING link of a TED talk by Brene Brown, a research professor at the University of Houston. (Seriously watch it! You will not be disappointed. It may be some of the best uses of 20 minutes you’ve spent) With an academic, yet  humble spirit Brown speaks about the Power of Vulnerability. She looks at what gives people worth, and how shame and belonging factor into our lives. But the part that stood out the most was when she described courage.

She explains that courage comes from the latin word cor, which means: to tell the story of who are with your whole heart.

TO. TELL. THE. STORY. OF. WHO. ARE. WITH. YOUR. WHOLE. HEART.

She describes that people who do this; people who tell the story of who they are with their whole heart, are authentic and compassionate and vulnerable. These are people who “let go of who they thought they should be, in order to be who they are.” It made me re-think how often do we tell our stories, share our opinions or post on facebook so that we can live up to who we think we should be? Or worse yet who we want others to think we are?

In the year ahead I want to be a person who has courage. A person is not afraid of being authentic. I want to be someone who tells the whole story. Sometimes it can be tempting living and serving overseas  to tell “part of the story”- the good, the exciting and the fun. I can easily glorify what life is like. But I also want to tell the “other part of the story”- the unknown, the confusion and the worry. Because I am coming to believe that both are extremely important. It’s the whole story, the whole person, the whole heart that connects us with others.

What keeps you from telling the story of you are with your whole heart?

Destination: Ixcán, Guatemala

Km from Antigua: 427

Driving time: 12+ hours

A Weekend Away

Somewhere nestled in the northern part of Guatemala, between tropical jungle canopies and tumultuous dirt roads are hundreds of small villages in an area called Ixcán. It was an area deeply affected by the civil war and in many ways families and entire communities are still rebuilding their lives. For the past 6 years Hechos 2:8 (one of the projects of Mission Impact) has been doing community development work in this area building water filters, latrines and providing education and pastoral training. So when I had the opportunity to go visit the project I said “Why not?”

I did not know that saying why not meant saying yes to a simpler pace of life and an adventure that I could not have planned: no running water, no hot showers, cooking with a wooden stove, and sleeping in a tent to avoid both the mosquitoes and the scorpions. I learned to appreciate the natural composting latrines. I watched women kill and de-feather a chicken that later ended up in my bowl for lunch. I attempted to make tortillas by hand. And I washed dishes in the pilla. We endured lots and lots of warm rain, muddy roads and flooded rivers. But what I was most impressed by is that none of this even fazed the Guatemalan men and women. They handle life with an ingenuity and calmness that I envy. Even when the water level was too high and we couldn’t cross the flooded rivers, and my natural response is to freak out, Guatemalans know how to work together, construct makeshift bridges and rafts from plywood and inner tubes and then charge people a fee to cross. They are both resourceful and creative. What may have felt different or uncomfortable for me, is normal every day life for them.

We made it back safely, a little tired, and with a tad more mud on the truck then when we started. I realized, what if I had said no? What if I had missed out on this? What if instead of saying “Why not?” I had asked, “Why?” Why should I go? Why should I take time off work? Why should I leave my comfortable home? Why? Why? Why?

The Why and Why Not

I have spent a lot of my life asking the why questions. For me why questions are rooted in fear and distrust. Why by the nature of the word implies a certain doubt or skepticism. I have always been a gifted why asker. Why should I let go of that expectation? Why should I move? Why should I try something new? And I could do on. But I am learning sometimes maybe the better  (and yes, harder) question is why not? Why not take a risk? Why not do something that feels hard or uncomfortable? Why not make a change? Why not share your dream with some one? Why not ask her out? Why not tell him how you really feel? Why not run the marathon? Why not______________? (and you can feel in the blank.)

I don’t think why questions are necessarily bad. No, quite the opposite. I think they are necessary and healthy. Just spend time with any human under the age of five.They are excellent why askers. It’s how they learn and make sense of their world.

But if why questions are the tools used to build an understanding of our world, then the why not questions are like a blank canvas inviting us to crate something new.

Start Drawing

Any artist or architect knows that sometimes staring at a blank canvas or a piece of paper is the worst feeling. It stares back at you empty, daunting and filling you with the burden of too many possibilities. And this is where the why not questions come in to play. Why not start? Just dream. Start with something. Go with your idea. Trust your intuition. Listen to that still small voice inside. I think sometimes God wants us to just start drawing.  Pick up the crayon. Start dreaming. And start asking, why not?

Why provides structure and boundaries, but why not allows room for creativity to flourish.

What are you going to say why not to?

It’s hard to beat an afternoon at home, on the couch watching the Superbowl. I guess I should clarify “watching” football for me is synonymous with multi-tasking. I really do really like football, but I what I like even more is that I can simultaneously “watch” a game while also painting my nails, grading papers, updating quicken, folding laundry and shoveling steamed edamame into my mouth! I know it’s a skill- don’t be jealous. I think I’ve learned this fine art of football-watching-multi-tasking from my mother, who is the queen of getting things done during football games. She has given me both an appreciation and understanding of the game of football, as well as a high aptitude for being productive while watching the game. Thank you, mom.

Mondays

For as much as I enjoy a relaxing and productive Sunday at home (and no, those two words are not mutually exclusive in my book) I actually look forward to Monday.

One of the reasons I love my job is that I honestly look forward to going to work on most days (not just Mondays). Each morning I am greeted (and when I say greeted I mean just stared at blankly) by twenty, sleepy-eyed teenagers. And these groggy, sometimes socially awkward, inquisitive students are the reason I love my job.

The Reciprocal Relationship

This is my fourth year of teaching and every year my students impart some new knowledge on me. I think one of the keys to being a good teacher is admitting that you always have something to learn from your students. Sometimes teachers get mixed-up and assume that the teaching-learning relationship flows in some linear fashion; going from teacher to student and then just stops. But I am a firm believer that the teaching-learning relationship is much more reciprocal.

Some of my students teach me about being resilient— many of them have encountered deep pain, loss and neglect in ways I can’t even imagine. Others teach me about creativity— their unfiltered, creative words* send me scurrying back to urbandictionary.com to make sure what they’re saying is still relatively appropriate for the classroom. And this semester my students have been teaching me about curiosity— their hands raised with genuine and thoughtful questions shaped by their own sense of wonder.

Asking Good Questions

I start off each new semester with a lesson about the importance of asking good questions. I tell my seniors that for the past 12 years of their lives they have learned how to give the right answers, but I want them to know how to ask good questions.

To discuss different types of questions I use the metaphor of a tree. When you look at a tree “on the surface” you see the obvious…the trunk, branches, leaves, etc. These represent the simplistic, one word, literal questions. The “When did the war start?” and “Who is the author of the book?” kinda questions. Important questions, but simple nonetheless. The answer is often obvious, right there in front of you.

Then there are the “under the surface” questions. Back to the tree metaphor– I ask, what can’t you see under the surface of the tree, but you know is there? The roots, dirt, soil, etc. These are the things that are harder to see and understand, but there is a richness and necessity to their presence. These are the more complex questions, the “why?” and “how come” and “do you think” questions of the world.

For one of their homework assignments I gave my students a rather simple task of asking 15 questions.

Here are some of questions they asked:
“Would the world be more peaceful if all of us had the same religion?”
“Why do people take advantage of other people?
“Why does the government spend more money on prisons than schools?
“How long can the average person hold their breath?”
“Why do teens these days not seem to care about their education and future?
“Why is school so hard for some people?”
“How come we can’t stop wars and all get along?

I have given this assignment before, but usually, I get the same, pretty standard questions. Questions such as “Why do teachers give homework?” or “How many days ’till school gets out?” or “Do you like teaching?” But this group of students is different. They asked complex, curious, and creative questions; questions that I don’t always feel prepared to answer or even discuss.

It’s Not About the Answer

I am learning that inviting someone to ask a question is like asking them to share a small piece of who they are. We are a culture that likes to spout off facts and megabytes of information in easily digestible chunks, but we don’t often pause to ask questions. Asking questions implies that you must be humble and vulnerable enough to admit that you don’t know the answer. And sometimes I think I shy away from asking questions out of fear that the answers won’t make sense. If someone gave me the assignment to write down 15 questions, I am honestly not sure what I would ask. What would you ask?

I believe questions are like a mirror that reflect the scattered doubts and musing of our hearts. They don’t realize it, but when I invite my students to ask questions, I am actually getting a glimpse into the kind of things that swirl around inside. And hopefully this inside glimpse allows me to be a better teacher and a better learner.

(*note: thanks to the help of my students I’ve added a wealth of words to my vocabulary. Words like kick back, chillin, lets book it, nah, not eeeven, aww, that’s a mission, don’t tripppp and..oh, I could go on. Sometimes these words even slip into my every day speech…which lends itself nicely to the occasional raised eyebrow from my peers, as if to say “Do you realize what you just said?”)

Thursday afternoons are one of my favorite times of the week. Every Thursday I get to play with some of thee cutest kids on the face of the planet. (and yes, I may be biased. I admit it). I am learning that “playing” encompasses all of the wonderful things like tying shoes, wiping noses, running after, picking up, putting down and singing ridiculous songs that require you to spin in circles. Why kids like this and most adults hate it is beyond me?

But today I also got to play doctor. Little 4 year-old Miguel fell and was convinced that his small scraped-up knee required immediate attention. As he limped over to the curb, I asked if I could look at his owie.

aww, Miguel, it’s gonna be ok. I think you just need a band-aid.

With tears forming in his big brown eyes he looked up at me and asked,

“Will it make all better?”

I couldn’t forget his question. So simple. So true. Will it make it all better?

So often I just want things to be “all better.” I don’t want to see friends suffering or watch families grieve the loss of their child. I don’t like it when it seems like there is too much pain and injustice and death in our world. And sometimes that world hits much closer to home. In the past week there have been two teenage girls who died tragically in Santa Barbara. One of my colleagues at work was just diagnosed with throat cancer and will be out the rest of the year. I sat in my home group on Wednesday night and listened to a soon-to-be bride pray that her dad would be alive and well enough to walk her down the aisle.

As we prayed, a tear rolled down the side of my cheek. Why, God? These things don’t make sense? It doesn’t seem fair.

Grief and loss and suffering are permeating those around me. And I feel pieces of it, too. If I am honest, sometimes I fear what if it happens to me next? I worry about getting a phone call saying something happened to my parents. Or reading in the newspaper that one my former students has died. Or getting some horrible call from a doctor saying that they “found something.” It reminds me that life is fragile.

Sometimes I lie in bed and wonder why can’t God just make everything “all better”- maybe kinda of like a band-aid theology.