The following story is one of my absolute favorites from all of my trips to Mexico and happened quite recently...
It was the fourth day of our trip and we had just finished dedicating the house we had built. The family was inside admiring it and crying, and it was a truly sweet time. Myself and three or four of the other girls on the trip were standing with the daughter of the family, who was just a little younger than us. I turned my head and noticed the teenage son, sitting on his parents' bed alone and looking at the box the Bible we had given them was in. We all prodded Josh, a teenage boy on the trip who was a little older than the son, telling him to go sit with him. He argued that he did not speak Spanish, but we made him do it anyways. After making Josh dig a bathroom the day before, I was not afraid of making him sit on a bed with a fellow teenage boy. After a few minutes, I walked over to translate, and Josh and I started asking questions. "Do you go to church?" "Sometimes," he said. Josh asked me if I could tell the boy to start in Galatians when he started reading the Bible, so I did and that boy opened up to Galatians and started reading, right then and there. I then had to go down the street to translate for someone else, but when I returned I found the leader of our trip telling the Gospel story from a tract, and it was the most beautiful sight my eyes could have seen in that moment. I do not know if anyone accepted Christ that day, but we planted seeds and now we trust God to make them grow.
-Emily
Friday, January 29, 2016
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Adventures on the (Part-time) Mission Field {5}
I'm back again with another story, this one a little more spiritual than the last.
It was a crisp November day, and my dad and I were in one of our favorite places: Mexico. Our church goes there four times a year on mission trips, where we build houses, relationships, and hang out with our sponsored kids. This was my eighth trip and, as for my dad, we have lost count. I was so happy to be there, since the last time I had gone was eleven months before. That previous trip we had built a house for a family with a four year old who would be starting kindergarten the next fall. We fell in love with the family, and soon started sponsoring the little girl. Now, almost a year after meeting them, we were having lunch with them and their cousins, whose daughter is sponsored by a friend of ours. Most of the group was in the house eating, but my dad, Michelle's (our sponsor girl) parents, Michelle, and I were outside making rainbow loom bracelets and playing soccer. Then, my dad decided that right then would be a perfect time to open up a conversation about Jesus. With me as his translator, my dad asked Michelle's parents if they knew what it meant to be a Christian, and they did. Further questions proved that they were followers of Jesus, so my dad asked them if they went to church. They didn't. My dad didn't ask why, but rather encouraged them to do so, since church is very important, especially for their daughter. I didn't exactly use the word "encourage" because I didn't know how to say it, but they got the point. Later we found out that Michelle's father's brother had a conflict with the local church, and that they were essentially thrown out. The conflict wasn't big and it wasn't a salvation issue, but it affected his family greatly. From this I learned two things: 1) You shouldn't be disappointed when the people you are witnessing to are already Christians. Instead, you should rejoice with your newly found brothers and sisters in Christ. 2) We should avoid fights within the church at all costs, because Jesus teaches love and unity, despite our differences.
-Emily
Te amo!
It was a crisp November day, and my dad and I were in one of our favorite places: Mexico. Our church goes there four times a year on mission trips, where we build houses, relationships, and hang out with our sponsored kids. This was my eighth trip and, as for my dad, we have lost count. I was so happy to be there, since the last time I had gone was eleven months before. That previous trip we had built a house for a family with a four year old who would be starting kindergarten the next fall. We fell in love with the family, and soon started sponsoring the little girl. Now, almost a year after meeting them, we were having lunch with them and their cousins, whose daughter is sponsored by a friend of ours. Most of the group was in the house eating, but my dad, Michelle's (our sponsor girl) parents, Michelle, and I were outside making rainbow loom bracelets and playing soccer. Then, my dad decided that right then would be a perfect time to open up a conversation about Jesus. With me as his translator, my dad asked Michelle's parents if they knew what it meant to be a Christian, and they did. Further questions proved that they were followers of Jesus, so my dad asked them if they went to church. They didn't. My dad didn't ask why, but rather encouraged them to do so, since church is very important, especially for their daughter. I didn't exactly use the word "encourage" because I didn't know how to say it, but they got the point. Later we found out that Michelle's father's brother had a conflict with the local church, and that they were essentially thrown out. The conflict wasn't big and it wasn't a salvation issue, but it affected his family greatly. From this I learned two things: 1) You shouldn't be disappointed when the people you are witnessing to are already Christians. Instead, you should rejoice with your newly found brothers and sisters in Christ. 2) We should avoid fights within the church at all costs, because Jesus teaches love and unity, despite our differences.
-Emily
Te amo!
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Adventures on the (Part-time) Mission Field {4}
I'm back with more to share
So, we were standing in one of the largest airports in the world with only a few hours' sleep under our belts surrounded by all of the hustle and bustle. Then, one of my travel companions announced that our church's missions pastor was flying our way. The way he said it, it made it sound like he was coming to rescue us. Upon clarification, I realized that he was not. (We didn't really need rescuing in the first place) He had a layover in the airport we were in and so while we were there we would stop by their gate and say hi. But that wasn't for another three hours, so after dinner we went to our gate to wait. I honestly cannot remember what I did in all of that waiting, but I am sure it included a lot of instagramming and youtubing. Finally, their plane was about to land, so we took the plane train (we took that thing so many times I will never forget its speech every time you get on and off) to a different concourse. There we waited and waited and waited, until it looked like they were not even on the plane in the first place. Finally, the missions pastor's daughter, an intern in my youth group, deplaned and I called her name. Her response was that of a tired traveler who was very confused, but it was great to see her. We walked their whole family down to their next gate (at this point we seemed to know where everything in the airport was), took a selfie, and bid them adeiu. The rest of my tale is boring- we went back to our gate and saw a plane. We then boarded that plane and flew through the night, and we finally landed in Brazil the next morning. And that concludes my airport adventure.
-Emily
Saturday, January 9, 2016
I Journaled Every Day for a Year- and This is What I Learned
2015 was an amazing year- I grew so much and one way that happened was through journaling- let's just say I am a HUGE advocate of it. On March 19th, 2014 I began journaling consistently- 2-4 times a week. Then, from December 13th, 2014, I started journaling every day. And I haven't stopped. The funny thing is, I didn't mean to. Nothing happened on December 13th that made me say, "From now on, I am going to journal everyday." Nope. And probably, if I would have said something like that, I would have failed. But somehow, I've stayed consistent. This past year I have just grown so close to Jesus that I can't help but talk to Him everyday. (my journal is a letter to Jesus) I have done a lot of reflecting on my journaling journey, and here are a few things I have learned:
1) It's a safe haven
As time progressed, I found that whenever something exciting or terrible or fun happened, I would run to my journal and write about it. This helped me to process things when I was mad, calm down when I was excited (or mad as well, really), and relive the moment. I now process and react to things differently that I have a place, a safe place, to let it all out.
2) It opens doors
Because I write everyday, I end up writing in public every once in a while. During church retreats I get up earlier so I can write, attracting lots of questions. One retreat, I was having a hard time for no apparent reason, so my leader told me where the chocolate stash was and encouraged me to go have some alone time. Oh, she knows me so well. You had better believe that I took my journal and that chocolate and sat in a quiet place, just to write and relax. My friend came and found me and, in a very pitying manner, said, "Why are you out here all by yourself?" My response? It's a little vulgar for me. "Because I freaking love journaling." True story. She was taken aback because I never talk like that, but it gave her a peek into my life and how much journaling affects me. I cannot count the number of times that someone has seen me journaling, asked me what I'm doing, and upon hearing my response, commended me on how good I am to journal. Let me just say, it's not me. It's Jesus.
3) It's an addiction
Definitely. Once I started, I could not stop, primarily because I was in a period of spiritual growth and I couldn't help but talk with God. Once you find your groove, you may never stop.
4) It's different for everyone
Journaling, like pretty much everything, looks different for everyone. Some people go through one journal a year, some go through five. Some people like to bullet journal, others literally throw up their thoughts and emotions. (I am definitely the latter) Some do it first thing in the morning, some in the afternoon, some at nights, others multiple times a day. Some only write about their day, others pray and write about their spiritual life too. Some people do it everyday, others once a week. I myself have overcome a lot in my journaling, and no matter how you journal- even if you bullet journal once a month- it stills counts, it still helps, and I respect you.
5) The word "Journaling" should not have a red squiggly line under it
It bothers me that words like "journaling" and "journaled" are not in the dictionary, or at least not the one on my computer. Journaling is an up and coming trend that has been around for ages, and it deserves respect. The journals of famous people have gone on to be read and published and are classics, so I encourage you to hop on the journaling bandwagon and commit to journaling at least once a week, and see where it leads you.
I hope you have enjoyed this post! It really comes from my heart, hence why it took a long time to write, and I hope you are encouraged that whatever effort you make in journaling is simply amazing.
-Emily
extremely avid journaler
1) It's a safe haven
As time progressed, I found that whenever something exciting or terrible or fun happened, I would run to my journal and write about it. This helped me to process things when I was mad, calm down when I was excited (or mad as well, really), and relive the moment. I now process and react to things differently that I have a place, a safe place, to let it all out.
2) It opens doors
Because I write everyday, I end up writing in public every once in a while. During church retreats I get up earlier so I can write, attracting lots of questions. One retreat, I was having a hard time for no apparent reason, so my leader told me where the chocolate stash was and encouraged me to go have some alone time. Oh, she knows me so well. You had better believe that I took my journal and that chocolate and sat in a quiet place, just to write and relax. My friend came and found me and, in a very pitying manner, said, "Why are you out here all by yourself?" My response? It's a little vulgar for me. "Because I freaking love journaling." True story. She was taken aback because I never talk like that, but it gave her a peek into my life and how much journaling affects me. I cannot count the number of times that someone has seen me journaling, asked me what I'm doing, and upon hearing my response, commended me on how good I am to journal. Let me just say, it's not me. It's Jesus.
3) It's an addiction
Definitely. Once I started, I could not stop, primarily because I was in a period of spiritual growth and I couldn't help but talk with God. Once you find your groove, you may never stop.
4) It's different for everyone
Journaling, like pretty much everything, looks different for everyone. Some people go through one journal a year, some go through five. Some people like to bullet journal, others literally throw up their thoughts and emotions. (I am definitely the latter) Some do it first thing in the morning, some in the afternoon, some at nights, others multiple times a day. Some only write about their day, others pray and write about their spiritual life too. Some people do it everyday, others once a week. I myself have overcome a lot in my journaling, and no matter how you journal- even if you bullet journal once a month- it stills counts, it still helps, and I respect you.
5) The word "Journaling" should not have a red squiggly line under it
It bothers me that words like "journaling" and "journaled" are not in the dictionary, or at least not the one on my computer. Journaling is an up and coming trend that has been around for ages, and it deserves respect. The journals of famous people have gone on to be read and published and are classics, so I encourage you to hop on the journaling bandwagon and commit to journaling at least once a week, and see where it leads you.
I hope you have enjoyed this post! It really comes from my heart, hence why it took a long time to write, and I hope you are encouraged that whatever effort you make in journaling is simply amazing.
-Emily
extremely avid journaler
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Adventures on the (Part time) Mission Field {3}
continued from the previous post
I woke up the next morning very confused. I mean, when you're in a hotel that smells like oranges and smoke almost being choked by your infinity scarf (don't sleep with one y'all, it's a bad idea) being woken up by someone whose kids you babysit, why wouldn't you be confused? Then, I remembered the night before: the news that our flight that been cancelled, the realization that we were now losing a day from our trip and I wouldn't be able to attend their youth group or go to their church, the angry scribbling in my journal. I remembered everyone (us Americans and a bunch of {really nice} Brazilians crowding around a gate agent for food and hotel vouchers. I remembered the guy who drove us to our hotel- off the book- saying all he needed was tips, and being surprisingly awake for it being 1 am. Wow, what a night. I found that my roommate had gotten me breakfast- a stale muffin, greasy sausage, an apple, and yogurt. I ate the muffin (well, tried to) and the sausage, journaled a little, and showered before we all took off for the airport to use our vouchers on good food. On our way to the airport we chatted with some other Brazilians in our same situation, but with two young girls and their flight wasn't until the next day. What a mess. Once we got to our destination, we had a little contest at La Madeline to see who could use the most of their voucher without having to pay extra. I don't remember who won, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. We then took the plane train over to another part of the airport to get a rental car. Mr. B and I wanted a sports car, but Mrs. B wouldn't have it. We rode an escalator down to get our car, and we were having a petty argument or something, causing Mr. B to pull out his phone and clarify whatever we were talking about with Siri. Then, in my sleep-deprived brain, I had a brilliant idea: while he was speaking to Siri, I shouted "elephant!", causing Siri to mess up. We do it a lot in my family, and the look on his face was hilarious. I later found out that it had really surprised him and helped to show him my true colors. We got in our little rental car and drove to The World of Coca-Cola, knocking something off Mrs. B's bucket list. It was fun, tasting sodas from all around the world, but my stomach hurt so badly after, and I never wanted Coke again. After a quick stop a CVS, we were back to the airport because we had no where else to go. That's when Mr. B got a text.
to be continued in my next post when I get back from Mexico
-Emily
I woke up the next morning very confused. I mean, when you're in a hotel that smells like oranges and smoke almost being choked by your infinity scarf (don't sleep with one y'all, it's a bad idea) being woken up by someone whose kids you babysit, why wouldn't you be confused? Then, I remembered the night before: the news that our flight that been cancelled, the realization that we were now losing a day from our trip and I wouldn't be able to attend their youth group or go to their church, the angry scribbling in my journal. I remembered everyone (us Americans and a bunch of {really nice} Brazilians crowding around a gate agent for food and hotel vouchers. I remembered the guy who drove us to our hotel- off the book- saying all he needed was tips, and being surprisingly awake for it being 1 am. Wow, what a night. I found that my roommate had gotten me breakfast- a stale muffin, greasy sausage, an apple, and yogurt. I ate the muffin (well, tried to) and the sausage, journaled a little, and showered before we all took off for the airport to use our vouchers on good food. On our way to the airport we chatted with some other Brazilians in our same situation, but with two young girls and their flight wasn't until the next day. What a mess. Once we got to our destination, we had a little contest at La Madeline to see who could use the most of their voucher without having to pay extra. I don't remember who won, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. We then took the plane train over to another part of the airport to get a rental car. Mr. B and I wanted a sports car, but Mrs. B wouldn't have it. We rode an escalator down to get our car, and we were having a petty argument or something, causing Mr. B to pull out his phone and clarify whatever we were talking about with Siri. Then, in my sleep-deprived brain, I had a brilliant idea: while he was speaking to Siri, I shouted "elephant!", causing Siri to mess up. We do it a lot in my family, and the look on his face was hilarious. I later found out that it had really surprised him and helped to show him my true colors. We got in our little rental car and drove to The World of Coca-Cola, knocking something off Mrs. B's bucket list. It was fun, tasting sodas from all around the world, but my stomach hurt so badly after, and I never wanted Coke again. After a quick stop a CVS, we were back to the airport because we had no where else to go. That's when Mr. B got a text.
to be continued in my next post when I get back from Mexico
-Emily
Monday, December 21, 2015
Adventures on the (Part-time) Mission Field {2}
Welcome to the second post in my "adventures" series! Last post I wrote about a time when things went wrong, and today I have a story about the same. Wow, having things go wrong sure does make for exciting stories, huh?
It was June 19th, and I was on my first overseas, plane-required mission trip. Our group was small- a married couple and myself. That day, we had flown into Atlanta, and would soon fly out to Brazil- a ten hour overnight flight. After dinner at Pei Wei, we went to our gate to wait. Our flight that was supposed to leave at ten was then delayed three and a half hours. My traveling companions realized we had a lot of time, so they pulled out their iPad mini to Skype their kids, while I decided to see if my friend was up for a chat. She was, and to my surprise, she was at another friends' house, twins, so I had three people to keep me entertained. I talked with them and we played Monopoly Deal over Skype (I won and will never forget that) and then my companions started a conversation with the Brazilians seated across from us. (Brazilians are really friendly, making this a pleasant layover) They kept talking and talking and I was trying to think of a way to tell my friends that I needed to go be friendly without just saying that out loud, cause, you know, they could hear me. I faked my internet problems and texted them that I needed to go, and then joined in the conversation around me. They were very nice- a husband, wife, and a little girl. We discussed the usual traveler stuff- jobs, beautiful places to visit in Brazil (we weren't going there as our final destination but at least we got tips for if any of us ever do), and kids. Then, there was an announcement. Our flight had been cancelled. Anger towards..well... everyone swelled up inside me.
Look out for the next section of the this sometime in the next few days.
-Emily
It was June 19th, and I was on my first overseas, plane-required mission trip. Our group was small- a married couple and myself. That day, we had flown into Atlanta, and would soon fly out to Brazil- a ten hour overnight flight. After dinner at Pei Wei, we went to our gate to wait. Our flight that was supposed to leave at ten was then delayed three and a half hours. My traveling companions realized we had a lot of time, so they pulled out their iPad mini to Skype their kids, while I decided to see if my friend was up for a chat. She was, and to my surprise, she was at another friends' house, twins, so I had three people to keep me entertained. I talked with them and we played Monopoly Deal over Skype (I won and will never forget that) and then my companions started a conversation with the Brazilians seated across from us. (Brazilians are really friendly, making this a pleasant layover) They kept talking and talking and I was trying to think of a way to tell my friends that I needed to go be friendly without just saying that out loud, cause, you know, they could hear me. I faked my internet problems and texted them that I needed to go, and then joined in the conversation around me. They were very nice- a husband, wife, and a little girl. We discussed the usual traveler stuff- jobs, beautiful places to visit in Brazil (we weren't going there as our final destination but at least we got tips for if any of us ever do), and kids. Then, there was an announcement. Our flight had been cancelled. Anger towards..well... everyone swelled up inside me.
Look out for the next section of the this sometime in the next few days.
-Emily
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Adventures on the (Part-time) Mission Field {1}
Welcome to my first installment of my series I call "Adventures on the (part-time) mission field"! I have so many stories swirling around in my head and it took a long time to figure out which one to write about first, but the following story holds a special place in my heart.
It was the morning of December 31st, 2014 and it was time to leave Mexico. Our team of ten had an amazing time, but this day had one agenda: go home. As was discussed the night before at devotions, everyone would get up early and leave the hotel at 4:30, in order to cross the Mexican border quickly, so the out-of-state teams could catch their flights at the airport in the nearest American town. Our team, however, was a exception. We didn't fly to Mexico, we drove. This made sense, because we only lived six hours away. And, because my dad was leading our team and he likes his sleep, we decided to sleep in and leave the hotel two hours later, around 6:30. So, we woke up and did some last minute packing, but it didn't take long for problems to arise. My dad had gone out to our van (our only form of transportation) to load some luggage, finding it, well, not there. Others from our team who had loaded their luggage the night before began to wonder where their luggage (and our way home) was. It didn't take long to find out. Dad called the leader of the whole trip, who was at the airport dropping people off. He had our van. On the other side of the border. Oh, joy. The only logical next step was for us to load up in three taxis and drive to the border, then walk across the Rio Grande (on a bridge, of course). Typical day, right? To make things even better, it was cold. As in, the 40s. And raining. Fun fun. As we crazy gringos carried our luggage (it was at this point that I regretted bringing my stuff in three different bags) across the bridge with 4 inch puddles, I did a lot of thinking about the people who do this, cross the border, everyday, in search of hope. Keep looking, my friends, keep looking. After going through customs and getting a few funny looks (especially when my dad tried to make me do the splits against the wall of the customs office), someone from another church came to our rescue. After we dropped him off at the airport, we sped away before anyone else could take our van. We were on our way home, but not before having breakfast at Chick-Fil-A (there may have been a honey eating contest between myself and my pastor). That was a memorable and tiring trip indeed, as evidenced by the fact that I could barely stay awake to rush in the new year that night. Things didn't go right that day, but that made to all the better.
-Emily (always being flexible)
It was the morning of December 31st, 2014 and it was time to leave Mexico. Our team of ten had an amazing time, but this day had one agenda: go home. As was discussed the night before at devotions, everyone would get up early and leave the hotel at 4:30, in order to cross the Mexican border quickly, so the out-of-state teams could catch their flights at the airport in the nearest American town. Our team, however, was a exception. We didn't fly to Mexico, we drove. This made sense, because we only lived six hours away. And, because my dad was leading our team and he likes his sleep, we decided to sleep in and leave the hotel two hours later, around 6:30. So, we woke up and did some last minute packing, but it didn't take long for problems to arise. My dad had gone out to our van (our only form of transportation) to load some luggage, finding it, well, not there. Others from our team who had loaded their luggage the night before began to wonder where their luggage (and our way home) was. It didn't take long to find out. Dad called the leader of the whole trip, who was at the airport dropping people off. He had our van. On the other side of the border. Oh, joy. The only logical next step was for us to load up in three taxis and drive to the border, then walk across the Rio Grande (on a bridge, of course). Typical day, right? To make things even better, it was cold. As in, the 40s. And raining. Fun fun. As we crazy gringos carried our luggage (it was at this point that I regretted bringing my stuff in three different bags) across the bridge with 4 inch puddles, I did a lot of thinking about the people who do this, cross the border, everyday, in search of hope. Keep looking, my friends, keep looking. After going through customs and getting a few funny looks (especially when my dad tried to make me do the splits against the wall of the customs office), someone from another church came to our rescue. After we dropped him off at the airport, we sped away before anyone else could take our van. We were on our way home, but not before having breakfast at Chick-Fil-A (there may have been a honey eating contest between myself and my pastor). That was a memorable and tiring trip indeed, as evidenced by the fact that I could barely stay awake to rush in the new year that night. Things didn't go right that day, but that made to all the better.
-Emily (always being flexible)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)