Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Who, But Us?

¨Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? There is no one but us. There is is no one to send, nor a clean hand, nor a pure heart on the face of the earth, nor in the earth, but only us, a generation comforting ourselves with the notion that we have come at an awkward time, that our innocent fathers are all dead -as if innocence had ever been- and our children busy and troubled, and we ourselves unfit, not yet ready, having each of us chosen wrongly, made a false start, failed, yielded to impulse and the tangled comfort of pleasures, and grown exhausted, unable to seek the thread, weak, and involved. But there is no one but us. There never has been.¨
--Annie Dillard

In the middle of September I realized I had passed the half-way mark of my travels. Time is beyond my control, it´s out of my reach, it´s on the loose. I´ve spend the last two weeks recovering and petitioning the Lord. This is what I am learning.

I am just passing through this strange country. ¨God is at home¨ says Meister Eckhard, ¨We are in the far country.¨ The same God that sent Isaiah, who, the poor chap, happened to be the only one nearby, sends me. He continues to send.

I am only a traveler, a foreigner; all I know is now. I know that the Lord redeems. He has redeemed my life, he continues to redeem. He is the Father of me, of these children I pass each day with. He calls us His children and He is leading us home. That is firm, and that is all I have. He is leading me, he is leading us, home.

Note: These thoughts were all ignited by a book that presently seems to follow me, Holy the Firm. A book written by Annie Dillard.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

A Life In A Day Of...

6:15 All of us boys are abruptly awakened by the glow of the inconsistent, white fluorescent light. Or is it Ramon, shaking our feet violently and repeatedly saying, ¨arriba!¨?

6:30 Worship. Typically it initiates with a song, everyone seems a little drowsy, it’s a quieter song. Then Paty, the Mom, teaches. Frequently it begins with mom things like, ¨why are your eyes closed while I am speaking¨ or ¨why are crumbs on the floor when you just swept¨ and rapidly transforms into teaching, a daybreak devotional. Then a prayer and another song. But this song is the big one, finally faces are awake. It is one of my favorite times of the day.

7:00 Breakfast: Bread, coffee and babble.

7:35 I clean breakfast table number 4 -the guy’s table. This encompasses the responsibilities of bringing all dishes to the kitchen, folding the tablecloths, washing the tables and stacking chairs. My other daily chore is to clean the boy’s laundry room.

8:30 This time always looks a little different each day. Sometimes I play with the younger girls, which usually includes a second breakfast. They set the table beautifully, right next to a couple of trees and the rock wall that runs around the property. The table is a gigantic stump cut from a bulky Samu'u Tree. We eat bread, well at least that´s what they identify it as, but really it´s just dark red sand. And they serve me black coffee from a rock. Or I build kites. Or I play soccer. Or read and memorize verbs with their conjugations.

11:00 Leave for my Spanish class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The bus ride is about one and a half hours long.

12:30 Class starts. Practice different conjugations of verbs, always lots of verb exercises. Pronunciation. Writing in past tense and just speaking in general. I am now learning how to say something in the past that was done repetitively but is currently completed. In English, for example, we would say, ¨I used to run, ¨ in Spanish you just conjugate the verb ¨to run¨ a certain way. Strange.

1:00 Lunch on days I don´t have class. Usually pasta or rice with some type of beef. The food is delicious. Something that separates lunch from other meals is that there is always juice for lunch. I have fallen for mango juice.

1:45 Clean lunch table 4.

2:00 Read and siesta.

3:00 My showering time. By this time the outside, daily chores have usually been done. I have figured out if I take my showers at this certain window of time I have the best chance of staying clean for the most consecutive minutes in the day. Regularly I am dirty with red dust or child’s snot within minutes of climbing out.

3:30 A time of helping with dinner or going on a walk. Sometimes laundry, by hand or machine. Study. Attempt to learn Spanish songs or spend time searching for English songs on the radio, in which I sometimes find, except it always seems to be Bob Marley´s Jammin´or Lionel Richie´s Brick House. Always.

6:00 Merienda, or mid-afternoon snack in English. Usually some sort of starch and coffee.

6:30 Until dinner time, it´s cartoon time for the younger kids. Typically I catch bits and pieces of the action in Power Puff Girls! If I am not learning of the adventures of Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, I could be found with the older kids working on coursework. Or I might be in the back with the boys, playing Monopoly, which I learned is not played by the same rules described on the back of the box. Of course. The first time I played hotels had gone up before my first trip around the board. The pace of the game is incredible. If you get the chance to play with them, good luck, I never last long.

7:15 Younger children´s dinner, ages 2-12. Frenzied and hysterical.

8:00 Good night prayers for the young ones.

9:00 Dinner. The food is frequently rice or beans with beef; sometimes eggs. I nearly always crave seconds.

9:45 Head out to my bunk bed and try to read a little before the lights get turned off. I am exhausted. Sleep is quick to follow.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Go and Build A Dream

Today was a perfect day. It consisted of a comprehensive tutorial in building a kite from scratch, my instructors, four, 11 year-old boys.

First, the harvesting of materials. To assemble such a flying contraption all that is required are sticks, trash bags and string. If you are unable to find a complete reel of string it will be sufficient to tie the many random pieces of cord found together in your front yard, or your neighbor’s front yard, into a complete globe. Just ignore the massive knots.

Next, the construction of the Frame. The Frame is made up of the Spine, the sticks that make up the outside edge of the kite, and the Spar, the cross-supports. When completed, the kite should be a perfect diamond-shape with the distance measured out accurately using the thumb-to-pinky method. The assemblage of the Frame demands precision and accuracy in which I am not capable of without mechanical tools -including rulers, sandpaper and power-tools. The kids make it look easy.

Using string, or cord, meticulously connect all pieces.

Next, thoroughly cut a plastic bag to fit directly over your diamond-shaped frame. If you do not have access to scissors, a plain butter-knife will be adequate.

Following this, craft the tail of the kite by knotting many plastic bags together.

Then, attach the kite to the twine securely. If this step is not completed with precision your kite may be subject to wind damage, which could possibly lead to failure. Please take note that kites are dynamic beasts; no two will ever be alike. Expect to make adjustments in a moment’s time and remember all decisions are subject to your personal discretion.

And now, wait. Wait for the wind to pick up. It will, at least it did in Paraguay. It picked up that night while the sun was on its way down.

Perfect.

I just happened to be waiting for the bus. I wasn´t included in the moment but I got to see it. The sun had painted the sky and was now disappearing behind the clouds and the boys just sat with their dreams in flight.

Perfect.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Pass Me Not

¨My Lord, if now I have found favor in thy sight, pass not away, I pray thee, from thy servant¨

I have finally moved my things to the orphanage -everything. It all measures out to be exactly two crates worth of belongings. Enough. My reunion with the children was sweet, full of flying arms and legs, screams, and random Spanish I am yet capable of translating.

And now as I am writing, I´ve called this place my home for about a week. It feels like home. I am able to tease the little girls by running towards them with my lips smacked together -charging for a kiss; by extending my arm begging for a dance partner. I´ve been sick and have warmly been taken care of. I´ve swept dust covered floors and I´ve been teased for doing curious things with my tongue.

Showering is always an experience; sometimes the water wont turn on from the beginning. But, the worst occurs usually when water is functional from the get-go. The water will run long enough to give one ample time to lather in soap and then suddenly stop. I am currently at the stage of understanding where, all the sudden, this water evades to. I have begun to compile a list of suspects. The first is that naturally things in Paraguay do not function as designed -leading one safe to the conclusion that water pressure comes and goes. The other option is that the kids, one in particular, find it funny when I scream at the shower, in English nonetheless, to work. I am instinctively drawn to this conclusion because this one particular boy takes no caution in hiding his identity of being the one known to haphazardly throw cups of frigid water into my already cold shower.

A very special tradition has developed since my stay in the orphanage. Most nights, right after the younger children´s dinner, I join the 6 through 12 year-old boys for their bedtime prayers. It is beautiful. This room is crammed with twenty or so, bright-eyed, joyous boys. When I enter, usually an argument is being settled by Lali, a wonderful, middle-aged woman who lives at the orphanage with her four children, over whom will get the privilege of praying for the night. More often than not Lali eventually gives in and allows all of them to pray. And do they pray. They pray for their family and friends. They pray for my family and friends. They pray for Paraguay. They pray for the United States. They thank God for the beautiful day and they ask Him to join their tomorrow.

After their prayers, I have had the blessing of singing to them. I sing Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior. I sing with confidence knowing that God has not passed these children -He dwells in them and with them, I experience His presence every night.

May God bless and keep you.

Your Son and Friend,
JON


Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior

Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Let me at Thy throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief,
Kneeling there in deep contrition;
Help my unbelief.

Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Invitation

Dear Loved Ones,

¨You have already been pruned for greater fruitfulness by the message I have given you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful apart from me.¨ John 15:4

It is with great love and hope that I write to you, my dear friends.

This past summer I have been in Paraguay studying Spanish. While I’ve been here I feel as though God has called me to a unique season of pruning. Not a season of distance and loneliness, but a season rich in movement –an active process of stretching and releasing, growing and fading.

In all of this I believe that God’s voice has distinctively spoken and directed I stay in Paraguay for this coming semester. My confidence in staying comes from repetitive words that the Spirit of God spoke. The story of Jonah –a man who could not escape from the Lord and the Lord’s call –had significant and specific weight in my decision. It is with this news I write to express my hope for a partnership with my family and friends this coming semester. I am writing to invite you along with me on this journey.

I will be spending my remaining four months in Paraguay at a local orphanage. I am not becoming an orphan boy; none of the children there are orphans. I am purposely and seriously calling God to be my Father, my provider. I am also calling out God’s promise that the Kingdom of God is near –it is amongst us.

I look forward to simple meals, hard, daily chores –being physically and mentally drained by the end of the day. I look forward to dusty walks on the trail near the orphanage. I look forward to sharing my life with 200 beautiful children. I look forward to learning Spanish.

It is my prayer that I live this life with a certain urgency. Not an unhealthy, materialistic urgency, but a calm assurance that God is leading. He is speaking. He is present. I will miss you all greatly for the four months I will be gone and I am confident that our reunion will be rich. I anticipate wonderful stories, food, and laughter.

I am going to commit to making weekly updates of my travels –a collection of stories intermixed with thoughts and prayers. It has been quite hard for me to write my experiences down in coherent thoughts and complete sentences the first two months of my travels. I now believe that in some ways I have thought of my experience with selfish motives, but it has become very clear to me that I am going to need you all the next four months. I am excited to travel with you all.

I look forward to hearing your voices soon. May God keep us all safe and in His care until we see each other again.

Your Friend,
JON BIRNEY