The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

The hands-down hardest thing I've ever done is TRYING TO MASTER THIS FOREIGN LANGUAGE!!!

Man alive! This undertaking is no joke.

I know in my heart that I will get there someday; there isn't a doubt in my mind. What's unfortunate is that this knowledge does nothing to prevent the days of now and then feeling overwhelmed by how vast the language is and how slow progress feels.

Academia de Espanol Guacamaya.

Guacamaya is the language school I enrolled in during the summer when I decided to move to town three weeks early for some focused Spanish study. My teacher became a friend, and now we still meet on weekends for a language exchange - one hour of Spanish practice for me, followed by an hour of English practice for her.

There's a phrase I can hear echoing in my head from the July morning when I was feeling discouraged during my Spanish lesson. "Poco a poco," said my teacher. She was telling me that the language is acquired "little by little." And she was right. Progress is the goal every day - not instant perfection.

And the words I added to the teacher's sentiment during that conversation: "Paciencia y fe!" I know patience and faith will be of use to me on the journey of progressing a little at a time.

Bueno/Menos

 Dark, scary skies are so beautiful to me!

My day was good.

Bueno: The latest software update for my laptop was apparently all I needed to solve two pesky problems I've had since settling in Honduras.

Problem #1 was that FaceTime calls wouldn't connect at all. Living a thousand miles from everyone I love made this problem hard to ignore. It's true I am meeting some wonderful locals in my new town, but there is no substitute for access to free technology that enables you to see and speak with the friends who have known you since junior high school.

Problem #2 was that Spotify was refusing to grant access to the free account where I keep my treasure chest of music playlists. Something about international access being barred except in the case of users who pay for a "Premium" account.

But now that I finally allowed the software update run on my computer, FaceTime and Spotify work like a charm!

And by the way, the album your ears need to meet now on Spotify is this one:
John Smith – Great Lakes

Menos: Esta lloviendo! (It's raining!)
No software update could put an end to the weather we're having during the rainy season here. Actually, rain wouldn't be such a bummer if it happened more often during the workday and less on weekends. But we're one month into the academic year, and I don't remember a day when there was rainfall during school.

Another bummer for today was the spottiness of the video stream I was depending on for viewing the Georgia game this morning. If you didn't know, University of Georgia football is one of the great loves of my life!

Walls

"Sometimes we put up walls...

Not to keep people out but to see who cares enough to knock them down."

I found those words, as well as some scribbled designs and drawings, written on the back of a quiz handed in by one of my students the other day. I had told the class they could draw on the back of the quiz if they finished early, but when I saw the message this girl wrote, I was surprised.

I teach teenagers (not small kids), but the statement about "walls" was profound in a way I didn't expect. And what made it even more interesting was the fact that the girl who wrote it is someone I can picture the statement applying to perfectly.

This view from the roof of my apartment brings to mind another context that involves walls.

Living in cities and suburbs as an adult has helped me realize something about my relationship with wide open skies and other spaces in nature. Something in me seems to need those skies and spaces. And the further or longer I am away from them, the more city buildings and concrete feel like walls keeping me out.

Being A Champion Never Gets Old!

As a teenager, I was a thrower on my school's track team for a few years. A great experience for sure.

During the Skype interview for my teaching job here in Copan, the interviewer asked if I ever participated in school athletics as a student. When he found out I used to be a thrower, he told me the school's track team competes in the throwing events. He said it in a way that made me suspect I might be roped into helping out with coaching.

When track season began here last month, that is exactly what happened. And I want you to know that coaching young throwers has been pretty fantastic.

October 2013 - athletes from our school standing on the medalist podium at last year's national meet.
FYI: the Spanish word for winner is "ganador."

Track season is really short, and the big meet is approaching fast - next Thursday, in fact. For me, the anticipation has begun to make me wish I could step into the discus circle next week and compete!

Then today, when we started practice, my excitement reached a whole new level. I think the kids could tell.

I said to the throwers, “Okay, here we go. It’s almost time for the meet, and I’m excited. I feel like I did when I was where you are. And the team I was on - we were the best. We won the big meet. All we could do back then was be our best, and that ended up being enough to make us the best team. And that’s just what I want to see from you - be your best. That’s all anybody can do."

Now what's funny to me is I hadn't even planned to say any of that!

More photos from the national meet last year:

Here's Katia, and above is Victor - two throwers who are forced to receive a triple dose of me every day

for English class, Literature class, and then track & field!

The other week, one of the team captains read a famous quote at the end of practice. I knew I had heard it before, but this time, I seemed to FEEL it. And I haven’t stopped feeling it for several days now.

Here's the quote, attributed to Muhammad Ali:
“I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion’."

Try Not To Be Jealous

I did something today that you did not do. It's called shopping for groceries in the dark.

Power outages are frequent here, and when I stopped at the corner mini market on my walk home from school, the clerk was cloaked in darkness and holding a flashlight. She's kinda cute too, and she seems to be a person of faith, but I digress.

The phrase people use here to declare or lament a power outage is "No hay luz!"
(sounds like "no eye LOOSE")

Shopping with no lights today was less than wonderful, but I guess it beat the time I was caught in the barber's chair mid haircut when the power went out one evening.

My prize for braving the dark aisles of the market:

I moved to town in July but somehow am just now purchasing my first box of good ol' breakfast cereal.

Not sure I ever heard of lactose free skim milk prior to Honduras, but my digestive system is pretty happy about it.
Copan actually has a product called Ranchitas that is like Doritos but better, but I've only found it in a small snack size bag so far.

Fortunately, electricity was restored about an hour after I made it home from the market.

A Sweet Aroma

I was probably in 12th grade when David Meadows looked at me and said, "Man, I love it when a girl walks by and just smells so good!"

I thought it was funny and unexpected when he made the comment, but my opinion was the same as his.

Some people say being in Copan is like going back in time. I guess it reminds them of another time because of the simple, low-tech, rural life found in this little town in the mountains of a developing country.

Tonight, it's funny to think about one way Copan reminds me of days gone by. Friends in Nashville (Hi, Brandon and Valerie) have heard me mention the fact that when I was growing up, it was as though people felt interested in smelling good. I'm not talking about bathing and wearing deodorant for good hygiene; in the old days, folks would identify some fragrance that actually smelled right on them, and they would wear an appropriate amount of it.

But in recent years, for reasons I don't know, it's as though no one would like to smell good anymore. I must say, that's not the case in Copan Ruinas.

Back home, I seldom notice someone passing by and leaving behind a tasteful amount of a nice fragrance. It happens there occasionally, but I've been struck by how much more common it is here.

If you're ever with me in Copan or in America, there's a way to know when I just caught a whiff of someone whose perfume I admire. I have gotten in the habit of reacting with these words under my breath:
"God, please make my life a living sacrifice that's holy and pleasing to you. Make me a fragrant offering that fills your presence with a sweet aroma."

Beyond This Dream Of Mine

I spent five of the past six years working at a university in Nashville. My boss's boss's boss (Andrew) was an interesting guy and somewhat of a mentor for me there.

In the spring of 2013, shortly after deciding to finally chase the dream of moving abroad, I met with Andrew to tell him what I was planning. I wanted to fill him in because previously he had asked to be kept up to date on plans for life after the university. Another reason I wanted to fill him in was I hoped he would have resources or contacts to recommend. After all, I didn't have a clue how to get a job in a foreign country!

Andrew was pretty surprised to hear what I wanted to do. I guess few people knew about that desire of mine.

But in true Andrew fashion, he reacted to my news with some cool thoughts that I really appreciated. For example, he found it interesting to think about the notion that aside from the language learning goal in my head, the Lord would have goals of his own for my time living in a foreign land. This actually never entered my mind until Andrew mentioned it. Before then, I had been totally focused on Spanish.

After about an hour, I left Andrew's office and returned to my department. No resources or contacts had come to mind for him, but the conversation was great like always.

I saw him again days later when I passed through the area where his secretary's desk is located. I was on my way to a meeting, and when Andrew saw me, he told me to step into his office for a minute. I stopped in front of his desk just as reached down to pick up something from behind it. "I was hoping I would run into you again soon; this is for you," he said, extending a gift bag to me.

"Oh man, thank you so much," I said in total surprise. I opened the bag and found a small box containing a copy of the Holy Bible.

Just then, I was in the middle of explaining to him that I didn't own a copy that size, when I realized the version he was giving me was printed in Spanish.

"It won't be of much use to you now, but eventually..."

I stood there blown away. What a marvelous gift. What a marvelous mind and heart to have the foresight to think of such a gift idea.

Andrew and I both knew I was kidding and serious when I said, "I'd better get to my meeting so my eyes don't start getting wet right now." I thanked him and walked out.

It was probably the most beautiful Bible I had ever seen, and for days, I kept thinking about it and the gesture behind it.

When the time came for me to pack for Honduras, one year had passed. Everything I needed for life had to fit in two suitcases and two carry-ons. With the space and weight constraints of travel, I knew it wouldn't be possible to bring along the reading material I was interested in. So, only three small books made the trip - two books about the craft of writing, and you already know what the third book is!

Bueno/Menos

My day was good.

Bueno: On a whim, I decided to tell the 9th grade English class a story from my days as a 9th grader. It was the story of the first time I asked a girl for a date. You should have seen their little faces through all the suspense and silliness of my storytelling!

Menos: A conversation with someone at work left me mourning the fact that Copan doesn't have a convenient street I can use for the type of running workout I enjoyed back in Nashville this time of year.

Here's Lauren, one of the other foreign teachers, on the road that leads to our school.

Streets in the center of town are paved with cobblestones, just like this one.

Photo credit: Jenny Wright

Bribing Small Children

My landlord has two nephews that are 3 years old - Kevin and Denzel.
(Yes, names that seem quite American were chosen for these little Honduran guys).

The two of them are cousins, but they live near each other and hang out together a lot. About four weeks ago, they walked in while I was visiting the landlord. Happy to see them, I decided to employ a trick kids always love - being spun around in the air. But when I picked up Denzel and went into a slow spin, it was clear right away that he wasn't having a good time.

I lowered him back to the ground, and he wasted no time moving away from me. The family members in the room chuckled and remarked, "Awww....tiene miedo," suggesting that Denzel had been frightened by the ride I tried to give him. They were right.

And from that day, each time I saw him and said hello, he would only make an ugly face and stick out his tongue at me, his pride obviously wounded.

As if that wasn't sad enough, I soon realized that even Kevin was giving me the same treatment! I guess these two cousins stick together.

Kevin and Denzel

(Pronounced with Spanish vowel and consonant sounds - "KEH-veen" and "DEN-cell")

They live right beside me, and after about a week, I decided I couldn't cope with them being at odds with me any longer. So, at the market that week, I made a special purchase: watermelon flavored gummy candy. The time for bribing small children had come.

I actually didn't see either of them for a couple of days after buying the candy, so I placed the bag on my bookshelf. Then one afternoon as I rushed to leave my apartment, there was Denzel, approaching the gate to his house but looking at me. "Denzel!" I said with delight. I was pressed for time but decided to turn the key and go back inside for the bag of candy.

When I returned to my doorstep, I saw that the little buckaroo was still standing by his gate.

My eyes went to the bag I was fumbling with, and I pulled it open as I said, "Denzel, dulces?" I guess he knew the meaning of that word, because before I could blink, he had traveled the distance between my home and his to join me in front of my door.

I motioned for him to make the shape of a cup with his hands and then filled the cup with watermelon-y goodness.

"Donde esta Kevin?" I asked. Denzel turned and scooted away, searching and screaming for him.

You won't be surprised to learn that Denzel was, in fact, able to bring Kevin to me right away. Once Kevin's hands were filled with gummies, I left the scene, feeling triumphant. And since then, the sound of those two boys chirping, "Hola!" as they pass my apartment is like music to my ears.