A Public Apology

to all my English teachers through the years...

I am sorry for my addiction to entertainment and my lack of appreciation for the assignments you gave, which were designed to maximize my understanding and appreciation of the lessons to be learned from a work, as well as the skill of the author.

So, I read The Scarlet Letter with my class this term, and had a great time doing so. I'd never read the book before, so it was an exciting read.  We didn't do many activities as we read- I think it detracts from the reading experience sometimes.  Afterwards, I simply held a week of round table discussion on the book and lessons we can take from it.  So Monday through Thursday, we rearranged Classroom B into a circle of 13 desks and settled in to discuss, debate, and dissect The Scarlet Letter.  This is the type of activity my students have been begging for.  They think I treat them childishly and don't give them the chance to think and be adults. So I embarked on this week-long experimental journey. I felt like it went really well. The students did enjoy the discussion.  During the week I also had them write a journal entry on a character flaw/sin struggle in themselves, and design a scarlet letter coinciding with the fault to wear around school one day.  I thought this was a really interesting way to get inside Hester Prynn's head.  So, assignments being minimalistic in work and maximizing the value of independent thought, I felt we were on the right track. We spent a whole week talking about ways this book relates to our lives, ways we can reach out to "the least of these" and ways we are all too often like the Puritans in the novel.

Friday, students turned in a reflection journal on their experiences.  By and large the response was as follows: The book didn't have enough action, isn't all that applicable to our lives, and the letter-wearing experience was ineffective.  (I'll give them credit, they all enjoyed the discussion format, at least for a while.)

*cue sigh of exhausted, confused teacher*

And so, I recall the popular saying, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

I really love teaching these kids. I really love these kids. I really love literature. And sometimes, at the end of the day, I still get this feeling that I'm failing across the board.

Is it like that for everyone?  I mean, is this a common experience for teachers?  Did I torture my poor teachers with statements like, "this isn't applicable in today's world,"or, "they talk to much," or, "I just couldn't connect with it"?  I guess I probably did.

But that is why, today, I would like to apologize.  To Mrs. Brumley, Mrs. Upton, Mrs. Walters , Mr. Hinton, Mrs. Lassiter, Dr. Miller, Dr. Randle, Dr. Harding, and several others I probably plagued with my complaints- I apologize. I now understand. And if it makes you feel better, my scarlet letter was L for lazy. As if we didn't all know it.  Dr. Randle being at the top of the list of those who can testify to the truth of that assessment.

And that's my rant for today. Back to the books, now. Gotta figure out our next route to the water...

μένω

I was reading through John 15 this week with a friend, chatting about what God has to say to us with this passage.
"What do you think it means to abide in Christ?" he asked me.

I thought for a minute, remembering the times I've translated this verse from the Greek text. μένω (meno) is the word used, meaning stay, or wait, or even continue.

"Dwell there," I responded. "Live in Him. No back and forth. He's home."

"For in him we live and move and have our being." (Acts 17:28)
So whether I'm just going through daily life, whether I'm on the move, transitioning and changing, or whether I'm simply being...
It's in Him.
I'm in Him.
He is my home.
I'm home.

"As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love." (John 15:9)

RomCom Problems

So there's this guy...
How many conversations in my life have started like that!
Don't get all excited, all of you matchmakers out there. This isn't Allison's confession of undying love for someone. It's not even a confession of a crush.  Sorry to disappoint.
But I've been thinking, and I think the Romantic Comedy genre has really ruined us girls. The guys in the movies are always so perfect, ya know? But I'm ahead of myself...

So let me describe to you what I mean.  Here's a scenario I (and I'm sure many others of you out there) have found yourself in. (Or maybe it's just me...)  Ya meet this cute guy, and a few weeks later, discover he does indeed love Jesus. A good start, right?  So ya get to know him a little better (easily done at college), and a fun little crush begins to develop.  Some time goes by, and you start to suspect he's a little interested too.  You know him pretty well now- you've been around him a good bit, seen him in different environments, and perhaps even had some one-on-one time.  Of course you've gotta share the spark with your friends, and you start thinking the whole thing over in your head.  As girls, our minds jump to a marriage and family place. (I'm rolling my eyes at how ridiculous we can be.  Just know that.)  And so begins the debate.

You've been heard your whole life things like, "Don't settle. He must love Jesus more than anything else ever, and he better treat you like the perfect little princess you are.  Make sure he'll be a good daddy, and if you ever see his eyes wandering, run away fast.  How does he treat his mother? Have you ever heard him say anything inappropriate?  Does he make you laugh? Make sure he fights fair.  How many girls has he dated?" etc etc etc etc etc.

So you start thinking through all these things.  Well, he's smart, he's cute, he loves Jesus a lot.  He cares about missions. He has some family problems, maybe.  Does that mean he's gonna be a bad dad?  What if his dad's crazy? That's bad news, right?  Well...that's the first negative. Let's keep going. He treats you really well. Maybe he forgets to open the door here and there, but he is very protective. You've never seen wandering eyes, but you know he thinks Beyonce's hot. Is that okay?  And he told you about when he used to mess around with porn. That's not great, hm...? But I mean, don't most guys struggle with that?  Well, I've heard him make some slightly inappropriate jokes with the guys. Uh oh...Maybe this isn't looking so great.  He always makes me laugh, always makes me smile....He doesn't bring me flowers when we fight. He doesn't come up with some cute song or poem for me every time I'm sad.  But he values my happiness.  He makes sacrifices for me.

And so it begins...the struggle...
Is he good enough?  Is he not good enough?
What if...
He's not always romantic. He sometimes forgets to text me back.  He doesn't tell me all day every day how beautiful I am. Sometimes he says the wrong thing at the wrong time.  Sometimes he's awkward.  Sometimes he wears this ugly shirt.  Sometimes he doesn't get my jokes.  Sometimes he gets unnecessarily jealous.  Sometimes he isn't Tom Hanks in "You've Got Mail" or even Mr. Darcy. Sometimes he isn't perfect.

And at this rate, no guy is ever gonna be good enough.

Now, I understand that my daddy insists the previous statement is true.  And I'm not saying at all that we girls should "settle."  Whatever that means.

I'm just saying...well...I'm not perfect. Sometimes I'm controlling. Sometimes I'm rude. Sometimes I'm mean.  Sometimes I'm ridiculously jealous. Sometimes I'm needy.  I struggle with habitual sins. I pretend to get jokes that are over my head. Sometimes I'm obnoxiously nosy.  Sometimes I am selfish and conceited and unkind and sometimes my love for Jesus isn't nearly as passionate as it should be and sometimes I wonder if it's even safe for me to have kids, seeing as how all I can cook them is mac and cheese, pancakes, and spaghetti!  I legitimately question things like, "what if I get tired of my children?".

So...
Here's to you, imperfect someone.  The guy out there who will put up with my ridiculousness.  The man who loves Jesus and still regularly screws up.  Hope you're okay with "settling" for less than perfect.  Hope you've made a few mistakes, because I sure have.  Hope you aren't Tom Hanks, cause I'm no Meg Ryan.  Hope we get our happily ever after, with tons of problems to work through, and lots of fighting, fair or unfair.  Hope Christ's love will get us through it all, and bring joy and laughter and a lifetime of imperfect learning together. 

Honesty

I have a confession.

Last night, I laid in my bed and (in my head) yelled out all my complaints to God. I screamed at Him. I told him I wasn't okay with all the things going on in my life lately. I cried and complained and poured out my heart to my Heavenly Father. I told him how angry I was that things weren't going my way and how scared I was to give Him control. (I realize the idea that I have to "give" God control is silly, but sometimes emotions make us a little illogical.)

I fell asleep angry and begging for rest.

I woke up rested.

If you read Jon Acuff's blog today, this will sound like a rip-off, but I swear I was thinking it already. But sometimes I feel like I have to be so...proper? with Jesus.  I feel like I should pray politically correctly. I spent a lot of time trying to say things so God won't be angry with me or think I'm rude and ungrateful. (Newsflash: I am! But that's kinda beside the point.)  I'm really good with language. I use words to make me look good, to get what I want, to work situations out to my benefit... and sometimes I think that process will work with Jesus. If I just say things in the right way, He won't get mad at me. He'll like my prayers more. He'll like ME more!
Again, I realize this is stupid, but... I bet you do it too. Or maybe you don't.

Last night all reserves were gone. Last night I quit trying to impress God.  Last night raw emotions took over.  I'm not saying that yelling at God is a good idea. He reminded me of that whole conversation he had with Job about how I wasn't around when he formed the earth and so what right had I to accuse Him of making me miserable?

I feel like this is a really big step for me though. I've never been quite so honest with God. But I like this. I love realizing that I can tell Him anything. I mean, I knew that before...but...now I KNOW it. I've experienced it. I feel it.

I'm rambling. But I needed someone to know.
Progress is happening. Jesus still loves me. I still love Him. And I'm honest with Him now. And He's giving me rest, despite my idiocy.
That's amazing. That's grace. That's my Jesus.

I can't get no...

"I can tell you're pretty restless," he said to me, from the other side of the world. "I hate that for you."

"I think it's my own fault," I replied. "I could be satisfied if..."

And therein lies the problem. The "if".

I could be satisfied if only....
I were prettier?
I had a boyfriend?
I had more money?
I could make a trip home?
I had more friends?
my students worked harder?
my job were easier?
people were nicer?
there weren't so many rumors?
the power would stay on?
I could take a shower?
I didn't have to be up so early?
I could have a turkey sandwich?

I mean...what's it gonna be today? What conditions am I going to put on my obedience? What limitations will I put on His promises?  What additions will I require from my God who has already given all?

"Rejoice in the Lord, always! I'll say it again- Rejoice!"
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
"I came that (you) may have life, and have it more abundantly."


I'm an idiot for imagining that I could want anything more.
If I'm looking elsewhere, I'll never be satisfied. I'll never find what I'm looking for. I may sometimes settle for cheap imitations of satisfaction. I may be temporarily pleased with my new haircut or today's outfit or a new relationship or even something as simple as a turkey sandwich. But it's fake. It's flawed. I'm worshipping the gift and not the Giver.  Only He can bring me joy. Only He will ever satisfy me.
He is enough.
I am only satisfied in You, Jesus.

Oh, wretched man that I am

I was reading this book called Bruchko with my 9th graders. It's a fantastic read. I highly recommend it. Not very literary, but very spiritually enriching.
So I was reading this book and we were talking in class about the part of the book where Bruce, missionary to a "stone age" South American people group who had never spent any significant amount of time with an outsider without killing them.  Pretty intense stuff.

Bruce is a really super guy, and he spends a lot of time with these people, even after they try to kill him. So after he's been there for a year or so and has learned the language, he starts searching for a way to introduce the gospel. He knows it can't be something that happens in his own timing, so he's really patient. Eventually God opens a door through an old prophecy and an old tradition in their culture, and he's able to tell these 4 guys the story of Jesus. They've never heard of this, and they are absolutely THRILLED beyond belief when they find that God became a man so that they could learn to walk in His path. They wanna know where to find Him so they can follow Him. So Bruce tells them.

"You killed him."
They panic.
"He was buried."
They despair.

All hope is lost. The light at the end of the tunnel is eclipsed. The possibility of being found is gone.
They weep.

Now, because Bruce is a good guy He explains that Jesus was resurrected and that's proof that He's God, and we can still learn to walk in His path. Things end well for the Motilone people, though the process is a long and painful one full of suffering and loss. It ends in hope and life and love.

But I was captivated by this story. I am moved each time I think of it.  It keeps coming back to mind. I can't stop imagining the hopelessness they felt at hearing Bruce's simple statement.
I'm frustrated this week with the essential sin nature of us despicable humans.  We're miserably sinful from top to bottom, inside, out. I've seen so much jealousy and apathy and gossip and slander and vengefulness and selfishness. And I see it all in myself, too. It's just been a long week of feeling like I'm only seeing the worst of people, and it's only bringing out the worst in me.  And I just wanna echo Paul's despairing cry, "O, wretched man that I am!"  Who will save me? Who can rescue me? Who is my deliverer?
I killed Him.
What have I done?

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!! He has made a way!! There is hope, there is peace, there is love, there is rest, there is assurance, there is life. He has found me.
I'm no longer a slave. This body of death has been ripped away, and new life has begun.

Thanks be to God.
He has made a way.
Sin is conquered.
I'm not a slave to this.
I am free.
I am His. He is mine.

Thanks be to God. 

Life...and other mysteries

     I attempt to keep things new and exciting here on the blog, but I have to admit- life is seeming pretty normal these days. It's actually pretty nice. It was a joy to come back to such great friends who love us and support us. School has been pretty normal. If you hadn't heard, I'm teaching 8th-11th grade English, as well as a journalism/newspaper elective. It's a busier year in a lot of ways, but having a year of experience gives me a world of an advantage over last year. I'm enjoying things so far, though I seem to be perpetually behind. I'm told that's pretty much how life works as a teacher. Always something else to do- more to grade, more to prepare. I do feel better prepared though, and I feel like I'm doing a better job in terms of teaching the material I'm supposed to cover this year. On the other hand, I am struggling to find balance- though I want to be a good English teacher, I want just as much to be a great mentor and spiritual influence in my students' lives. Our headmaster pointed out recently that sometimes all we need to do is ASK God to make us a good teacher. That's something I've been working on and thinking about and praying about. I really want to be a good teacher, and I realize that even in something that seems so dependent on me, I am wholly dependent on Christ.
     I've been struggling a lot lately with independence. I really want to be independent. I really want to be worthy. I really want to be a self-made wonder woman. I'm not really sure where this craziness is coming from. I don't know why I feel this need. I'm still working through it. I think typing it here, letting you (whoever you may be) see it, helps me understand it more. I've been trying so hard to be good enough. I'm not sure who I'm trying to impress- I think only myself.  I don't want to be needy. I know I am, but for some reason that makes me feel bad. I do want to be liked. I want to be valued; I want to be loved. I want to be happy. I want to feel fulfilled.
     I realize this is idiotic. I realize I'm helpless. But something in me is still fighting it with all I'm worth. Why can't I be the perfect teacher and the perfect friend and the perfect girlfriend (a real challenge, since I'm single), the perfect friend, the perfect Christian, the perfect employee, the perfect missionary...and I want to do it alone. I don't want help, I don't want weakness, I don't want pain...

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
   
Even when I don't want it to be...
That's grace.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tl219pH6Tpw

there and back again...

Hi friends! It's been a while, I know. There's been a lot of fun stuff happening since I last posted- school ended, we moved, I went home, and then I came back!  My time in the States with my family was indescribably good, so I'm not even going to attempt to tell you about it. Suffice it to say that it was just what I needed. I love my family!  It was great to be around my church again, and the food...oh man...the food.

Anywho, a couple weeks ago I got on that giant plane (with John Legend, mind you) and hopped the giant pond back to this giant continent of people with giant hearts (metaphorically speaking).

It's been beautiful. It's been fun, it's been crazy, it's been tiring, it's been exciting. It's been different, so it's been hard.
I hate change. A lot. I knew when I left that things would be different when I came back. And I knew that about both homes- this one, and the one I've always known. And I knew that change in myself was also inevitable.
I'm different. I will forever be changed. My heart will forever be split between two places on this planet. Africa- Malawi- will always have a part of me.  Summer taught me that.  It seems silly. But the human experience is a strange one.  The already and the not yet...
And that's where I feel trapped.
Stuck somewhere between the already and the not yet... stuck in this place of constant change and confusion and chaos, where everything's spinning and I'm just trying to not get thrown off the merry-go-round (which isn't so merry after all.)
I know change is inevitable. I know I'll never be completely at home anywhere. I know the change that has occurred in me will forever leave me feeling a little lacking. I know that these feelings won't last. I know that this knowledge will last. I know that this post probably doesn't even make sense.
And I know I AM.
not i was. not i will be. not i may be. not i hope to be. not i used to be. not i sometimes might be.
I AM.
Oh, the relief that brings me.
An anchor...
Stability...
Home...
I AM.

An abbreviated reflection on my first year of teaching (with a not-so-hidden agenda)

Today, at 10 AM, I officially finished my first year as a teacher. Okay, sure, I still have to do a little tidying up in my classroom, and a little book counting, and a little reflective writing (in a formal setting, not on the old faithful blog), but I am done with the actual teaching parts. You know- grading, lecturing, telling my students lame jokes.

So today, I am here to tell you a few things, with the not-so-hidden agenda of convincing some wonderful person in the world to come and help me teach next year! So here's my list on why you should come be a teacher in Malawi, Africa at African Bible College Christian Academy. (Also can be read as things I've learned this year.)

1. You'd be serving Jesus as a missionary, fulfilling the Great Commission, stepping out on faith, answering the Call.  Yep, I'm pulling that one out first thing.  The God Card. But seriously- I can think of no better way to increase your faith, deepen your relationship with Christ, lessen your attachment to "stuff", and live radically. Not to mention the opportunity you'd have to impact students from all over the world. And that's just in the classroom and on campus. Getting outside the walls of ABC multiplies those opportunities for growth and impact exponentially.

2. You'd be teaching under the most awesome headmaster I know. Brian Carlisle is an incredible man of God whose judgment and wisdom I deeply admire and respect. And he's fun! I've learned from him and been encouraged by him in a number of ways, and look forward to spending more time with the Carlisle family next year. (Especially with the upcoming addition of baby Nathan!)

3. ABC has the greatest students ever. Seriously have never been around a group of more incredible teens. If I'm honest with you, I'll say that teaching is probably not my life-long calling. I didn't always look forward to getting up and going to school. But I ALWAYS am glad to see my students. Sure there are times it's less exciting than others- (i.e. a Sunday afternoon surprise visit to the Quad..."Miss O, why are you wearing pajamas?) but even then my kids bring a smile to my face.  They're incredible people who are willing to learn. They don't think their teachers are the least cool people on the planet. They are willing to be seen with me in public settings. They willingly give me hugs on the last day before a break. They rarely, if ever, talk back to me. And they've even improved their courtesy laughs when you tell cheesy teacher jokes.

4. Malawi is beautiful.  I've learned as much from this country and culture and people as I have from the "missions" experience. The country is gorgeous and the weather is practically perfect 90% of the year. The people are gracious and love to laugh and dance and sing and share their culture with us azungus. The language is quick and fun, the lifestyle is relaxed and free. It's an experience you (and I) can never forget. As much as I'm looking forward to being in the States for a visit, I know every night I'll long for the African sunset.  I'll miss the cool breeze that blows even on the hottest days.  I'll cry for the smiles and hugs and handshakes I'm leaving behind (because emotions are nothing to be scared of).

5. Obviously, the reason that I know will win you ALL over: You'll get to work alongside ME! Okay, okay...I realize that's not really that big of a deal. But I will tell you that there would be a whole community of people here who would be thrilled to see you come.  Scott Borders, our history teacher, is looking at teaching 5 classes, as well as being head teacher for the upper school next year.  I, Allison, who has not a teaching degree and twitches a little bit at the awkwardness of 12 and 13 year olds, am also at this point planning to teach 5 classes (7th through 11th grade) of English/Literature/Language Arts.  Though the possibility of combining a couple classes is being talked of, it's not a favorable option when I consider the students' best interest.

I'll soon be posting a blog list of things I've experienced this year that I never thought I would. It'll be great. It might convince you even more.
So whoever you are out there...say yes. And if God's not calling you to ABC, but you're realizing right about now that you need to say "yes" to something else He's asking of you- please do so. And if you KNOW someone who might read this and even think about saying yes, will you please please please please please send this to them? Please? Or if you even just want a little more information on this place or the positions available next year... Email me! Facebook me! Leave a comment! I'll find you.

Why your prayers matter...

Sometimes I'm so aware of the emptiness of the people and the commission on my life... I feel it physically...it's heavy. My chest constricts and my breath seems to come reluctantly... I can't help them all... The need is so great.

Making Memories

First, I must apologize for the terribly long silence.  I've tried to blog several times and because of internet, electricity, business, or writers block, this is the first time I've made it this far. But here I am!

Like the last post, I'm ashamed to say that it took me as long as it did to experience what I'm writing about today.  Life at ABC can be draining, to say the least, and for a long time, Aly and I were so busy and tired that we rarely made it outside the walls except for a weekly shopping trip or a trip to grab pizza or Indian food.  In the past few months though, our experiences have altered drastically, and certainly for the better. Aly's experiences have been different from mine, so I am only speaking for myself today.

Two weeks ago, Jan Harper and Mary McCormick, dear friends of mine from the States, arrived here in Malawi. Mary's staying with us until we go home, but Mrs. Jan was only here for a week.  The following day a team of college students from Arizona arrived, and we resolved to join Mary, Mrs. Jan, and the team for as many activities as possible.

Sunday we went to church with the Kysers at an orphanage in Bunda, about 30 minutes away. The Kysers have been getting involved with this orphanage and church, and they were glad to have us all. The church is pastored by an ABC grad and a current student leads music.  We were led to seats of honor in the front of a lovely small building with no real floor and windows (no glass) to let in the light.  It's quite nice, really, and the walls are painted and designed simply but prettily. Fortunately they sang one song we all knew, and we just smiled and clapped along for the rest. The sermon was preached in English and Chichewa, so we kept up pretty well there. After church we lined up for everyone to greet us, and then had lunch with the pastors.  We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the kids who live at the orphanage there and getting tours of the facilities. It was such a blessing, and I'm already looking for ways to get more involved there in the future.

Fortunately, Monday was a holiday, so Aly and I took the day to kidnap Mrs. Jan and Mary.  I drove on my first road trip in Malawi! We made the trip from Lilongwe to Dedza- roughly 2 hours away.  First off, it's a GORGEOUS drive. It was the perfect sort of day for a road trip- not too hot, not too cold- sunny, but with occasional cloud cover. The drive is really pretty decent, with minimal police stops and I made it all the way there and back without hitting a single goat, chicken, child, pedestrian, or bicycler! In Dedza we dropped off our friend Ryan, a peace corps volunteer hitching a ride with us, and then went to have lunch and look at pottery.  Dedza is pretty well known in Malawi for it's beautiful pottery, and there's a lovely little place with a beautiful view of the countryside where you can have lunch outside and then look through the 3-room store full of Malawian pottery!  We all made a few purchases and I got the giraffe coffee cup I had my eye on the last time I was there. It's adorable. The end.

Tuesday we had to work, but in the afternoon we jumped on the bus with the team and rode down the street to the crisis nursery. The Crisis Nursery is a ministry in Lilongwe that goes into nearby villages and takes in babies who are struggling.  Perhaps their mother died or is sick, or for some reason the family is unable to care for the child right now.  The kids stay at crisis for a while, and if all goes well, they can return home within weeks or months.  The women who work here should be sainted. They're incredible. You can tell that they really love the kids and I've watched faces of the babies light up when one of the ladies walks into the room. I'd been to Crisis before, so I found my sweet baby Bridgette (I play favorites) and we had a grand time. She's been at Crisis since she was 2 days old, and she seems to be doing well these days. She loves to cuddle, and has an adorable habit of sticking her tongue out.  However laid back she may be, she's very aware of what goes on around her.  She's a darling.  We've met most of the children there now, and go as often as possible to play with sweethearts like Ulemu, Chikumbutso, Matteo, and Enoch.

Thanks to our wonderfully kind headmaster and head teachers, Aly and I managed to get the day off Wednesday and we went with the team to a village about 20 km from here. There's a young couple from California who were also here and who have come several times to work with this specific village, so they came with us.  They've worked to build a school and a well in the village, and invest time and funds to give the kids an education and make life a little easier for the people there. When we drove up, there was already a group of probably 40 or 50 kids waiting for us.
Now, I've told you we were with a team who had been in Malawi for only a few days at this point. Our friends Ben, Blessings, and Titu were leading this expedition, and they obviously speak Chichewa, but out of the "azungus" Aly and I had the advantage. Our Chichewa is pretty terrible by most standards, but we had more than any of the other white folks (we were clearly more popular than our Malawian friends leading the group) so the children flocked to us.  Within about 45 seconds I had 3 new friends, the oldest and most vocal of whom was a beautiful little girl, about 6 years old, named Memory. As one of the older students, Memory could figure out enough of my Chichewa to communicate basics and help us figure out names of other kids there. For the next 3 hours, she didn't leave my side, despite the little girl Mafa who wouldn't leave my arms. We sang and danced and laughed and colored pictures, and I fell in love with her sweet smile. Every few minutes, Memory would look up at me, grin, and say "mzungu" in the sort of voice you'd use for a baby who's just achieved something new or done something silly. She'd then collapse in giggles. However much I tried to convince her that I wasn't a mzungu (white person), she wasn't falling for it. Periodically when she said this I'd remind her of my name, and she'd call me Allison for about 2 minutes, and then resume the mzungu giggle sequence, to which I would respond in Chichewa, "Where?! Where are the white people?", earning laughter from all the little Malawians who probably now thing all azungus are completely crazy.

The week spent with the team (we did more with them throughout the rest of their time here) was one of the longest weeks I've had in Malawi.  I have never been so busy and so tired here. I was rarely home during the daylight hours, and stayed up late working to finish school prep or cheering on our basketball boys in their last few games before the summer. But I would venture to say it's also the most fulfilled I've felt since arriving. What is about serving that brings so much joy?  Isn't our God great?  He arranged it so that the most tiring and draining work is the most wonderful.  The more we pour out, the more He pours into us.  These are lessons we all learn at different times in our lives, but I guess you just expect to feel that way on the mission field.  I've been missing out.  Though I do derive great joy and fulfillment from teaching my students and loving them, Christ revealed to me that I wasn't truly serving Him with everything.  I've been selfish with my time.  Yes, I've made a big transition in the past year, and no, nothing about my life right now is ideal or how I imagined it would be.  Every day is still a struggle in some ways, but every day is also a blessing, and I've been missing out on so many blessings (and so many Memories) by refusing to be further inconvenienced. Despite everything, ABC had become a comfort zone, and I didn't want to leave it. But God pushed me out again and reminded me what it felt like to fall, exhausted, into His loving arms every night.  It wasn't an easy lesson, and it certainly involved some tears and some frustration.
And it all started with a little girl named Memory who held my hand and loved me shamelessly and reminded me what it's like to be carefree and completely trusting in a big, strange, scary world.

Watching the team do a skit

Chatting with Mrs. Jan- probably trying to figure out how to
say something in Chichewa

Holding hands with Memory and watching the parachute games!

New Things!

This week I had a new experience. I'm sad to say it took me this long, but yesterday I willingly subjected myself to the mode of transportation known here as "minibus".

You see, most of Malawi doesn't own a car, and right now, even those who do are hard pressed to find petrol (gas) to make that car go.  We are no exception to this rule, so yesterday, when Michelle mentioned going to the chitinge market, I was a bit confused as to how this was going to happen. However, when I realized minibus was the transportation of choice for the day, I decided I would go along.  Michelle's parents are visiting from the US, and I figured if we could all have the new experience at once it might be more fun.

So, here's the process:
1. Walk to the front gate and wait.
2. Flag down a minibus going the correct direction. Now, this sounds easy, but ya gotta know just how to do this. There's a special technique that involves flapping your hand around like a dying fish. It's great. The buses carry signs in the front that tell you what area they're travelling to, so that's how you figure out which one to take.
3. Decide if YOU think there's actually room for you in the bus. Let me explain: These look like your typical 15-passenger church bus type thing from back home. Fairview folks, picture the old tan van. Except white. And they're about that old, too. These are in various states of disrepair, and the amount of black smoke coming out of the tailpipe is irrelevant. Now, when you ask a Malawian how many people fit in this bus, they tell you between 18 and 21. I am here to say, we beat that. 21 adults and 2 children, one of the adults (Michelle's dad) being 7 feet tall.
4. Squish into a seat with your new best friend!
5. Pay the "conductor" somewhere between 100 and 200 kwacha, depending on how naive you look and how much petrol is in the country.
6. Say a magical phrase in Chichewa that convinces the conductor to tell the driver to stop and let you off in the correct place!

Seriously, in the past I was not super thrilled about this concept, but it was much less terrifying than I anticipated. I actually kinda enjoyed it. However, I did have wonderful Malawian friends with me who knew all the magic words to say to make things go smoothly. I think I'd be a little more intimidated alone.
In fact, we had great plans of doing the whole thing over again today, but after a 30 minute wait with no luck finding a bus with vacant seats, we gave up. Clearly I'm still very American- but an American with one more Malawian experience under her belt!

Story Time: The Cracked Pot

     Once upon a time, a water bearer in Malawi had to large pots. One hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house. The cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house.  Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.  But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.  "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."
     "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
     "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house.  Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.
     The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
     Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half of its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.
   The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the  path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."
-a Malawian folk tale, told to me by a friend

Amazing, isn't it, how God takes our imperfections and works them for His purpose and glory?  Embrace the beauty that comes with being flawed.

homesickness

     Seven months ago yesterday, I left my home and got on a plane to go to Africa.  Prior to this trip, the longest I'd been away from home was the 10 weeks I spent in Chicago doing summer missions. There were times I felt homesick in Chicago, but the circumstances were different, I had reliable internet, and there was no time difference.  My parents will tell you, though, that I've never been one to get homesick. I think it probably disappointed them a bit when I was younger. I'd show up after children's camp and their excited inquiries of "Did you miss us?!" were met with, "nope!"  As I got older, I learned to amend that answer to "of course!" to assure my poor parents of my need for them.  And in reality, I was always glad to see them when I returned from any trip.  However, they raised me as an independent first child, and as a result I've always enjoyed getting away from home and exercising some of that independence.  For some reason, I've just never been very attached to home. Something in me longed for a new and different place.  I think this desire has, at times, manifested in a disdain for my hometown, especially, but looking back, perhaps that was just a symptom.  I think I've always known that God had somewhere else for me- that Columbus wasn't really my home.

     Having said all this, I must admit: after 7 months in Malawi, I can honestly say that I've experienced homesickness in a way I never had before. But it's mixed with this very real love I have for the place that I am living.  A friend of mine who is studying in London said recently that his homesickness is much more related to people than home itself- that we should call it "people-sick" instead. Admittedly, that sounds quite odd, but I'm realizing more and more how true it is. I don't really miss my house and my stuff back home. In fact, thinking about how big and open my house is makes me a little uncomfortable. But I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss certain foods. I miss the drive from Clinton to Columbus. But those last two are beside the point, I guess.

     Right about now you are probably wondering to yourself, "Well, what IS the point, Allison? Surely you're not just stating the obvious reality of homesickness."  And you would be correct. So here's the point: (in a roundabout way, of course.)

     Last night I dreamt about going home.  I saw my mom's face and talked to her and was really excited because I had so desperately missed her.  I hugged my dad.  It was great.  Needless to say I was a little disappointed this morning when I woke up.  But you learn that things like that happen, and you just kinda move on. But then, in church today we sang "How Great Thou Art." The last stanza says,
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
and take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
and there proclaim, 'My God, how great Thou art!'

Singing these words, for the first time in my life, I glimpsed what it meant to be homesick for Heaven.  Having experienced the longing here for what I cannot tangibly have right now, I saw the comparison in a new light. Heaven. Home. My real home. The home for which I will always be homesick. And it occurred to me that I can love this Earth and the things and people on it in a very real way. I can feel the attachments here and enjoy being where God has put me, because He has work for me now here, in Malawi, and eventually in some other place.  But I will never be finally home until I'm with Him. That as much as I long to see my family, or even the physical place of Mississippi, my soul longs infinitely more to finally find it's rest with it's Creator and Lover.  This longing is good. It's natural.  It's inevitable.  Heaven- not the physical place, if there is such a thing- but the condition of being forever with my Savior, face to face, veil removed....
Oh, what joy shall fill my heart!  Then I shall bow in humble adoration and there proclaim, "My God! How GREAT Thou art!"

School Days

Hi guys! Someone mentioned wanting to know more about school around here, so I thought I'd dedicate a post to talking about academy life.  For those of you who might not know, I teach 8th, 9th, and 10th grade language arts and literature at African Bible College Christian Academy.  My day starts at 7 and ends at 2:30. The upper school has the longest day- the little kids get out anywhere from noon (Kindergarten and Reception) to 1:15 (6th grade). In the past, the upper school day has ended at 1:30, but this year they decided to extend they day for an additional period, so we now finish at 2:20. The decision to add a 10th grade class is also new, so I'm the first to teach 10th grade World Lit around here. I have to admit, 10th grade is probably the easiest for me to teach. I think this is a fantastic age where students are starting to be old enough to think on higher levels and make some larger connections. I can lecture without losing them entirely, but I can also leave them to do a lot of independent work, and they're totally capable.

My 10th graders always exceed my expectations. They're a really brilliant class of 12 students: 6 guys, 6 girls. We've gained and lost a few over the past semester, but at this point, the guys are Malawian, American, and Norwegian. The girls are a bit more varied- 2 girls are American but have lived in Ecuador most of their lives, 1 is ethnically part Indian, but has lived here most of here life. 1 is American, 1 is Portuguese, and 1 is Norwegian. I think that covers everyone. All this to say- they're a very diverse class. But they get along splendidly. So far we've read Hemmingway's The Old Man and the Sea, where I asked them to think of it as an allegory and write a paper explaining the symbols. They wrote their own journey stories for me, where the main character starts in one place and ends in another (these were quite entertaining), and then we moved on to Lord of the Flies. Overall, they really enjoyed this book.  We talked a lot in this about fear and the nature of man. Are humans inherently evil? What is the author trying to say with this book? Do you agree with him or disagree? The class had a lot of opinions to share on these subjects, and I really enjoyed thinking through it all with them. We then moved on and did a poetry unit, which was fantastic.  90% of the class cared very little for poetry at the beginning of the unit, but by the end, I think they all had a new appreciation for it.  I probably should've read more poetry with them, but I really wanted to get them writing, so we focused a lot on form and style in their own poetry.  I gave it to them as a way to explore their own personal emotions and thoughts. Told them this was a fantastic and creative way to really reflect on what they're thinking and feeling. They all presented final portfolios after Christmas break and I was blown away. I have a class full of poets! We're now reading The Screwtape Letters, which is proving to be a challenge, but is forcing them to stretch themselves a little and to reflect on their own spirituality, which is a neat thing for this age.  One of my students is especially quizzical and is always questioning and challenging what Lewis has to say, which makes for some good class discussion. So that's 10th grade.

My 9th grade class is perhaps even more diverse, with students from Malawi, America, China, Korea, Portugal, Lebanon, and South Africa. This is probably my most diverse class academically, as well. Although they're all very bright, the levels of English vary in this class, which makes things more difficult at times. We've also had 3 students drop out since the beginning of the year, which has been kinda tough. We really miss those guys. This started as my largest class, but is now down to 11 students. My challenge with this class is simply keeping them motivated. They're great kids with a lot of potential, but they tend to want to do the bare minimum. (Of course, I know nothing about that.) It took me a while to warm up to this group, but we've all gotten to know each other now, and we get along grandly. We started the year reading Bruchko, and then moved to Peace Child.  Both of these novels are missionary autobiographies, and really are excellent stories of faith.  This class is less willing to get into deep spiritual discussion, but we were able to really see the gospel and admire the faith of some brave men in those stories. Considering this is also probably my most diverse class in terms of religion, that was a neat experience. Our last book of the first semester was Jules Verne's Around the World in 80 Days.  I wasn't sure what my students would think of it, but they really enjoyed the book- perhaps simply because it was so very different than the previous two they'd read. We had a lot of fun with this book. Right now we're working on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, which quite frankly, is hilarious. These kiddos aren't overly fond of Shakespeare, but they LOVE laughing at Romeo. They've been highly amused by his declarations of love for Rosaline which were so quickly cut short by his adoration of Juliet. As a side note, they also find it highly amusing to try and set me up with any single men they know. 23 is so old, don't ya know? Obviously I need a husband.

My 8th grade class is made up of 7 girls. 1 from Malawi, 1 from SA, 1 from New Zealand, 1 from Zambia, 1 from America, and 1 who is truly African-American. . Ethnically, they've got a bit of everything, but in reality, most of them have lived here longer than anywhere else, so they have a lot in common.  Now, I have to say, 13 year old girls are not my specialty. This class is a real challenge for me, simply because of their age.  They're great individuals with a lot of excitement and potential. They're smart and beautiful, and I really do love them. I can't wait to see how they each grow up.  I started the year off with The Giver, which is a fantastic book. It's my favorite, and I was excited to read it again with these girls. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, they loved it, and aced the test on it. I was proud of them. :) We then read Treasure Island, which was tough for them.  It's a boyish book, and it had a lot of vocabulary that was unfamiliar to them. We made it through it, though, and they all took something away from the book.  Next on the list was A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Again, not an easy read. They did really well with it though, and I think they mostly enjoyed the story.  Because I'm awesome, we watched A Muppets Christmas Carol when we finished reading the book. They weren't overly impressed with the musical nature of the Muppets, but they enjoyed the story and I think the story stuck with them a little better after actually seeing it.  We focus a lot on grammar in this class, because 7th grade somehow missed out on getting a grammar curriculum.  The girls would say it was the bane of their existence, if they knew what that meant. Perhaps I'll teach them that phrase today. As much as they dislike it, though, I'm seeing progress. I encourage you to pray especially for this class's relational dynamics. If you know any 13 year old girls, you know that it's just a hard place to be. These girls are learning a lot about the world and each other, as well as learning about themselves, and that puts a lot of strain on their friendships.

So there ya go! There's a little about my life as an ABCCA teacher. Hope you enjoyed it! 

10 things I no longer find strange

1. Fuel Queues- In the past two weeks the fuel crisis lessened and you could actually drive up to a gas station and get fuel in your car sometimes. Without waiting for hours! It kinda freaked us all out a little bit. We've gotten so used to seeing lines all down the streets and sitting around in those for hours, that we don't really know how to react when they're gone. I hear they're coming back though, which is oddly reassuring. Have I mentioned I don't like change?

2. Using the word "queue"- Isn't that a fun word? You should type it, or spell it out loud to yourself. Q-U-E-U-E. ha! Excellent! I never used this word until I came here. I probably didn't know how to spell it, and it certainly was not a part of my daily vocabulary. Here, however, it's not unusual to chat about "queueing up" or "sitting in a queue". No longer strange.

3. Buying produce on the side of the road- We never buy bananas at the market. We always just stop on the side of the road. Apparently this selling is illegal and is the source of much turmoil in Malawi lately, but let's just face it: the market is much more chaotic than the guy at the corner of Chipiku or the dude sitting on the turn off for ABC. Speaking of shopping:

4. Shopping trips that take all afternoon and involve no less than 5 locations-  When you shop in Malawi, you go where things are cheapest. Cereal can cost up to 3 or 4 dollars more at Foodworths than at Chipiku. But cheese and yogurt and cheapest and taste best from Foodworths. (And they have these delicious fresh rolls...that's why Aly and I really go.) Chipiku has the cheapest of most things, but it's small and dark and crowded. But it's a good place to fill your crate with cokes. Shop Rite has produce if you're skipping the market, but the market is cheapest. And I absolutely hate Shop Rite. Game and Spar are basically like walking into Wal Mart or Kroger, but you pay for it. Nyama has good meat and bread, and sometimes eggs. But lately we've been getting as much as possible from City Supermarket, which is new and very close by. After all, we are in a fuel crisis!

5. The market-  It really is nothing weird to drive up, park on the side of the road next to the dumpster, and turn down the man who walks up selling bootleg movies, mops, and flashlight bulbs. I also say no to the dozens of boys chasing me asking if i'd like to buy a plastic bag. We also politely decline all the shouts of "sista! potatoes? onions? mangos? carrots?" as we walk to our favorite vegetable guy and tell him what we need, pay less than 6 bucks for it all, and allow our favorite bag boy to carry it back to our car. We then tip him and leave! Very routine.

6. Outages- The lack of water, electricity, or just most of the electricity is no longer odd. We have had water a lot lately, but sometimes there's no hot water, or sometimes it just goes out altogether. That also makes bathing less than 3 times a week fairly normal. But hey...this is Africa! :) I've told you about the power outages. Right now we have only a little power. We're not sure what that's all about. They call it a brown-out, because everything has that sepia sort of tone, since the lights are really dim. Fortunately we can still charge phones and computers even in a brown out. However, our fridge doesn't appreciate it. But again...all of this is very normal. We went for a couple weeks with VERY few outages, and we all were kinda freaked out. It just wasn't right!

7. Ants- They're still here. I still eat them. They still crawl on me. They still search for moisture. I basically ignore them now. I only kill them if they're on me or if they're crawling across the computer screen.

8. Carrying HUGE bundles of currency- Kwacha is what the money is called here in Malawi.  The national exchange rate is something like 167K to 1 USD. The black market exchange rate goes as far up as 350MK to 1 USD. So anywhere you go, you take a few thousand kwacha. It's recommended that you keep at least 5000K on you in case you get pulled over, because that's the most common police fine (yes, you pay on the spot.) I once left the house with 265,000K on me. (We were going to buy plane tickets.) Add to this knowledge the fact that the largest bill is 500K, and you can imagine how huge the stack of money I had was. Good times...

9. Driving on the left side of the road, on the right side of the car- Only once since I started driving have I royally screwed this up, and that was at 3 am when someone called and woke me up to go sit in a fuel queue. I feel like that's excusable. I only drove on the wrong side for like 10 seconds. And there was not really any traffic. One of my biggest fears about going home in July is that I'll be unable to navigate the roundabout leaving the Jackson airport because it goes the opposite direction than these. Yes, I realize that's petty, but it's something I think about, okay? Major intersections here are always roundabouts, and they go clockwise. In the US you rarely encounter roundabouts and the go counterclockwise and I really just think I'll panic going through the one at the airport! (I also no longer find roundabouts strange, if you didn't guess.)

10. Altering lesson plans because the copier won't work- Our copier at school has more problems than the country of Malawi, I think. Okay...exaggeration. But only kinda. Today we had to take everyone's copying needs down the street to a print shop so that teachers could get what they needed for class. I have too few grammar books in one of my classes, so I have to copy pages for some of my students before we can move on to the next unit, and if the power is out, or my directions are misunderstood, or the copier simply refuses to copy, we just find something else to do for the day. This has also led to a few changes in test formats, an all sorts of similar things. Hooray for flexibility! And no longer being surprised.

Dreaming...

   Today is John Chilembwe day in Malawi. The man is considered a martyr for the cause of equality and independence in Malawi. Having read up a little, I am glad that this man refused to accept the oppression of colonialists, but I must say, I have more respect than ever for Martin Luther King, Jr.
     See, today is Martin Luther King, Jr day in the States. I gotta admit, growing up this just meant a day out of school for me, which was something I appreciated. Sure I thought his speeches were kinda cool, and I was real sad that he died, but that was about as far as it went. I now see this man as a role model. I'm not saying he lived some perfect life- I'm sure a lot of you may disagree with some things he said. I'm not certain how his theology aligns with yours. Blah, blah, blah.
      But here's the thing- the man was incredible. He knew that skin color didn't determine anything about an individual, and he understood that violence was not the way to share that truth. He believed in the essential humanity of each of us, regardless of our outward appearance. He sowed love and understanding and hope.
     As a Caucasian American girl who grew up in the South and is now living in Africa, I've seen a lot. I've seen racism- humanity at its worst.  I've felt racism. I've been the minority, I've been the majority. I've harbored prejudice, and I've felt prejudiced against. And what I've discovered is that we all have our faults, and we all are sometimes scared of what we don't understand.  But education should cultivate understanding and the Holy Spirit should cultivate selfless love.
     The battle MLK gave his life fighting still rages in a lot of places, and it hurts me deeply. It breaks my heart to pieces to see friends, family, or strangers base their idea of a person on the individual's skin color. So today, I encourage you to look inwards. Examine your heart for any of the devilish fiend that is prejudice, and pray that you'll see through Heavenly eyes. After all, where man looks at outward appearance, God looks at the heart. Jesus didn't give His life to create a Kingdom divided by skin color. The Bride He gave himself for is one of many colors, languages, and cultures.
     I beg you, at some point in your life, to spend time in a place where YOU are the minority. I did, and it changed my life. So, my brothers and sisters, let's put aside our stupidity and learn to see ourselves as one tiny part of this beautiful, diverse, colorful creation. Learn to love.

A few Martin Luther King, Jr quotations I enjoyed:
"I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. . . that one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. "


“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 


“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. . . The day we see the truth and cease to speak is the day we begin to die.” 


“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” 


“An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” 

Unhindered

I think I mentioned at some point that I was doing a read through the Bible in 90 days plan...well, 90 days turned into...more than 90 days. I slacked off for a while (surprise) but I've picked back up in Chronicles and got to read the second account of the journey of the Arc of the Covenant to Jerusalem. So here's the story: David and his buddies are bringing the arc back home to rest with the Israelites, but they disobey the guidelines Moses set out for transporting it. As a result, the arc almost falls and this guy named Uzzah reaches out to steady it and when he touches it, God strikes him dead. No one was ever supposed to touch the arc- it was the physical representation of the presence of God, and therefore was most holy. So David panics a little bit at the realization of what he's bringing home and decides to leave the arc residing on the outskirts with this guy named Obed-edom for a while. Obed's family is blessed as a result, and David later decides to do things right and bring the arc into Jerusalem. This is a HUGE deal. There's a giant celebration and parade sort of deal with sacrifices being made, and music being played. And then there's David...

See, this is possibly my favorite story in the whole Bible. David himself just intrigues me on so many levels. I've often thought that if I have a son someday, I hope he'll be like David. Sure, the man made mistakes. Big ones. Ones that humanity wouldn't be prone to forgive. But even with all of that, David's considered a man after God's own heart. David LOVES the Lord. This love prompts him to do some things that seem unreasonable. I could cite them, but if you're curious just go check out 2 Samuel and 1 Chronicles. His commitment to the God who chose him to be king is inspiring to me.
So, the arc is coming into the city and there's a giant celebratory parade, and David- David wears a simple linen robe, much like that of the priests. No kingly garments. No jewels and crowns and fancy robes for the occasion. See, David knows this isn't about him. David's not trying to be something special. He's not trying to take the spotlight. David's caught up in the pure ecstasy of what this means. The presence of GOD- YHWH- is coming to dwell with him. He's prepared himself for this- He knew it was coming. He took the time to think this out and realized he should humble himself in anticipation. But now- in the moment- he's overwhelmed! It's just too much! The joy is bigger than He imagined, the realization so much greater than he could have foreseen.  The Spirit of the Living God is with him, and he cannot contain his joy. 

"And David danced before the LORD with all his might."

Oh, that I would rejoice this greatly in the presence of my King- my Savior. Oh, that I would be completely unhindered in my worship- that I would encounter the reality of the Living God in my life and daily dance with all my might at his renewed mercies each morning. That I would put aside my mistakes, let go of my shame, and bask in His forgiveness and love. That I would worship freely in such a way that it makes little of me and much of my Lord, that I would be a living testament to the joy and freedom and life found in the Creator God.  

Cape Town Adventures

     I believe I mentioned in a previous post that Aly and I were planning to spend a week in Cape Town after Christmas.  Well, these plans certainly came to fruition and on December 27th our friend Michelle drove us to the airport and we began our journey!

    On our first flight, I managed to somehow secure an entire row to myself. There were three seats and I was the only one there. It was pretty excellent. Aside from that little blessing, there was also CHEESE on this flight. SA airlines apparently serve a meal on basically every flight. I wasn't overly hungry, but I decided to see what airline food was like in Africa, and was overjoyed to see a nice little block of cheese on my tray. Now, you can get cheese in Malawi, but generally it's quite expensive and relatively tasteless. I'm not sure how or why this is true, but it is. So- first thrill of our short venture back into the "Western world": Cheese!

     The rest of our day went very smoothly and we found ourselves being shuttled from the airport to our hotel by a wonderfully entertaining little bus company we stumbled upon and arrived at our hotel with no problems! We were pretty tired from a day of travel, so we basically stumbled into our 11th floor room of the Capetonian Hotel (google it, Dad...it was very safe!), turned the AC as cold as we could bear, and snuggled into bed. 

   Our hotel had a beautiful complementary breakfast each morning, and a shuttle every hour to the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, which is the location of a GIGANTIC mall- two stories, various restaurants and a food court, several department stores, a grocery store, and 2 movie theatres. Needless to say, we took advantage of this and spent our first day shopping at the mall and at the surrounding shops that were a little more boutique-esque or incredibly touristy. We resolved not to buy anything that first day, but (I'm sure this will come as no surprise) our resolve was weakened by the discovery of a Build-A-Bear Workshop! So we made adorable little bears and gave them South Africa shirts, and they now enjoy a position of honor on our beds in Malawi. The other highlight of this day was the discovery of McDonalds and Subway in the mall. We ate at one of these two restaurants every day for the rest of the week. 

    We decided to do a bus tour of Cape Town that went through the city, up to Table Mountain, and down to the beach. This was an excellent choice.  Let me just say- Cape Town hit the geographical jackpot. It's incredible. The beauty is just beyond belief. Table mountain has recently been declared a natural wonder of the world, and it's majesty certainly proves that this position is merited. It's surrounded by other mountains as well, and the whole scene just takes your breath away. Additionally, the city has some of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen! The water is clearest blue (and from what I understand, frigid!), and the beach has a combination of sands and rocks that seems perfect. Apparently all the South African celebrities hit up the clubs along the beachfront, as do various American and European stars. We just enjoyed the beauty from the bus. We took pictures, but I'm afraid they really don't even come close to the rapture of actually seeing this place in person. The tour also took us through some historic parts of town, such as the renowned District 6, which was actively involved in opposing apartheid and was later demolished by the government. Much of it is still in ruins, but what has been restored stands as a testimony to the strong will of the citizens of this area and the ruins remind us of the deathly and destructive nature of racism. 

    The other big event for us during the week was the opportunity to see Phantom of the Opera performed. It was absolutely fantastic. Many of the cast had studied in Cape Town, and most were South African.  They were fantastic. I told Aly that the Phantom was my first love, and always will be. I saw the play performed in Birmingham when I was in 6th grade, and have loved the story ever since. I still firmly believe that Christine made a mistake in choosing that pretty boy Raoul.  But I digress...  The point is- this was definitely a highlight of the week- I absolutely recommend it and thoroughly enjoyed it. 

    The rest of our week was spent in various ways- watching movies, shopping, wandering the streets. Aly got a haircut, we got our nails done, we bought some fun jewelry and clothes, and we enjoyed all of it. As a side note- we watched The Help while we were there, which was really interesting. Fantastic movie, for sure. It was strange sitting in a theater in Cape Town watching Jackson, MS on the screen. It was also interesting looking at the movie in light of apartheid and all that did to the country of SA.
    Overall, our trip was fantastic. We enjoyed our time there and enjoyed the beautiful weather. Simple comforts we would've taken for granted in the U.S. were all of a sudden luxuries. Air conditioning, drinkable tap water, no power outages, traffic lights, road signs, shopping malls, television, and fast food...ahh...such wonderful things! At the end of the week, though, we were glad to come home to Lilongwe.  It's nice to be with friends again, to speak at least a tiny bit of the language, and to enjoy the familiarity of our current home. Thanks very much to those of you who were praying for safety and who are still praying for us as we're here. We appreciate it and need it every day. Happiest of new years to you and yours, and thank you for sharing in this journey!