"In PNG, Plan A rarely happens" - the Director

A Sequel to, Stressed Out!

Two weeks ago, I sat down with my coach and the Director of Support Services from Papua New Guinea. We were hoping to pin down some details about the trip, like when it was going to be.
The complication in pinning that down was that the Branch needed to figure out where it was acceptable to send an unmarried man and woman into the jungle to get some village living without there being a scandal!
"It's a shame," said the Director, "that you're coming before you get married. It'd be so much easier if it were after."
"Right," I said, "but PBT won't let us leave the country for a year after we get married."
"That's not the rule!" she exclaimed. "You can't ALLOCATE for a year after you get married."
(Here's the difference: an exploratory trip is a visit. Allocating is a move. i.e "We can take an exploratory trip to your mother's house, but we are NOT allocating there!" short-term vs long-term)
And suddenly like a tornado of beautiful lights and colors and sounds, I saw the wedding invitations I still had to finish and TIME to do so. I saw the apartment my husband and I would live in and TIME to set it up. I saw the 30% of the funds needed for this trip and TIME to raise it. I saw my wedding in May and TIME to enjoy it. I saw a glimpse of dealing with reverse culture shock 2 weeks before my wedding and it vanished!

Now let me tell you the other ways in which this plan is beautiful and clearly from the Lord.
When we came to this meeting, no one had even considered pushing this trip back. It was prayed at the beginning that we would let the Spirit fill us in this conversation and it appears that He did.
My coach has seen my trip get pushed back a number of times, as you my supporters have, and he knows I DO NOT handle it well. So he took a deep breath before he suggested pushing it back and braced himself for me to bite off his head.
But I didn't. For the first time ever, I was filled with peace instead of turmoil at the suggestion. The whole drive from VA to TX I was thinking about how foolish this trip was, packed so closely to my wedding, but I believed that it was now or a year from May. And I didn't want to wait that long, but it was going to be so stressful to go now...
So the Lord had been working on my heart to accept this suggestion, and that had my coach pretty much convinced that this must from God.

So we decided to part until the next week and see what praying about the idea brought us to. And upon reconvening everyone was more sure than ever that this was a good plan.
(Although the Director of the Branch proposed that if it pushed back allocating why not just skip the exploratory trip and wait to allocate. But I nipped off that idea right there!)

So the new plan is to go for a 60 day period sometime between Aug and Nov. When the Director figures out which village living scenario would be best for the non-scandalous married couple, those dates will be pinned down.

Peace has filled my fiance and me.
Jacob's found a job, I'm looking for an apartment.
And peace abides.

Stressed out!

This blog is not a misnomer.
I am stressed!

There are a number of things that I need to remain a healthy happy human being that other people would not rather stab their eye out than be around.
That is:
8 hours of sleep a night (min)
A nap at some point (for best results mid-day)
A shower and a cup of coffee first thing in the morning
Elizabeth time
a relatively clean working space
a sense of productivity

The things I have in my life right now:
Coffee.
At some point in the day, a shower.
Sometimes, Elizabeth time.

And when we add my lack of important thing I need to the other things in my life, namely:
I have $3000 of $10,000 I need by Jan. (One month from now)
My wedding in May
My apartment that I will need to live in with my new husband, which I don't have.
The project I'm supposed to be working on for Papua New Guinea that I haven't had the time to touch in months due to the raising of supporters and the wedding planning.

So my schedule is: Feb-Apr go to PNG, Apr- drive to VA for Bridal shower, drive to tx to get and set up apartment, May 1st- drive to VA to finish wedding stuff, May 19th - get married, May 22nd drive to apartment in TX,June 9th - Dallas wedding reception. Busy, huh?

So I've been trying to do those things that help me relieve stress: being artsy.
Presently I'm knitting earwarmers and there's a piece of furniture that I found for free on the back porch of the House of Awesome that I'm in the process of refurbishing. And i'm trying very hard to finish one of these before I start on another project. Artsy is addicting.
And when I'm working on these things: I feel AWESOME!
And when I stop working on these things: I feel poopy!
Because these things have done nothing to cure the things that are stressing me out! They've just taken me to my happy place for a while. (Fun Fact: Elizabeth's happy place is I-264 in Hampton Roads)

But coming news, coming changes, might bring my to-do list to a manageable level and wipe my stress away!
Thank God, the Opener of Unnoticed Doors!
Stay tuned!

(Also, pray for me)


This is my bedroom (aka: the couch in the living room)

Excuse me, Do you know where I could find Waldo?

My name is Elizabeth Vahey. And I am a missionary.
Presently, my job is to find people to pay my salary and work expenses. And they're not easy to find. Think "Where's Waldo?" but instead of just looking for a striped shirt, you have to sit and dialogue with every person on the page, first to see if they are Waldo, then to see if they know where (another) waldo is. This is a full-time job! Best part? It's only half of my job! A full-time job that's half of my actual job and that I hate.
It is not fun asking people you know for money! You don't want to make them feel awkward. And if they DO feel awkward, then you will feel awkward too. And it's not easy asking people you don't know for money, because they don't even care enough about you to listen to you! And this is all understandable... but it just makes my job a little more than stressful.
But I have to preserve through this part, because the other part is coming.
The part where I go to Papua New Guinea. The part where I live life with the nationals. Incarnational ministry as Jesus demonstrated for us. The part where I sit with them in the morning and evening, studying the Word of God, turning it into their language, showing them that Jesus is bigger than their ancestors spirits, that Jesus is bigger than the Sanguma man who casts spells on people, that they can be free!
I get to live my life in constant adventure as I do frontline work for the Kingdom of Heaven.
And the stress of partnership development will not deter me from that!

Thank you, to all the Waldo's I've found and to all those who have led me to a Waldo. Thank you for seeing the world with Kingdom vision. Thank you for making sacrifices in you life for the sake of the lost in Papua New Guinea. Thank you for seeing that this is an issue of salvation. Thank you for putting the opportunity for salvation of generations above small comforts in your own life. I know that it's a sacrifice. I myself live that sacrifice. I understand. And thank you.

The Story

Foreword:
Jacob and I had committed to getting married before the ring, so I expected him to just give me the ring when it came. The whole idea behind a proposal is you propose the idea of being married to your significant other. Which Jacob and I had already done. So really the only part missing was the ring. Give me that and I'm fine. No need for a big hullabaloo!
"But there has to be a story! People are going to ask what the story is!!! You can't just say, 'Oh, he just gave it to me'!"
(Jacob hasn't come to see yet how I can make the arrival of UPS a thrilling tale indeed (especially when the USPS comes first bearing false hope and devastation))
But he insisted. So now, my dear friends, I have for you a story.

Chapter One:
Errands in the morning, class, immediately followed by a lunch meeting. I was ready for nap time. But this was Date Night and we had plans to go to the Botanical Gardens. So walking back to the House of Awesome, where I live, (no really, that's what they call it and what it is known as), I asked when we'd be leaving. "I think we'll go to the Gardens after dinner..." he said.
After dinner? Who goes to the Botantical Gardens after dinner? Well I guess the sun doesn't set til 8 ish... ok... Score! Nap time!
"Well, then I guess we should go our separate ways for now?" I asked. We exchanged our goodbyes and went home.

Chapter Two:
At 3:30, I was awoken from my nap by the light buzzing of my cell phone. "The Botanical Gardens closes at 5. We need to go now if we want to make it"
"OK" I groggily typed.
After waking up a bit more fully, I realized we wouldn't even have an hour at the Gardens, so I suggested to Jacob we save our tickets for another day, because we might not see everything we want to see in such a short time. Jacob replied, "If there's something you don't get a chance to see, I'll take you back."
It was a nice firm, don't-argue-with-me answer. I like such answers. Firm. I reward firm answers with not arguing (...sometimes).
In the car and on our way, we find that crazy thing that happens happening to us. You're on a four lane interstate where the speed limit is 70 and there's no construction or accidents and yet EVERYONE is STOPPED!
Jacob's frustrated because we are totally NOT getting there in time and I'm frustrated because we're in rush hour traffic and Jacob's not an assertive driver (some call it aggressive, I call it assertive!) which, in Dallas, is a requirement for driving. They even test for it when distributing licenses! (not really. that was an exaggeration.)
But the chapter ends with much frustration.

Chapter Three:
So instead of the Gardens, we decide to go the nice little Italian restaurant Jacob found on the internet. (If red flags aren't going up, they should be). Lover's Pizza and Pasta on Lovers Ln. The picture in my head is a place with ambient lighting, reds and purples for decor, a portrait of Lady and the Tramp eating spaghetti on the wall. Not the dingy dirty little joint we found ourselves in. I, however, was having a delightful time as I composed the article I would've written on this place should I have been a restaurant critic instead of a Bible Translator.
After dinner, we found a place to hang out and play cards, where we stayed for two hours.
We tried to find something else to do but eventually gave up and went back to the House of Awesome to watch an episode of Fringe (a TV series I highly recommend).

Chapter Four:
After an episode, I asked Jacob if he'd like to watch another, or go home as it was getting a little late.
"Walk me outside," he replied.
And when we found ourselves on the doorstep, Jacob pulled a red, leather-bound book with gold filigree from his bag. The cover read Our Story Begins. Down on one knee, he opened the hollowed out book to reveal my diamond ring.
I said yes!

So date night last week was a trip to the zoo on half-price day! Total win!
And one of our first stops was the reptile house, air-conditioned as we waited for the heat of the day to pass before venturing out in the Savannah exhibit.
Now, I'm very much a Where's-Waldo reptile house guest. Some people like to read the descriptions and such. Not me. The only time that I'll read a description is if the creature is so odd looking an explanation is necessary.
Well we reached this one snake, in clear view, lazily draped over the limb of an assortment of branches in a wide circle. A brilliant green. It was so pretty, and bold, not hiding in a corner,that I found my eyes wandering to the description. Both Jacob and I read it at the same time and instinctively jumped back from the snake.
Important for training in PBT is taking the required classes but just as important, if not more so is listening to the stories of seasoned missionaries and learning from them. And we had both listened to enough stories to have it ingrained in us that when you see this snake you need to reverse in haste. The Green Mamba!!!!
Of course, after that initial instinctive retreat we approached the glass in defiance and "bravery".
Also, on our travels through the reptile house we met the Black Mamba, and the Death Adder.
The Mamba's are intensely venomous snakes from Africa, while the Death Adder is affectionately called the 5-step Killer in the jungles of Papua New Guinea. And regretfully, these snakes ARE NOT more afraid of you than you are of them. They will hunt you down and nibble on your toes. Then you may take 5 more steps and that is all.
This bloke right here is the Death Adder. He's just angry looking...

It's Not a Cult! ...I think ...pretty sure...

Names say a lot about a place. And sometimes, at first glance, they might scream "cult!"
Example? The Village.
Creepy...
But really, Jacob and I were getting desperate. We had gone to a fair handful of churches in the area and had met churches that didn't want to use the Bible because some people listening may not believe the Bible is the Inspired Word, and some churches whose manner of worship music sounded like noise to my... uncultured ears, and some churches that were on the farside of the Metroplex.
A nearby place with awesome music and Biblical-based preaching!
Is that too much to ask?

"Why, Forefront, did you spoil me so!?!?!?" -me
"By emulating a Biblical Church?" - Jacob
"Why, Forefront, Why!?!?!?" -me

So we went to The Village.
Yes, it sounds like a cult, but the normal sounding churches weren't what we were looking for. We were desperate.
We walked in and were told to scoot over to the center, that every seat was precious, that they often had to send people away for lack of room. The room sat about 300 (maybe?) and there were 5 services at that campus and 2 other campuses.
The service started by verbally giving us the order of the service and key announcements, before going into one worship song. Which was rocking.
Then the video service started and the pastor was animated and enthralling and used the Bible a lot. Which, as a Bible Translator, and a Christian, I appreciate. The sermon concluded, communion was passed which we all took at the same time, and the service was concluded with the rest of the worship set.
Rocking worship, Biblical based preaching, 20 minutes away. Win.

While in Dallas, I attend the Village Church. And it's not a cult! Well, at least, I haven't seen that side yet.

Internal Dialogue

9:00 am, a cup of Blue Mountain Coffee from PNG, and the day such a lovely temperature that every door in the house is flung wide open.
A delightfully calm and peaceful morning.
And here I am, unable to enjoy it, because someone seasoned my coffee with broken worry.


"Don't worry, the Bible says, rest your cares on the Lord," my Superego says to my Id.
"Listen, I didn't just pick up Worry because I thought she was pretty! She's growing on my like a fungus! I can't get rid of her!"
"You can do all things through Christ Jesus," Superego recites dutifully.
"I wish I could get someone to call me back about this PD trip! Even if they told me no, someone extending the courtesy of returning my calls would be so ...nice," Id laments.
"I wish I didn't have to raise money for this. I just had money. Or I was paid like a normal employee. Or anything!" Id continues.
"That's rather selfish. You get to go work to fulfill the Mission of God and you don't want to let others have their chance to contribute to the Mission? Not nice."
"They don't want to contribute to the mission!"
"Yes they do. They just don't know that they do. You have to tell them."
"And how can I tell them if they wont take my calls!"
Sensing that Id's emotional levels had risen to the brink of dangerous, Ego stepped forth.
"I'm going to go try to make some more phone calls. If at first you don't succeed!"
Ego picks up the phone.
"$10 that everyone she talks to blows her off."
"Gambling is a very irresponsible way to handle money," Superego sniffs disdainfully.


Needless to say, I'm a little stressed out. My heart longs to see Papua New Guinea again, and I have an opportunity in February, but I fear I won't have the funds to do it. The past ... many years of my life have been focused on this goal of going to PNG. And now that I've been to PNG, seen the love and hospitality of the people, seen the desperate desire for the Word of God in their own language, seen their proactive efforts that can, alas, only get them so far without a Translator, it makes not being there so much harder.

So, if you would, pray that sugar seasons my coffee instead, that people get back to me about this PD trip, and that God communicates to me somehow what He wants me to do, and that I can learn to hear.

A Textbook I Enjoyed ... What?!?!

Textbooks are traditionally something to be endured, not enjoyed. And I will assure you, I've had plenty of textbooks this semester that had to be endured. But The Upside-Down Kingdom by Donald Kraybill was one that I enjoyed.
Written as if an oral transcript, the book is easy to read and points are told in the fashion of a narrative.
The moment that I decided I liked this book was, within the first 75 pages, when the historical climate of world about the time of Jesus was discussed, putting background that I didn't have the delight of knowing in Bible College on individuals like Herod the Great.
For example, it mentions that "Herod placed a golden eagle, the empire's royal symbol, over the great east gate of the city [of Jerusalem]. This so enraged some forty pious Jews that in defiance they tore the eagle down. Herod retaliated by burning them all alive." (pg 41)
This book enables you to empathize with the Jews. The Jews, who after the exile, finally decided to obey God, who tore down the symbol of Rome that tainted the city of Jerusalem, even when it meant their death. The Jews who repeatedly took their stand, as futile as it may have been, against the Romans to preserve the Temple of the Lord, who wanted to be freed from this pagan reign, who were very disappointed that Jesus wasn't going to be the one who did that. But all their Scriptures say He'll bring a new Kingdom, that He will resume the throne of David. It's no wonder they hated Him. They had expectations and He wasn't it.
This book makes the Jews not the Jesus slayers, but broken and lost people who have cried out to God to save them, with some preconceived notions of what they needed to be saved from. And when Jesus presented Himself as the Messiah, it's no wonder that they thought he was an impostor, a false prophet.
And what do you do with false prophets who invite you away from God? "You must put them to death" Deut 13:9. But Jesus preformed miracles! “Suppose there are prophets among you or those who dream dreams about the future, and they promise you signs or miracles, and the predicted signs or miracles occur. If they then say, ‘Come, let us worship other gods’—gods you have not known before— do not listen to them. The Lord your God is testing you to see if you truly love him with all your heart and soul." Deut 13:1-3
This book made the good intentions of the Jews clear. Because lets be honest, few people wake up and say, "I think I'm going to be the villain today." The Jews had good intentions, God-fearing intentions. They just weren't willing to admit that their interpretation of Scripture might be wrong.

And how often do we do that?

Great book. No footnotes though! How can I trust that his words are true if there are no footnotes! Facts need footnotes! Footnotes!


Also it said a bunch of other good stuff too.

PNG Branch Needs Prayers

2 months.
2 months is how long I spent in Papua New Guinea. And not even two months spent with one missionary.
2 months is how long it took me to fall in love with a country. I didn't realize I had fallen in love with the Branch, too.
But I started to realize it. First at the passing of Eunice Messersmith, a woman I had the honor of speaking to for perhaps 3 hours total. But a woman it only took 3 hours to come to love. The pain of this loss, the pain of the Branch wrecked my heart.
I continued to realize it when, instead of being miffed that I didn't get a reply to my emails within several weeks, I became concerned with how hard the Branch must be working itself and how exhausted it must be.
And I realize it today, when two unfair, tragic stories reached my ears, stories that come to hurt 2 strong translators on our team, stories that remind us of the sin in the world.
Today, again my heart screams at the pain for the members of the Branch.
A part of me wants to go now, not necessarily because I can do anything at all, but because it seems right, to go where people are hurting.
And a part of me wonders what tragic stories are going to come to try to hurt me.

Pray that the PNG translators who've received unfair news will stand strong.
Pray for this Branch.
Pray for my Branch.

Tropical Ulcer

A sequel to “Jais: Paradise is Danger”


I woke in a cold sweat many nights to the terrible nightmare that I would awake to find my leg encased in coral, like this fellow to the right.
The coral that had scraped me at Jais now tried to grow inside of me. A pursuit that my team leader and I worked to thwart.
Lindy first told me to always keep it wet. (If you know anything about wound care, you know this is a stupid idea. Keep it dry is the rule of thumb. Bacteria likes the wet. Do not try these remedies in a non-tropical area!!) But in the tropics, keep it wet. With bleach evidently. For days, Lindy poured bleach into my open wound. Pain abounded.
But the efforts of the coral to encase me redoubled.
So we shifted our tactics accordingly. Lindy poured sugar into my open wound. (If you know anything about wound care, you know this is a stupid idea. No sugar is the rule of thumb. Bacteria likes sugar. Do not try these remedies in a non-tropical area!!)
But alas, this effort too was in vain, (although it didn’t hurt as much).
“Lindy,” I wailed, “I don’t want to amputate! Just throw me in the ocean! I’ll just be part of the Great Coral Reef”
(Lindy literally poured sugar into my blood stream. It caused me to be a little hyperbolic.)

But Lindy had not written me off as dead yet and we tried something else.
We put wet gauze on my leg and waited until it dried and then peeled it off. The ulcer had morphed back into a common scrape. The battle against the coral had been won and there was much rejoicing.

Working with Key Terms

So, amidst working on Partnership Development, I've been working on a Key Terms project for PBT PNG. It can look a little complicated, but when I got the hang of it it became almost mindless, something I can do while watching TV or carrying on a conversation.
Now the purpose of this is to help the national translators. There are key terms throughout the Bible in Greek and to make a good translation, you want those words to be translated the same way each time they appear. But what if a word in Greek could get translated in different ways depending on the context? For this, we need subcategories where a national can see, in verse A, the key term, X, should be translated as Y, but in verse B, the key term, X, should be translated as Z.
And with this, better and more accurate translations can be made!
(you can click the pic to make it bigger)

See, first (please find the number 1) I look for a word that is marked as 'notoriously contextual'.

Then (please find the number 2) I find that word in Paratext, who has already divided the word into subcategories.

Afterwards (number 3), I find the greek word in Logos and copy and paste it into Notepad++ (because I can't figure out how to change my font in Notepad++).

Proceeding to step number 4, I have to do my first bit of thinking: I look at the subcategories that Paratext provided and try to consolidate them. Then when I decide what categories I want, I put them into Notepad++.

At step number 5, I input all the times that greek word appeared with that definition into Notepad++. I have to do this with each definition and each greek word that gets translated into that definition. Notice the colorful dots beside the box beside the 5. Each color indicates a different greek word. They each need their own entry in Notepad++.


So this is what I've been up to. It can be boring work, frustrating work, monotonous work. But. It will help with the Bible Translation process. And that's my job.

Elizabeth Vahey
Serving the Bibleless of Papua New Guinea

I hate going to Church

I don't like going to Church.
Every Sunday morning, afternoon, Saturday evening, Monday evening, Wednesday evening, or whenever else church meets, I wake up and I groan in misery at the thought of going to church. Bleh, church!
But (most) every time, I drag myself out of bed anyway and get in my car, thinking of a million different good excuses to email whoever I need to email to get out of it. This morning as I was putting on my make-up I thought "well, yesterday I was very sick. In bed till 3! I felt a bit better today but I didn't want to spread anything..."
But I found myself in the parking lot anyway. And each time I drag my rather reluctant feet from the car and walk into the building.
And (most) every time, without fail, I become overjoyed to join the Church! Surrounding myself with Christians, sharing my ministry and hearing about other's ministries, serving others in whatever capacity I can, letting others serve me in my ministry, worshiping with fellow Christians that I had never before met.
I love being at Church!
It's the getting to church thats the hard part....

Dinner with a Homeless Couple

I had just gotten back to the apartment. I wanted to work on a project and watch Lie to Me, but my hands were shaking violently, so I decided to sleep off the shakes instead. A broken sleep, punctuated by reasonless wailing of the cat (not cute mewing, dying alley cat wailing), and brought to an end by the text saying that my housemate would not need me to bring her back her car tonight, but in the morning. With this news, I decided to stop by Walmart to get soda, juice, and milk (Vegans. How do they eat cereal?)
And as I was leaving, a man, brown straight jaw-length hair, unshaven, his facial hair growing into a goatee, square rimless glasses, calls out to me. "Do you, ma'am, can I have, some money for food?" Shaking, twitching, coughing. I had some cash, $20, but I was going to use it to pay my housemate for a haircut.
"I'm sorry, I don't have any spare cash," I said looking around.
"Oh, ok," he replied dejectedly as he began to back away, "Thank you, anyway."
"But is there a place to eat nearby? I could buy you food."
His face lit up! "Yes, right over there! Can I go get my wife too?"
"Yes, of course. I'll meet you over there."
When I had finished loading my car he had walked back without his wife. I began to drive over and he ran. He ran and ran. Sometimes he would stop and bend over coughing, but he would be back to running again. I think he was afraid that I wouldn't wait for him. (Little did he know about the time I was stood-up by a homeless man!)
When we arrived I told him to order him and his wife whatever he wanted. But there was an 8 minute wait on what he choose. A beautiful 8 minute wait. A wait during which he told me that he was born and raised in Las Vegas, that his mother died and he lost his job, that he was evicted from his home and his ID and other important information was stolen, that his infant daughter went to live with his mother-in-law, but due to scheduling, they were only able to see her one hour a month. 12 hours a year. During which his wife arrived, a pretty woman with blonde shoulder length hair and black glasses held together by tape. Ben and Sharon were thinking of moving on from Vegas, to find their fortune elsewhere, but even having traveled all over, I couldn't think of any place that would be easy to live.
He told me that sometimes when he thinks about what he had it blows his mind. He had lived in a house, he had had a job, he had had two dogs. And now he has his wife, and the generosity he can find in a city without a reputation for generosity.
I invited them to Verve tomorrow night and hope to see them then. Maybe I can think of a way to do more for them.
This about hour long encounter had me cry out, when I got into my car, that God would quickly raise the support that I need so that I might be able to afford to bless others as others bless me.
My heart breaks for Ben and Sharon.

All People Church in Las Vegas

"Isn't she supposed to be raising support? She sure is spending a lot of time in Vegas..."
And support raising is going great!
I came out to Vegas for 2 weeks in the beginning of February and left Vegas with $2019! But in addition to those special gifts, Vince, lead pastor of Verve, introduced me to Bret, lead pastor of All People. Bret was a trainer for those raising support like I am, so had a great passion for what I'm doing and for assisting me in any way he could. So he invited me out to serve at his church and meet the contacts that he has.
When we met for that first lunch, Bret gave me both a list of people to contact and a to-do list a mile long. Bret assured me that what ever I could complete during the week of chaos prior to Easter he would consider a bonus. But my sweet computer skills let me blow thru the list and meet most of the needs All People had listed for me.
Now the event on the horizon is the 4th Annual Easter Egg Hunt! This event spanned all spring break as well. We sent out teens two by two to go door to door and pass out invitation flyers. I got to chaperon two girls standing outside of a grocery store doing the same. Thursday night, the house was packed due to a Easter Egg Stuffing Party: Food, Fellowship, and Labor.
But tomorrow is the big day!

Looking back at Carrollton

I spent two weeks in Carrolton, GA with a couple I knew from Mid-Atlantic Christian University. I had the opportunity to meet a number of people and share with them what I was doing. During Southern Hills Church's Middle School and High School activities, I had the opportunity to speak to the students and inform them about God is doing about the world. It was great getting a chance to meet and talk to some missions minded kids and talk about what they want to do and how they can make that happen.
But the best parts were the generous givers. The woman who wanted to give but didn't know how she could afford it so prayed and a textbook she had put on sale a semester ago, a textbook she had almost thrown away just the week before, was bought and she gave that money to me. Or the teenager who gave me the dollar he had that he was going to buy a soda with but figured he could just make a sacrifice and get water instead so he could give to me.
How awesome!

I'm in Las Vegas

Presently, I am on a plane to Las Vegas. This has probably been the most stressful trip I've taken in a while. My first flight has more turbulence than I would prefer and when we landed there was quite a struggle to get the walk connected to the plane. Finally defeat was admitted and they had us use the stairs of the plane, walking into the rain of Ohio. Aboard my next plane, another complication occurred and we were on the plane for an hour prior to take off. My general preference on planes is to sleep the miserable experience away (I hate planes. Great for a missionary, isn't it?) but I was just woken by a particularly loud woman who decided to stand from her seat and have a conversation with the woman behind me by screaming in my ear. I guess this means I'm awake. At least for a spell. For lunch I had bought airplane food. Yes, bought. Due to the delay in getting off the first flight and despite the delay in the take off of the second flight, there was hardly any time to get from one gate to the next and definitely not time to grab lunch. While I would arriving in Las Vegas at 10:30am (or 11:30, due to the delay), it would still be 1:30 (2:30) Eastern Time which is the time my belly is currently on. I asked the flight attendant for the buffalo chicken wrap. She told me she would acquiesce when the plane was in the air. Shortly later, my meal was served. The plane took that long getting off the ground. I ate half, intending to eat the other half during the flight. After a while, I gave up and ate the other half. That's how long the plane took to get off the ground. To top it all off, the duration of the trip was 4 hours. Unless it's drug induced (Dramamine is a good friend), sleep on a plane is only bearable for 2 hours. So for the other two, here I type, I still and stare at the floor in a groggy haze, and for a while I watched Sherlock Holmes, but my battery could only take so much of that. So now I'm at my new place of residence. Showered, napped, and waiting for the hosts (also the Pastor of All Peoples Christian Church and his wife) to return home and give me instruction on what they week will look like!

I am a nomad. But

I am a nomad. But I don't think I was made to be.

I have been enjoying this PD trip a great deal. I've loved visiting new places and meeting new people and experiencing new things. But,

I'm going on three months of moving at least every two weeks. I'm a guest everywhere I go, which means if I've had a long day I can't just walk in the house and go to my room and turn on my stereo and be. No, I'm a guest and I have to be a good one. If my host wants to talk, I need to talk. If they want to go to dinner, if they want to watch tv, if they want to sit around a fire and sing Kumbayah, thats what I need to do. Which is fine. Great even! I love it! But all the time wears on me. Always being a guest is tiring. I want to go home, where I feel free to slam a door when I'm mad, stand in the shower as long as my heart desires, eat whatever in the kitchen strikes my fancy, where I have the freedom to not concern myself with what might offend the host but where I am the host.

I want to be in a place of my own. With my desk and my bed. A place where my clothes go into drawers instead of spilling out of my suitcases (making the guest room floor a difficult place to navigate). I want to have a place where I can keep my thoughts orderly.

I'm afraid that I have been moving so fast that it's hard to keep my thoughts straight. It's hard to keep up with everything! There are things I'm supposed to be doing that I'm just not because theres so much tangible chaos how can I think about the invisible chaos, the thank you letters I was supposed to write to the grantors of my undergrad scholarships, the transcripts I was supposed to send off, the thank you letters I was supposed to write to supporters and churches I've visited, the Paratext registration, the reimbursment request i was supposed to send in to for all my work expenses which is time sensitive but i need to do because my bank account balance is getting low.

I have been enjoying this PD trip a great deal. I've loved visiting new places and meeting new people and experiencing new things.

I am a nomad. But I don't think I was made to be.

I love visiting new places and meeting new people and experiencing new things. But I want to do that with nice long stays at a place all my own to spread out my adventures.

I am a nomad. But I want a home base.
Is that ok?

Taking a Hint. ...from Jesus

Yesterday, Nicole got a text message asking if we were home. Within 2 minutes there was a woman who I have had the joy of meeting a couple times and her young son in the living room.
"I just had to tell you this story!" She told Nicole. "My husband and I were talking and praying about how we could possibly work it into our budget to give to Elizabeth, we don't have a lot but we really wanted to give to this ministry. Then I get a phone call for a book that I put on sale a year ago. I almost threw the book away last week because I didn't think anyone would ever buy it. But I just went down to meet her today and, it's not a lot," she said directing her attention to me, "but I figure I can take a hint from God."
I was so taken aback I almost forgot to thank her! But look at these beautiful undertones of the story! Selling of possessions to give to the Church, very "First Church" which would be marvelous to get back to. But even more beautiful, was not saying, "I wish we could give but we don't have any money to spare, sorry" but "We want to give but we don't have any money to spare, God how can we give to her?" And then! And then! Taking a hint from God! Its happened to me before. People were thinking about me and then got their tax refund in the mail. Then *I* got their tax refund in the mail. But I think it's so beautiful and full of faith!

"Hasn't God chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith?" James 2:5

My Heart's Desire

Right now, in this moment, it is my hearts desire to: have a desk. That's right a desk. A beautiful desk comprised of at lest three planks of wood positioned in such a way that a desk was formed and a chair. A beautiful desk with my new laptop, and my old laptop that I'm still transitioning out of, and my external hard drive with all my media, and envelopes and stamps, and stationary. So that when I think, "I need to write my newsletter" I don't have to put that off until I get my hard drive because that has my pictures. Or when I think, "I need to send the thank you cards I wrote a month ago" I don't have to put that off until I get to where ever I left my box with stamps and envelopes. A beautiful desk that has everything I need to complete the to-do list in my head. The to-do list that reels throughout my day, distracting me from the simple pleasures of watching a movie with friends, enjoying the reading of a book, dining with an after-church lunch crowd, listening attentively to a sermon. The to-do list that holds my thoughts captive to it! A beautiful desk that will enable me to check things off my to-do list, to lessen the nagging voices in my head, to free my mind from my captivity! A beautiful desk to set me free! Free from the things I must do so that I may delight in the things I want to do!
But alas. I have no such desk. For I am a nomad.

Beggars Are Generous

One day I was talking to my PBT coach about how much money I don't have. I then walked into the the office of a friend and missionary. "I need money!" I wailed. She went to grab her bag and fish out her wallet. "for what?" she asked as she dug. "To go to PNG." "oh," was her reply as she paused in her search. "I only have $5 but you can have it if you want."
This woman, recently married, trying to raise her own support, leapt for her $5 to give me, not knowing why I needed it but just knowing that I did.

A man in Vegas, down on his luck, posting regularly on FB about his financial struggles, a man with little, heard that I was going to be in Vegas without a car and was worried about getting around. He offered his while he was at work. A man with almost nothing, leapt at the chance to share what he did have.

I think that people who have to ask other people for money (not that either of these friends should be defined as beggars any more than I should be) and know what it's like to be dependent on their generosity are more generous than most. I feel like there's something wrong with that. That people who have plenty should be the ones who whip out their resources at the slightest mention of need. But I guess, as the saying goes (I'm not aware of a verse though) "God uses the poor to shame the rich."

Looking for Opportunities in GA, Prayers please!

Here I am at Southern Hills Christian Church, trying to meet individuals who might be interested in supporting me. Some of the life groups that we thought were going to be meeting this week are actually not going to be meeting. So that's caused a little worry about whether or not I'll get enough face time with individuals to find supporters. But today I'll go talk to the small group pastor about groups that WILL be meeting and which of those would be good for me to attend. I'll also be talking to the head pastor about area churches that he has connections with that might be interested in meeting me.
Saturday I met one couple, Sunday I attended service and shook the hands of many people, and today is my first day in the office and I'm going to try to get some things lined up.
Prayers please

My encounter with a homeless man

I was on my way to Georgia.
It was about dinner time and I figured I should just stop in Birmingham and get something to eat even though I was only two hours out. I'm sure, I thought, the Jones's will eat before I arrive.
So I pulled off at an exit that featured a Krystals (we dont have those in VA) and as I was waiting for the light at the end of the exit ramp, I noticed a man. He was a young man. Probably a little older than me. with a few bundles of belongings behind him and a cardboard sign. It read "Traveling. Need Anything." All I really had was a five dollar bill in my back pocket. The food in my car inventoried at 4 Chips Ahoy White Fudge Chunk Chocolate Chip Cookies (crunchy of course), a mostly eaten bag of Pita Chips, a few starbursts, a few Dove chocolates with caramel filling, and those awesome chocolate eggs that only come out for Easter time. Not a marvelous offering. "If only I had some real food," I thought. "Oh! I'm going to get dinner right now!!!"
The light turned green. I slowed as I past him and called out, "Hey, if you meet me at Krystals I'll buy you dinner."
I showed up at this fast food joint and informed the staff, who were very perplexed as to why I sat instead of ordered, that I was waiting for someone. I didn't see him coming over. So I checked my email and updated my facebook. Still he didn't come. So I prayed that if this man who God loved was hungry that he would come and let me serve him.
I ordered my food and ate and waited some more.
And I thought about this man. This man that God loved. Who was just trying to get somewhere. Who had a story. A reason why he was standing with a cardboard sign instead of driving like most people. A history. Dreams and hopes and fears and regrets. A man that God loved. And I loved him. And I wanted to sit with him at Krystals and ask him who he was and why he was here, where he had come from and where he was going.
But he didn't come.
I drove back to get on the interstate. And there he was standing with his sign. I guess he needed something more specific than anything. But I wish he would've had dinner with me. Because I loved him.
I fall in love with strangers often.
I was stood up by a homeless man.

Singsing

A singsing is a tradition song and dance in Papua New Guinea. When my internship team landed in Samban, where we lived in the bush, we were greeted with a singsing. Men, women, and children dressed in grass skirts, elaborate headdresses, paint, and mud danced the dances of their ancestors to welcome us into their village. It was quite an experience. But this wasn't to be the only time we had an opportunity to experience a singsing. Twice more, while we were there, singsings were going to be preformed. Once for the Pryors, the previous Pioneer Bible Translators missionaries who were working in Samban on the ApMa project. And once for the grand opening of the local elementary school. One of the members of my team loved the singsing so much that she asked if she could be a part of it. When her request was granted she returned to the team to ask one of us to join her so she wouldn't be alone. I said yes. So on the day the plane was to come we went over to the house where everyone was preparing and we learned the moves. This was a big deal. While I just felt like we were jumping about, and many were just laughing at the white women, there were a few who were very adamant that they dance be done right, that we jump about properly. Suddenly, all the children jumped up screaming "balus!" The children heard the plane long before I did. We ran to the bridge. (The first singsing had begun at the runway but the nationals decided that the white women wouldn't be able to preform the singsing for a full mile. I agree.) While waiting for the preformances at the runway to end and for the Pryors to come to the bridge, the nationals painted my face and arms with mud and paint and tied grass around my arms and ankles. And then we danced and danced. The end was not too soon. I was worn out by the end!

Neighborhood Groups

Yesterday I sat in a staff meeting about Neighborhood groups. And I got REALLY excited! Instead of having small groups where people just come to the one they like, or where their friends are, or what days are open in their schedule, people go to a small group in their neighborhood. Why does this matter? Because of the neighborhood activities that can take place! Whether it be block parties or, as one man did, bring his grill out to the front yard and tell the men that he had the meat if they'd come on over. Getting to know people and begin building relationships. After the bible study, the neighborhood group conspires on how to reach their neighborhood. They talk about who they've been talking to and who they can talk to and how they can talk to him. Sure you can do this in your own neighborhood with your group far away but this way there's a group of you which you can do it with. And you can invite them to come to bible study and it's convinently located in that neighborhood! The community that can happen if you live close to your group! Your bible study isn't a tuesday night thing but people live two streets down! They can come over for dinner, to watch a TV series, just living life together! I'm very excited about the possiblities of this idea, the reintroduction of community to a place that lacks it, the intentional pursuit of the unchurched in that neighborhood, and the support and accountablity of the others in your group!

Thursday I finished phone calls for the childrens ministry meeting on Sat and Sun, fixed a foosball table who had some men unscrewed down, and replaced a basketball backboard as the first had shattered. Friday, I tallied up a final count on attendance and wrote a puppet script, before getting off early and having the day to relax. Which was nice.

First Days in Surprise!

Right now, I'm serving at Parkway Church in Surprise, AZ.
The first day was packed, the second was similar, the third promises to be as well!
On the first day, I walked in on the Childrens Ministry meeting where I got to meet the cool people I'll be working with. Afterwards, I was promptly sent to backstage to take an inventory of the chaos there. There wasn't A LOT of things back there but there was a NUMBER of things back there. Everything from umbrellas to slime machines! My list was four pages long. (During this there was a lunch break, where I was treated to Chili's.) Then I got to make phone calls. I hate making phone calls. Hate. Passionately Hate. But making phone calls I did! for the rest of the day. And it was the first things I did the next day. Then there was a staff meeting/luncheon at the main campus, followed by, you guessed it! Phone calls. The only break from these phone calls was to tally up who would be attending the meetings I was calling about and the number of their children. No matter how many times I did this, the numbers did not, would not match. I ended the day with phone calls and I will be making them tomorrow.
Tomorrow I come in at 9 for a staff meeting. I know I'll be staying late to make phone calls during hours when people are home from work and after that I'll be going to a meeting where I'll meet people who might be interested in supporting me!

Summary of My Last Week in Vegas

Saturday at Verve, I put sprinkles on 360 cupcakes for the Cupcake Girls who take cupcakes out to the women who work in strip clubs to show God's love to them in a practical way!
Sunday, I worked with preschoolers during both services and watched kids Sunday night for Verve University.
Thursday, I worked on painting the inside of the Verve. And Friday, I helped babysit for Parent's Night Out, a date night with free childcare provided for the parents.
Outside of that, I spent my last week in Vegas meeting people, hanging out, and building relationships.
I did meet with one other church, All People's Church. The pastor there was a very ethusiastic man who kept things from being awkward. He had been living on support before and had a job training people how to raise support, so in addition to everything else, he gave me some good ideas to keep in mind. But that everything else is: at least a special gift (of how much is to be decided), perhaps a monthly gift, and perhaps an invitation to go out to Vegas again, serving there instad of Verve. I get to contact him again on Friday and see what decisions have been made!

Traveling! (A few days ago, not presently)

Saturday night I stayed up all night in Vegas. Watched "I am Number Four", drive down the strip, and walked thru the Venetian. I arrived home at 3. Took a shower, and rode to the airport. Despite being so early, the security line was ginormous! And by the time I got to my gate, I didn't wait long before boarding. Then I went to sleep. 2 hours. Got lunch during my layover, because I'd be in the sky during lunch time. (Stack veggies, greek style. Yummy.) And got back on a plane and slept. 3 hours. Arrived at the place where I'd be napping and slept. 4 hours.
I woke up and printed directions. The person who had my keys was on a road trip but her return was imminent. When she arrived, I put my luggage in my otherwise loaded car and, at 12am, began to drive. 14 hours. Straight. 5 Hour Energy drinks are amazing!
I got home, greeted the family I was staying with, took a quick shower (my first in a while if you've been counting these hours), and slept. 3pm-2am. Woke due to sore throat. gargled some cayenne pepper. and woke again at 8.
I would tell you about my fist day of work now, but I need to go start my second!

Getting Some Serving In!

Sunday, I had sanitized toys (blocks may be talked about as a category, but when wiping them down, they are many many individuals), worked in the nursery, and help set up and clean up the superbowl party. Tuesday, I helped get pictures and items for a class Vince is teaching. But that's little stuff! Most of those days were spent experiencing strip life.
But now that my friends have moved on, my days, especially yesterday, have had a bit more work to them.

Wednesday I met with a man from Canyon Ridge church who assured me that he would pass my information to the missions committee, which meets on the 20th. I also met with someone from The Crossing, who also said that he would pass my story on but didn't think that The Crossing was interested in taking on another missionary. After these engagements I waited from 3 til 6, alone at the Venue (my housemate and ride had to go to work). I was given the task to cut out 20 large hearts from red cardstock. I did this one at a time so that it would take up a lot of time and keep me busy. Student Ministry was a 6 and I was interviewed by the students, who, like most people, were astound that there are 6,909 languages in the world with 5% having the Bible, who, like most people, took that they had English Bibles for granted. So it was cool being able to bring their attention to that.


Thursday, I got to design the tickets for the Parent's Night Out on Friday. I copied, one by one, 20 copies of about 30-40 pages for Verve University. After that, I cut out 200 hundred of my tickets one at a time. (and this time, one at a time was a necessary evil and not done for the sake of consuming more time). With the tickets, which were printed on cardstock, the cardstock kept jamming the printer. so I'd pull a page from the printer, go cut it while the printer warmed up and tried again, then get up and walk back to the printed to pull the next page out and so the cycle repeated.

See, this work isn't little stuff like sitting with children for an hour. This work is the kind where you think it's little but you come in at 8:30am and the one or two little task(s) doesn't stop until 4:30 pm. This is the serving I came to do. The mindless, hated jobs that consume one's life and prohibit them from making phone calls and meeting with people to do real ministry.

I did get a chance to do more touristy things Thursday night. Vince and his family took me to The Rio Buffet. He said it was big and good. And it was. It made me think of a Golden Corral. Then we went to the Bellagio, when I saw the conservatory in the Chinese New Year theme and then two of the fountain shows which has water choreographed to the music. It was really cool but hard to express in words. Then we drove down the strip and the noteworthy casinos were pointed out to me. It was a good time.

Update from Vegas

I've been in Las Vegas for four days now!

The day before - I discovered that my ride in Vegas thought I was coming in Sunday instead of Saturday. We ironed out those details thankfully! My ride to the airport came over to spend the night and a friend I hadn't seen in a while joined us to drink tea and tell stories. At 2 am, I decided that I should probably pack my car before I left for the airport at 3am. We got my car packed, parked at the office, made it thru the icy roads to the DFW airport, found that you cannot subsitute a carry on for a personal item and so I had to check one item, and then I sat for two and a half hours (the icy roads were not as treacherous as anticipated) on my flight.

Day 1 - The flights were uneventful and I used them to catch up on the sleep that my guests were so kind to deprive me of. I was picked up from the airport by, not my new housemate, but another Verve staff member. Kandyss (pronounced Candice) is pretty awesome. Generally, when two strangers meet theres a degree of awkwardness thats rather uncomfortable. But Kandyss has a bubbly personality that held the conversation when I was still adjusting to my surroundings but, when I got adjusted, let me contribute to the conversation too! The lack of awkward is always a great thing to be welcomed with!
After we got some lunch, we meet up with my housemate, Holly, who just got off work at her other job. She had a similar welcoming personality. (How lucky am I to meet TWO of such people!)
After grocery shopping, Holly had a double date, Samantha, my other housemate, had a date, and Samantha's friend had an exclusive dinner (remember, they didn't think I was coming in for another day) so I sat in an apartment with no internet or cable. Luckily, thanks to FB, I found some friends from bible college who just happened to be passing thru Vegas on their way to their final destination, so making plans for when they arrived concluded my evening. (They decided that I should not pull out my wallet whilst with them!) Evening passed and morning came,

The second day: I was up at 6:30am and at church by 8am. I went to first service which was awesome! During second service, I worked in the nursrey. After church, we stayed to help set up for the super-bowl party. Taking only a short break to get a small snack at Tropical Smoothie, the super-bowl game began and the next four hours of my life involved trying to understand why people were so excited about this. Samantha's birthday dinner followed the game and then I went to see the Strip with my college friends. A very active day!

Monday: After a staff meeting, I tried to help serve but when Kandyss heard my friends were in town she insisted that anything that can be done today could be done tomorrow and that to really understand and get Verve, I needed to understand life there. Which meant experiencing the strip. Just being on the strip, seeing the chaos and absurdity there would give me some insight into the days of those working there. So Monday I spent on a cultural experience, taking a break only to attend Monday night service. That night, I was kicked off the casino floor for being too young. We then headed off to enjoy the hot tub. It was a good night.

Tuesday: Began with a visit from Alex McManus (Erwin's brother) who was a very good speaker. Afterwards, I looked for pictures for an activity in a Verve University class that Vince is teaching. Then Kandyss and I went to find objects for another activity, before I headed off to the strip for my friends last evening. On this evening, I was treated to a massage (they had gotten all day passes to a spa on the strip)and dinner. I had tried to convince those footing the bill to go off the strip to a less expensive restruant but they were insistent that they blow their winnings on an outrageously priced meal at Shibuya. I decided with one friend to share a sushi platter I wanted and get an entree to supplement. I had thought we'd share the entree too. I was mistaken. An australian wagyu skirt steak was brought to both of us. It was the most amazing steak I've ever had. When the sushi platter came out I was pleased that I was still hungry but only a few pieces of sushi remedied that. However, despite the fact that your tummy might burst, you cannot ignore a spread of sushi. I might've said "ok, I'm done" more than a dozen times, but it was as if my chopsticks were moving of their own accord. When the waiter asked if we'd like dessert my stomach moaned in rebellion. One of our party did order dessert and after trying a bit of the raspberry dessert called Calpico Pannacotta, which has a layer of raspberry gelee, a vanilla cream, and... I'm thinking of what words to use to explain the awesomeness of this but, trying to keep this brief, my tastebuds vetoed my stomachs proposal to deny dessert. This was a great decision. My stomach later tortured me but I do not regret this dining experience. My friends hit the casino and I, too ill to move (such a glutton I am), fell asleep in the hotel room, not to rejoin the world of the living till morning.

My friends have moved on now. and while I'm really glad that I got to hang out with them and see them again after so long, I'm glad that they've left. While Vince assured me that if his friends were in town he would do as I did and Kandyss said it was a cultural experience, I'm glad I can now focus on serving Verve as was my goal in coming here.

Today I almost died

(I wrote this Tuesday, February 1st 4:00)

Today I almost died. And that is not the climax of this story. I woke up this morning to many Facebook statuses declaring snow, but to my great displeasure, on of these came from someone living in the same neighborhood as me. It was in this moment that I knew today would be a bad day. But I had a list of things to get done and Texas’ common excuse for snow would not deter me. Little did I realize that this was not TXs common excuse for snow but a rather uncommon layer of ice. The roads were paved with ice. I was not concerned! I drove at a slow reasonable pace, rarely accelerating over 30. I quickly learned that stopping was a bad idea as getting that initial momentum was difficult to do without swerving. And alone on the highway, I was not concerned. But then more Texans came out to face the day and danger mounted. I was less than pleased with the idea of driving past someone who was swerving (what if he swerved into me and pushed me off the road?!?!) But stopping to wait for them to regain control only caused me to swerve dangerously. Sometimes I was afraid that I wouldn’t regain control myself. Once, I slide so badly that cried out in terror. The steep frozen ditches, I knew, would not be kind. But I straightened myself and finally turned on the road that opened to my neighborhood.
I was surprised to see the ice had melted on this road there the tires worn through. But this pleasant surprise was not to last. I came across a police car and two SUVs which had fallen down the steep shoulder. A pickup with huge monster wheels was trying to pull one out but was slipping himself. I watched as the other tried to drive on to the road but only to fall further and further back. Once the man in the monster pickup parked and got out to talk to the cop. When he left his vehicle, it began to slip sideways off the road. My concern crescendo-ed into terror. These big SUVs can’t get their bearing, how will I in my old lady car? The man who’s helping can hardly keep his car on the road!
The officer came over to me and said that I couldn’t get up the hill. He told me to find another route. “But, officer, I live at the top of the hill!” His response did not leave me confident that I would be able to navigate the twisted uphill road. He said that the man with the monster truck could spin me around (spin!?!?) but I’d have to sit at the wheel. Seeing those SUVs slip back as they were being pulled, no control of themselves either way, I thought the dose of adrenaline I’d get if that happened to me would be lethal! So I admitted my fear. Another man came to man my steering wheel and they turned my car around in manner that I know I would not have been able to do so well. But where could I go? My house was uphill. Everywhere was closed. I didn’t want to face the highway I had just been on again. So I called my coach and he told me that a woman who volunteered for PBT lived just downhill from where I was and would welcome me into her home while I was unable to get to mine. So I’ve been at this lovely house for 4 hours now with the beautiful grandmotherly volunteer, a friend of mine, and two Missionary Care personnel who happen to be staying here. We had lunch, and coffee, and baked brownies, and told stories. It was a good place to rest from the day’s misadventures. But I have a ratatouille party tonight and must return to my house! I hope the Sandman will have come and made the hill passable!

My Paper - Stealing My Life with 700 Words to Show for It

For the class I'm taking, I have to write a paper on the Misegian Language Family. Writing a paper takes a lot of work. First you have to get your data. Sometimes that data is on the flip side of the Earth and sending large documents from a 3rd world country to the other side of the world is far from an easy feat. Sometimes people are hesitant to entrust their work to you and you have to set their mind at ease. Sometimes you can't get the data you need and just have to work without it. After all that, many hours have already been put into the paper.
Then you get to sit down and write. I have sat many hours in front of this screen writing this paper. Many hours. Let's say several. At least 7. Presently, at most 10. Just for fun (and because my brain refused to think anything useful for writing) I decided to take a break and remove all the extra stuff from my paper to see how much I had actually written. I removed the maps, the charts, the tables, the data examples, the headings, and all that other extra stuff and do you know what I came to? Less than 700 words. Less than 700 words! That's 100words/1hour! Right here I've already written more than 200 in 5 minutes! At that rate I should be able to write 800 in 15 mins and I wrote less than that in 7 HOURS!?!?!?! And yes, I understand that it's a little different to spill the thoughts in your head and to compare data and write intelligent statements in a professional manner but is the difference really so grand!?!!? Is it really 45 TIMES MORE WORK!??!? THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!!!
...
Oh and the best part? This paper is to be 12-15 pages. With the extra stuff it's six. I'm half way done. ONLY HALF WAY DONE! MAYBE ANOTHER 10 HOURS OF WRITING 100WORDS/HOUR AND I'LL BE FINISHED! Lets just hope there's not A CURVE!!!!
(The curve I'm referring to is when you've written as much as you can think to but you still haven't met the length requirement so you just sit and stare at the screen hoping that you'll have an epiphany concerning what to write and when you do, you scrap together only a short paragraph and then return to staring at the screen. In addition to be emotionally and intellectually painful, it's also very bad for your eyes.)

P.S. Just because I'm logged into Facebook doesn't mean I'm actively on it. The 7 hours spent in front of my computer was not spent on Facebook. So there!

The Expensive Stage in Life

That stage of life where you start to begin to go from being a college kid to being a professional in the work place is very expensive!
The wardrobe has to be flipped from my usual as-many-layers-and-colors-and-patterns-in-a-single-outfit-as-possible-without-clashing to ooo-chic-and-professional. And I can get a good dozen or so outfits out of simply rearranging the articles of clothing I have into less dynamic arrangements. And that's all I needed for the occasional speaking at a church or the meeting with a preacher or the coffee date with a could-be supporter. But now! Now that the rest of my semester will be serving in church offices! Now I need a bit more than a dozen arguably professional outfits!
And I need shoes! The only pair of flats that I have are my black tennis shoes that I wore to work at the convention center! (And you don't want to wear heels all day, all week if you've not very sure that you'll be sitting at a desk all day, all week) And besides being tennis shoes, they're so worn I'll probably replace them before I wear them to work again! So I had to find shoes. Two walmarts and a target left me unsatisfied (oh the gas it takes to drive around to get what i need!!!!) I finally went to a payless and found a pair that I'm ok with and were at a price that I was ok paying even though I was only ok with the shoes. But then I had to buy socks! Because these shoes were the shoes that just cover the toes and even threaten to show off a bit of the cursed "toe-cleavage" and you can't just wear any kind of sock with those!
...I don't even want to think about jewelry....

Jackpot!

Last night my external hard drive, Devon, died. So I had to buy a new one. I was thinking that I was about to run out of space on Devon so I bought a 1T hard drive. $119. Ouch. It is bulkier than Devon and not as pretty and it has that surface where if you breathe on it, all your gross oils will mar it. I named the brute Boris.
When I got home I discovered, in outrage, that the hard drive already had more than 100GB used up! This feels a lot like tithing I thought, probably in a more sad tone than it should've been. "Here buy a 1T hard drive! But you can't use 10%." Then, put out, (lets say my less than great pleasure was because I tithe to God not to a hard drive) I went to go see what was consuming 100GB of space. That is when I found 20 blockbuster movies on the hard drive! I believe that someone bought Boris and then returned him, but Walmart didn't wipe the drive before putting it back on the shelf. (Which, of course, begs the question, why did someone return Boris? is he not house-trained? I, until I discover otherwise, will believe that someone swiped Mommy's credit card for a $119 hard drive and Mommy wasn't happy about that.) And then I thought, "Wow! This is a lot like tithing! "Give me 10% and I'll give you AWESOME"!"
If all those movies were $15, that's more than double the price of the hard drive!
Devon will always have a special place in my heart.
But I will come to love Boris like you love that mangy mutt who you only bought over the lovely Akita because if someone didn't adopt it soon they'd put it down and then you bring him home to discover that he fills your home with something worth more than the price of him, a plethora of movies!

Sometimes I get jumpy...

We were in Madang, where the PBT office is located in PNG. It was our last week in the country. My team leader had moved to her own room. The Intern who had been in that room moved into the room that I had slept in. I, after the Cockroach Chronicles, had not left the living room couch. It was about 3 am and I heard something. I tried to tell myself it was another intern coming home (he was next door at the house of his fiancee), but when I remember that the doors were not locked, my concern became un-easeable. I got up to lock us in.


(The locks in PNG have keyholes on both sides, so that you can't punch thru the screen and reach thru to unlock it. (I know that the picture you may have in your head is probably very different from the picture in mine so, instead of use 1,000 words, I'll include a picture!) Having two keyholes makes it very easy to get locked in, as one of our team leaders has demonstrated here).


As I was locking the door, I kept hearing sounds in the yard. Every twig that snapped made me jump. I was way too on edge! I laid back down and fell into a restless sleep.
For this reason, I will never watch Criminal Minds whilst in the jungle. I love Criminal Minds, I really do. I own the first Season. But I get really jumpy state-side watching it. I think I will become a traumatized wreck if I tried to watch this in an already jumpy enducing environment.

(I probably will. After a while, when I rewatched all the Bones that I own, and Lie to Me, and House, and NCIS, I'll tell myself, oh it wasn't that bad. And watch it. And I will be terrified, and say I will never do it again. But there will probably be a next time...)

My Car Accident

Today I got in a car accident. I was not hurt. But I was a little shaken. Now, as you all are very desirous to know what happened, I drew you a picture. First, I, the tan box indicated with an "A" was minding my own business when I noticed blue box indicated with an "A" in the left turn lane with his right blinker on. Realizing that Texans are terrible drivers I decided that it was likely that he would pull out in front of me. So I moved over into the position indicated by the letter "B". He, as predicted moved from his lane into the position indicated by the letter "B". I thought I was good to go so continued forward. Then, he jerked in front of me! ("C") I yanked my steering wheel to turn onto the perpendicular street ("C") as I slammed on my brakes! My brakes locked! My steering wheel didn't want to turn! And I found myself in position "D". Notice the "D" position of the blue car. You cannot. That kid was gone.
I called the person with whom I just had lunch as he was two minutes from my present position and savvy in the manner of cars. He called the police who arrived surprisingly promptly. As we were telling the officer what happened, some random bloke walked up with a description of the car, driver, and lisence plate number. Apparently, he was behind me when all this transpired and followed the kid who didn't stop. The kid realized he was being followed so came back and while I was on the phone, came to me and said "Are you ok? I'm sorry that happened". I didn't realize that this was the driver but thought it was a witness and so waved him off as I tried to focus on the re-telling of this tale. When the man who followed him initially realized that the kid just stayed long enough to see if we were ok and didn't give insurance information to me or the other lady, he took off after him again to retrieve the information he gave the cop.
My car sustained some body damage but is mostly all right I think.

(I took this picture with my phone. I am impressed with its quality.)

A Thing about Beds

It started in Fall '09 when I first moved to TX. I thought I was staying in a house for four months and then going home. But a change of plans had me staying there for 6 months, a hatred of the place I was living had me move out early, my new house had me share a room, a departing resident had me move to an empty double room, and another shift in residents had me move to a single room. In six months, I had slept in four different beds.
I've moved before in my life. A lot when I was really little. But in my memory, I lived in one house for about 10 years. After my parents got divorce, my mom moved around a bit but then got settled. Then my dad moved a bit and then got settled. But even during that time, there was always a bed that was mine and stable.
This month I started at home in that bed, in my travels in a bed in GA, and now I'm in this bed. Next month I know I'll sleep in at least two different beds. That's five beds in two months! And if my semester goes as planned, this rate will not slow down.
I don't want to say I have developed an attachment to beds, because I try not to get attached to the bed. 1. I know I will leave it soon. 2. It is an inanimate object. But I have developed a thing about beds.
This is the bed I'm sleeping in in TX this time. I'm really digging the headboard shelf and I think that whenever I do settle down I will have to make sure I have one. I have an electric blanket under the sheet which I really appreciate. Sadly, it has a three-hour automatic off which means that I wake up every three hours to being freezing and have to turn on my blanket again. The house is very cold. Very very cold. Very cold.
I like proppig my pillow against the wall, having my coffee right there, and having all my textbooks within arms reach. (All of the books on the shelf are my textbooks, but the books on the shelf are not all of my textbooks).
I like the bed a lot. Perhaps I will match my long-term bed to it. Or perhaps, in my travels I will meet an assortment of beds which different fun elements and combine them into THE AWESOME BED! Ah, something I can dream about as I lay in each one...

A Miserable Day in the Garden

While we were in Samban, the missionary who we were quasi-staying with needed to go to her garden and I, along with a couple other interns, were recruited for the task. Little did I know how miserable I was about to be.
Her garden was, I'll say, more than a mile away, which was fine. A long walk, a walk where you started wondering if there even was a destination, but not miserable. Miserable comes later.
When we arrived in the garden, finally, the missionary was concerned because the grass was so high.
"It'll be hard to see if there are Death Adders… It might be better if you don't help."
"I'll do what my team leader says!" I replied, confident in my team leaders ability to lead me safely.
"You can do what you like," she said unhelpfully. "You might get bitten, but then you might not. I guess it depends on what you believe." And then she walked into the grass.
Great! So now if I don't walk in the grass I'm a faithless heathen and if I do…
"Hey!" calling her back, "Hypothetically speaking, let's say I do get bitten. What happens? Do I get medi-helicoptered out?"
"There'd be nothing we could do. You would die."
Great.
So I walked into the grass. Honestly, this was probably an act of pride more than faith. So if I had gotten bitten, I would have deserved it. But after a few moments of wading through the grass, I came to realize that there was no capacity in which I could help. I didn't have a machete to remove the bananas with and the national women who were helping us didn't need us to catch nor carry the bananas because they had a fantastic system of their own. So after risking my life for naught, I returned to the path and engaged the other purposeless intern with a lively debate on Mark 16:18.


Before we left, as we were waiting for the 4 wheeler to come back to carry the bananas, one of the nationals found gongray, which is this pod and you pull back the petals, fighting past the slime congealing it together, to reveal at it's heart these little raspberry looking fruit that taste like strawberries. Even though we were warned that too many might have less than wonderful effects on the workings of our systems, we ate plenty of the delicious fruit.


By the time we were ready to return home, the sun had risen high in the sky. The mile back, some of which was in the bush, but most of which was on the airstrip, was miserable. The sun beating down from above, the long walk, and started not on a well-rested body made me wonder if I would make it back. I very much wanted to just sit down and let the others go on without me, in the most melodramatic manner possible.
Finally, just as I was about to give up, a women sitting in a garden much closer to our destination than the missionary's called out to us "white kids" and offered us a kulau, a green coconut, which are marvelous at rehydrating the body. So I sat, and drank, and rested.
In retrospect, perhaps it wasn't so miserable. Risking my life, eating too many constipating berries, and almost dying in the heat of the day might be better described as rough than miserable…

I Wish I Was Filthy Rich

In February, I'm going to Vegas. And I'm super excited about it! My objective is to meet new people, start to build relationships, and get supporters whether promptly or down the road. But secretly, I just want to see Verve. I feel like God is moving there and I want to see it. I want to be a part of it.
Anyway, I found out on Facebook that Verve was starting a new series called Reel Prayer so I went to Verve's website (www.vivalaverve.org)to listen to their podcast. But something entitled "State of the Church Address" caught my eye. Vince's blog had stated that anyone who was a part of Verve should listen to it and, even though I'm not, I am nosy, and I settled down to listen to it.
Vince talked about how he came to find himself in Vegas, how Verve was facilitating in changing lives, and how important it was that Verve keep growing so it could continue to do so. Then he asked that the people of Verve help in this by 1. serving 2. giving 3. inviting people.
As Vince spoke of the struggles newly planted churches had, I became overcome with the thought that Verve was going to succeed, that God was moving thru that ministry, and the gate of Hell would not withstand it. And my desire to be apart of it intensified. I'm going to serve for two weeks, but two week? That is small potatoes.
I want to give to Verve financially. I thought about my tithe, but I tithe to my church and my church is Forefront. But I want to give to Verve. And I want to give to my friends who are preparing to go on some missions internships. And I want to give to Project: Greenhouse Affect. And there are so many things that I want to be apart of financially and I can't... I just can't. Because I'm a missionary and I need money. And the money I get people gave to me for my work and I can't very well give it away, can I?
I wish I was filthy rich and give as much as I want to whoever I want. I just want to be a part of what God's doing all over!

Edible Ants

Shortly after arriving in PNG, a friend who had been living there for a while pointed and said to me, “eat that!” I was but an intern and she was trusted and so I obeyed.
 
These rather large ants were called Muli Ants, named after their lemon flavor, which, I must say was rather potent.
 
Later on the internship, I discovered that these ants were the sort of ants that would return the favor. An intern and I were trying to leave through a fence, but these ants were swarming over the latch. My friend tried to be bold and fast but the ants made her regret that decision swiftly.
 
When I confronted the woman who told me to consume these evil ants, she said in her defense, “That’s why you crush their heads before you eat them!”

Back at GIAL

I'm presently sitting in my new room in Dallas, TX at my sweet desk, whose drawers serve as my dresser. Since I arrived yesterday, I've had Starbucks, visited Walmart twice, talked to the lovely people in the PBT office, met my new housemates, moved in, returned to the PBT office for more visiting and (the next day (today)) went to visit my GIAL advisor, my new professor, discussed my class, retreived my new textbook from the library, and went to visit with my PBT coach again. This does not include the time spent doing PD. Now it is lunch time. Only lunch time!
My course appears to be less than rigorous. My professor assigned me an 150 page book and gave me a week to read it. In previous classes at GIAL, I've been given 150 pages of reading to be completed in 2 days, not 7. Perhaps it'll pick up. This course is an independent study on Papuan Languages. My first book was an overview of Papuan Languages. My second is a classification of Madang languages (which is the province in which I will work). And books about the Cargo Cults which were formed in Madang will come soon.
It's good to be back. It's always fun to walk into a building that you're very familiar with after a long time. And studying linguistics again will be enjoyable as well. Counseling wasn't bad but it wasn't quite as fun as linguistics!