Week Update #2

This is an interesting moment to take in, as I write my update, and listen to the Muslim boys in the basement say their evening prayers. God works there too, and I pray that there is something that will let these wonderful people that God is also a gentle God, is a Father God, and sent His Son Jesus to take away sin. 

The past few days have flown by and have been full of different things that I've done so much that I feel like it's been weeks. And yet I have now been in Queens already and only a week. 

This past Saturday, I spend time working at a Food Pantry. I put carrots and potatoes in bags, and then handed then to some of the people that came to the Pantry. There were people from all sorts of ethnicities. African, Latino, Indian, Chinese, and Korean. Some were homeless, some looked like they were okay. Some looked like they needed this boost. I met several people that time. Pastor Conrad let me in, and he was very kind. There were a bunch of older ladies that were sweet, and very supportive. 

Mark took me to Main St. in Flushing, by the Queens library. There were people from StreetLife who were handing out tracts and talking to people. There was a man who was mad that they were in front of the library and called the cops, who thought that it was completely fine that they were there. Main Street looked like Beijing with all of the signs in Chinese and Korean all over the place. 

I went to the worship practice, and that was really fun, and good. I forgot how nice it was to be on a worship team, and how much I missed singing contemporary songs. It was also a pretty intense moment of worship, and I could feel God moving through all of us. 

Sunday morning arrived, and the service was longer than I'm used to. . that being said, it was still good, but I was losing my attention span towards the end, but God was still working there. 

All week I have been working at the After School Program--using my Spanish and getting better while I work with Denisa (pronounced DayNaysa) to help her comprehend English through my Spanish. It gets better everytime, but is also slightly frustrating when she misses a day. And of course, when I'm tired and can't help some of the kids. 

We have done some very intense planning for our Summer Day Camp. Christa and a very miniscule amount of my assistance made a flyer, and we have had a couple meetings about what we are going to do and have looked at our resources. It looks like we are going to have a trip to Camp Deerpark every week, and on the other days, have a free program in the morning, and a paid program in the afternoons. We are making it highly affordable and it's going to be awesome! (if of course, we get good staff and have enough energy, so pray for that!)

Yesterday when I walked over to Christa's house, I turned onto her street and walked toward a woman and a man who were discussing the large branches that were on the ground beside the car of a commuter and the woman looked at me and looked at me again and said, "You are the spitting image of my niece!" I introduced myself, and then had a bit of a conversation with her. She was very kind. Her name was also Grace, and her home was the place where people seemed to drop off animals that they didn't want... Like a cat lady... (Marie, my sister will get a kick out of this). But the sweet and awesome part is that this woman, when I told her about the program we were planning, said that she wanted some of the flyers to hand out to the working moms that she knew. So that was totally God working there. 

Today I have felt sick. My neck is sore, as is my throat and I didn't really have the energy to work with kids. We went over to PS 22 (Public School 22) and discussed and decided that Daniel, Christa, and I were going to go over to the school during lunch time and associate with the kids. Of course, I saw Ali, who is one of the boys who lives in the basement, and went and sat at his table for a little while. He's really kind, and a good kid. He introduced me to all of the people at the table, and that was fun. I could have stayed there with them for the entire time. It was SO loud in there. 

We continued to talk to Lili, the lady who was enthusiastic about us coming, and she was telling us that she was really encouraged for us to be there. And I felt like God was calling me, especially to be there, and that I could help, and I would love to do that. Though I was feeling all day, during the time I was there, there was some new found energy that God had given me. I just felt called to be there for those kids. The only thing is, the guidance--the example that they really need I can't give to them, because I'm not a man. 

They need male example, someone to be a father figure or a big brother with God in his heart leading him. And not just during lunch time--all day. And only God can bring that. Only God can bring Jesus into these schools. 

Prayer requests:

--That this cold thing will heal before my birthday, which is on Sunday.

--For my wonderful sweet neighbors. 

--For energetic AWESOME high schoolers to staff the day camp

--For the kids in the public schools of New York City, that they would have good examples.

--For energy and encouragement for the staff at the After School Program 

God is Good!

I cannot write a title without going into a new thought.

Of course, the past few blogs have been some serious writing. It's been more and more of that lately. I'm just a processing machine, and I guess my fingers know it and just write and write and write. 

Transitions. Moving back into the house for the third time. All my freaking stuff. I guess I'm going to takea lot less to NYC so this isn't such an issue when I have to ride the Greyhound bus. Three months--I can live out of a duffel bag, right? Right.


My sister, mom, fifth cousin, and I left the District after some serious packing the night and morning before. Emily checked my out of my room, after removing some very vital things out of my drawers that I almost left behind (random earplug? check. fingernail? check. Trash of many sorts? check.)


We were off--to Dulles, and brought Katie to her "home" and then headed on our way. Mom drove for the first half, and I was doing some serious crocheting on my "body bag" as Mom now calls it. We drove until lunch time. Then we stopped for gas, and I drove, mom feeding me my lunch from the passender seat--and it was hummus and veggies. So that was interesting while driving. I stopped driving around 3:30--we stopped at a travel plaza and Anna and I got Starbucks--and they had the Vegan Frappiccinos--I was so pumped. And it doesn't cost different so that is a huge benefit for me.  

I drove part of the way and drove really well--didn't go more than five over the speed limit--I do believe I've turned a new leaf... at least for the next three years. 


I got to talk to Zach on the phone on the way home. It was a great conversation. It was clarifying and saddening because we both feel sort of constricted on the construction of our relationship because his team has really strict rules for him about keeping in contact with me. But God is keeping both of us strong. 
And during the rest of the conversation, he made me laugh like crazy. I miss him so. I cannot wait to see him. I'm going to meet him at the airport when he comes home because I found out I could, I just don't know what day it is...I have three more conversations (we are allowed to talk once a month) to figure out when it is. 


Getting home was great. I'm on the floor now, and Anna is sleeping on the bed, but that's ok she's here longer than I am, and I'm comfortable with that. 


Just like Mom and Dad are embracing that I just want to eat plant products, they are embracing Anna's central america influence, but with a grain of salt. We went to Cheif, the Giant of Western Ohio, and found Pig's feet. 
I took one look at them, and said, "There is no way that we are getting those! Marie wouldn't eat that!" There were six frozen-limp legs, in a styrofoam package next to the loins and the chops--both of which have enough separation to them that people don't think that there is going to be much of an issue with eating them. It's in a convenient shape for cooking and eating, but you remove separation when you see the pigs feet. I see the not-grown up sized piggies, not being treated right in the PETA videos. . . and then I reacted... 

Time Flies?

Anna's been out of the U.S. for the entire semester with the Guatemala crosscultural. I feel like I haven't seen her in a long time, and I can't wait for her to return home. Yet, when I hear about the Middle East Cross Cultural, and that they are coming back in a week--the same thing, I barely think they have been gone at all. This may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I'm not emotionally close to anyone on that Cross Cultural, whereas I am close to Anna, Stacy, and somewhat to several others that are on the trip. So I guess that the time flies for those you don't think about.

Same thought, different people. There are several YES teams--Albania and Venezuela, I think--that are finishing up at the end of April. In fact, they will be debriefing with me when I enter training. Their time has flown. All of a sudden, the end of the semester is a week and a half away, and there is so much to show for it, but there is so much that is still shifting--still insecure--and I am shifting and insecure as well.
I think what I'm referring to are the different things going on this summer, and where I'm going to be with all of these, and if they are going to work out. One thought--I'm going to New York, and I'm over halfway funded. I know when I'm going into training, and I know when I'm arriving in New York, but I only have a little of an idea of what I will be doing. Also, I'm signed up to earn service learning credit hours for the three months I will be there.

The issue there is that I've been in communication with the woman in charge for almost the entire semester, and I feel like everything has been moving at snail speed, and I wish it was all clarified, and I knew which professor would be my mentor, and what type of reading I should be pursuing to satisfy that portion of the contract.
I've finally made a decision about my major, which makes life take a completely different path. I'm excited about this because suddenly there is a defined path with a street named "Grace --->" and I know which way to turn. I know that there is passion in this area. I know this because I could do these things for no money and be satisfied--I'm doing it now, paying for it.  This is like music for me. People are my other music, they challenge me to do different things, to try harder keys and progressions, and write different words. This is why I want to train in the field of Social Work. And I know this time is going to fly as well. Soon all of these classes are going to be satisfied, and I'm going to be shipped back to Washington D.C. for my senior practicum, and then onward, to another city, to do what God has glistened my life with. Love others.

We watched "The Count of Monte Cristo" after we got home from the game. I remember reading through the book--same title-- by Alexander Dumas, in eighth grade, and showing Casey the name of the author for his own entertainment. I remember reading it and loving it, though the Count chooses revenge--even over love and those begging for forgiveness. But while watching the movie, I also recalled how long it had been since I'd read the book. Five long years. Years of change, growth, Maturity. It's time to read "the Count" again.
It's interesting to me how we can become so enveloped into things we are interested in. They take our minds--imaginations-- and run with them, skipping through ideas, and dreams. The shiny facade of movies do that exactly. They stimulate our brains--but only to what we can follow within the story.
I'm a commenter. I think of things in the storyline that I find interesting, or funny, or relevant to something that it reminds me of, and I make it known. And I'm more likely to do it with someone that I know well. I've been reminded of this by Zach, and before, I actually wasn't aware that I was a commenter. It's something Dad does too--whenever he and Mom attend a church service that they are not involved in, he sits next to her, and during the sermon, he whispers his comments into her ear. It drives my mom crazy. So it's completely insane that I didn't know that I did this--unless it doesn't annoy Zach. Which I probably will end up asking him.. But I became aware of this tonight, while we were watching the movie, because Jess was sitting next to me, and she said, "Grace, if you whisper in my ear one more time.." Oops. Didn't mean to annoy you.  In relevance to what I've been talking about, this movie flew by, and before we knew it, it was ten to one, and I was still wide awake (probably due to the slight amount of mystery coffee that I added to my hot soy cocoa before I joined the movie clan).
Something to think about. I don't like wasting things, and of all of these, I hate wasting time. That being said, I hate the idea of missing out on things that are happening. For example, this summer, I'm not going to be able to work at Camp Luz. I'm not going to meet the new campers, whether Mini or Youth, or work with the new staff, and become a better facilitator. I'm going to miss it a lot, and miss the trusting deep friendships that occur only in that type of situation. But I also know that my time is not going to be wasted, and before I know it, I'm going to be leaving a new set of friends behind in NYC to come back to EMU, and stability and love. All of these things that I will also be leaving behind in NYC, and in D.C., and in Wauseon, and in Streetsboro. And eventually, EMU will be left behind. This too shall pass.
This time. And I don't want to waste it. Which brings me to my next point.
I see how some people are in need of a fix-a drug to make them open, or happy, or easy-to make their life worth living. But I don't--I can't stand the idea of being so wasted that you can't remember what happened. I can't stand the idea of spending so much money on drinks that you can't pay for the taxi home. I can't imagine being so drunk that you can't stand up straight or see where you are going. I've experienced fun with people--insane laughter, slap happy moments, and sleepless nights. And I remember them. Because I wanted to. And if these things are meant to happen, they will, and for me, I will try to make them remembered, because I don't want to have to worry that I'll ever do something I will regret.
I feel as if when I reach the age of twenty one, I will drink alcohol. But I will only do so if it is something I can enjoy. I hope that it will not become something social and something that I do to show how adventurous I am (this could be a weakness). I hope that I drink because I like the taste, and not for a buzz and a feeling. I hope that money I spend will be in moderation, as will the amount I consume.
I want to remember all that I've done and all that I've experienced. Time not remembered is time wasted, no matter what anyone tries to say.

I haven't stayed up this late, or this awake in a long time. I can finally say that I'm done with whatever illness ailed me, and that I am rather blessed to be filled with energy to do things with people. That time where I couldn't do anything because I was so tired was rather deteriorating to my mental state, and now I feel beautiful and happy, and I am really content. And now, I am going to church tomorrow. Thus I should sleep for a part of that, es verdad?