Some thoughts on abortion and how this world is in shambles

Very rarely do I post anything related to current events. Here's why: all the hot topics make people crazy. Friendships and family relationships are broken because of the stances people take on these issues. That's wild to me. It's wild to me that the current climate in this world, especially this country, is such that someone's belief about something doesn't usually lead to a mature conversation, it leads to people spouting what they believe without truly listening to what the other is saying and then relationships are irreparably damaged. A person's stance on a single topic can cause others to make assumptions about their entire personhood. When did this happen? How did we end up like this? I recently went to a panel on anti-racism and one of the panelists said that we will never be able to move forward until we learn to have empathy for those who don't look like us. And I think that this gets to the heart of a ton of the current issues. At their core, the issues aren't about abortion, race, politics, or immigration; the issue is that we don't have empathy for people who don't look, think, or live like we do. When someone says or does something that I don't agree with, this culture tells me that I have every right to ignore their words and to think of them as lesser human beings; I have every right to spout hate at them; I have every right to define their entire personhood by that one belief that they hold or by that one action that they took. What?! How is this not what everyone is talking about? How is this not what advocates for change are pushing for? 

I say all this because I think it's applicable to most all the crazy things happening in this world and country right now, but also because I want to establish that it's from this mindset that I'm writing what's next.

I don't think that abortions should happen. I think it's heartbreaking that women so often find themselves pregnant and unready or unwilling to bring that child into this world. But I don't think these restrictive laws will do anything whatsoever to address the reasons women find themselves in these situations, nor will they provide any support for the women forced to have these babies. I think that abortions will always happen, regardless of the laws surrounding them. I think that by taking away safe ways for women to have abortions, we're saying that the life of their baby is more important than theirs. I think that especially by only addressing abortions themselves and not putting any efforts into sex education, more accessible contraception, and social services for women who might not want to get an abortion but feel like it's the only real option for them, we're not actually valuing the lives involved, we're valuing our birthrate. I think that by making abortions entirely a women's issue and completely ignoring the role men play in getting women pregnant (I'll give you a hint, it's usually equal, if not more, than than the role women play), we're giving men a pass and backtracking so, so, so, so, so, so far in the work women and men alike have put into women's rights and equality over the years. I don't think that excluding women who have had or are planning to have abortions from the group we call "us" is the way to address the reasons there are so many abortions performed each year. I don't think abortion is right, but I do stuff that isn't right all the time, so who am I to judge?

I've seen so many memes and posts on social media in the last few days that have really resonated with me. I've seen things like "Hey GOP, these kids [in detention centers at the border] have a heartbeat, where's the legislation to protect them?"--"Why are we so adamant that a fetus is a human being when we're still not sure if African Americans are?"--"If men could get pregnant, abortions would be readily available at every gas station." This is trash. This shouldn't be. We don't have an abortion problem, we have an empathy for others problem.   

Are we fighting for issues or are we fighting for people? There's a huge difference.

   

Why being bilingual is a blessing and speaking Spanish is a curse

¿Cuándo voy a hablar en Inglés como ella? 

Es que no entiendo nada.

I teach English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL, for short) to adults. It's a blast! I never thought I'd enjoy a job as much as I love mine. I love getting to know my students and spending time with them as they chug along on their journey in pursuit of a solid handle on the English language. I love trying all the wonderful foods my students bring to our potlucks, I love having inside jokes with my classes, I love seeing how willing everyone is to help out their classmates even when there's a language barrier. I love seeing people gain more confidence in how they use English and I absolutely love hearing my students tell me about their successes. Many people assume that I teach kids, but I've never had that desire. Every time I've taught kids (or tried to), I've felt like a frustrated failure, like no one in the whole world could be worse suited for the job than me. During my master's program at UW, I got to teach a class in their international English program. It was so fun and I learned more than I ever could have dreamed I would, but I knew it wasn't the context in which I ultimately wanted to be teaching. These were students who came from all over the world to study English for a period of time and then move on, whether that meant going back home or moving on to another country. I knew my heart was with immigrants and refugees who were here for the long haul and who needed English skills to build a better life for themselves and their families. So that's where I looked after graduation and that's where I find myself now.

I studied Spanish for one year at Tacoma Community College while I was studying there through the Running Start program. I was 16. I loved it! I loved learning how to say things in another way, I loved that I knew something no one else in my family did (youngest child syndrome--always following in someone's footsteps and always trying to forge your own path), and I loved learning the rules and being able to do more than just repeat memorized sentences and phrases. After I got my BA, and before I started my MA, I went to Guatemala for a year to study more Spanish and to teach English (ain't nobody tryna spend the time and money on an MA if they don't know if they really wanna go into that field or not!). I took private Spanish lessons for 5 hours a day, 5 days a week, in addition to living in a not-so-touristy town where Spanish was almost always my only option for everyday survival. Having that experience, having to use Spanish to get where I needed to go on the bus, rent an apartment, renew my visa, perform transactions at the bank, rent rooms for my family when they came to visit, get the meats I wanted from the butcher, etc. really gave me an idea of what my students today are going through. Of course, I didn't experience even the beginning of what they all are going through. I wasn't fleeing my home country, or even leaving my home and my comfort seeking a better life for my family. I was just trying to experience the world while I killed a year of time (not really, there was more intentionality involved than just that). But I had to learn Spanish by using it and, in that sense, I understand where my students are coming from. I think this really helps me in my teaching. I think that by having learned out of necessity and forcing myself into situations outside of my comfort zone and always having to negotiate for meaning, I can empathize with my students in their struggle to always be negotiating for meaning. I believe that I have been made into a better teacher for having experienced language learning in a foreign land.

Here's the kicker: the majority of my students come from Spanish speaking nations. I'm constantly struggling between making a better connection with them by revealing that I speak Spanish and forcing them to use English as much as possible by not revealing my familiarity with the language. Most of my students know I spent time in Guatemala and that I speak Spanish and sometimes I regret them having this knowledge. You see, I have this belief that you learn a language better if you use it and I have a few students who will only speak to me in Spanish, despite me always responding in English. I have some students who use my Spanish as a crutch and refuse to let go, even though they ask me almost daily when their English will improve (in Spanish, of course). I have some students who continually tell me they don't understand (in Spanish) and then continue to ask me question upon question about what we've been working on in the lesson because they didn't understand and, instead of letting themselves be comfortable with not understanding everything, they chatted with their neighbor during the whole lesson. You see, I have this other belief that it's not fair to all of my students who don't speak Spanish for me to re-explain everything in Spanish. It is not a beneficial use of class time for them, plus it doesn't push the Spanish speakers to be uncomfortable, to be stretched. I am at constant battle within myself because I know that I could easily explain something in Spanish and I know that my student would be grateful in the moment, but I also know that doing this robs them of an opportunity to learn and I also think that doing this doesn't push me to be the kind of teacher I want to be. 

So there's my dilemma. I know that I'm a better teacher for having learned a second language in a place where I needed that language to survive, but sometimes I wish I had learned a language that isn't so common. Sometimes I wish I had all the experiences that make me a better teacher, without having an easy out for a lot of my students. I also recognize that, by speaking Spanish, I do have a stronger connection with my Spanish speaking students. I recognize that it's a bit easier for me to build rapport with them and, when I'm teaching, I know which English words to use that are similar enough to Spanish words that my students will understand. I am not trying to discount the advantages that Spanish affords me. I'm just trying to be the best teacher that I can be for all of my students and I don't think that means allowing my Spanish to be used as a crutch.  

A man after God's own heart

If you've ever met my grandpa, you know the kind of man he was. If you've never met him, but you've heard me talk about him, you know how important he was in my life. You know that he loved Jesus with his whole life and you know that he lived generosity and humility every moment of every day. You know that he had seemingly unending patience (I sure do! I'm pretty sure I wasn't the easiest child to deal with sometimes, but he always had grace to extend to me) and that he always had something sweet to share, whether it was candy, donuts, ice cream, or a sweet word. You know that he had the best practical jokes and you've never looked at a pancake the same way since the first time you had his pancakes. If you've ever met my grandpa, you probably loved him. You know that he lived his whole life waiting for the day when he would meet Jesus. If you've ever met my grandpa, you know that he will be incredibly missed by all who knew him. But you know that he died in faith, not having received the things promised and that he's now in heaven, with more joy than he could have ever dreamed of and he's received all that was promised and more. If you've ever met my grandpa, you know that he and my grandma were like two halves of a whole and that he'd been missing her something fierce for the last two and a half years. If you'd spent time with my grandpa during those two and a half years, you know the he sometimes couldn't remember that she was gone and often thought that she'd gone on some trip and hadn't called for months. If you'd spent time with my grandpa during that time, your heart broke every time he said something along those lines. You know that, even in his memory-challenged state, he was never unsure about what God had called him to here on earth. If you've ever met my grandpa, your heart is overflowing with joy on his behalf because everything that he ever hoped for, everything he ever dreamed about, everything he ever worked toward, has come to fruition. If you've ever met my grandpa, you can easily picture him walking up to the throne of God for the first time and hearing God welcome him saying, "well done, My good and faithful servant."



Never have I known another such man. Never have I seen another such love for others. All others. Never have I heard another man preach the love of Jesus with such conviction. Never have I seen such generosity. Incredible generosity. Heaven got to welcome home the best of the best on Good Friday. The sacrifice of Jesus and His victorious resurrection had never meant as much to me before as it did this year. My heart is sad that I won't get to see my grandpa and tell him that I love him and hold his hand again this side of heaven, but my sadness is nothing compared to the joy I know that he is currently experiencing. How can I nurse a broken heart when I know that his is fuller than it's ever been? I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to go visit my grandpa every year for the past few years. I'm so grateful that I got to tell him that I loved him every time I left and that every time I left, I knew it could be the last, so I never wasted a goodbye. I'm grateful for the time I got to spend with both of my grandparents and for everything that they taught me. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without having them around and I am so full of joy knowing that they are together again, and with God, whom they lived their entire lives for. My heart is broken and full and that's ok.

Mom!

Train up a child in the way they should go;

even when they are old they will not depart from it.

Proverbs 22:6

My mom is the best of the best! She raised me to respect others, to love people the way Jesus loves people, to clean up after myself, to take responsibility for my actions, to be independent, to have a passion for life, to have patience with people, to listen well, to be a good student.....the list could go on. Who I am today has been shaped quite extensively because of her. But here's something I've been thinking about recently (not, by any means, for the first time): I have a lot of moms. There are so many women who have poured into my life throughout the years: my stepmom, grandma, aunts, Sunday school teachers, friends' moms, youth group leaders, camp moms...again, the list could go on. I have been surrounded for my whole life by the most amazing women who have taught me more than I will ever fully realize. All of these women have cared about me enough to give me advice, invite me into their homes, include me in their comings and goings, pray for me, laugh with me, teach me life lessons, and even cry with me at times.

My mom never ceases to amaze me. She raised us four crazy kids, she taught us at home until we started college (sure, she gave us a little push to do Running Start so that college would come a bit earlier for us...), she ran us all over town for our various sports and play dates (do people still say that?) and youth groups, and she always, always modeled for us the love of Jesus. But one of the greatest gifts she has given me was letting these other women step in sometimes. Now, bear with me here, letting might sound a little controlling, but I think there's a certain grace that's needed to open up the door to your kids' lives and let other adults pour into them. And maybe I'm just being an oblivious kid here and thinking that my mom had absolutely no problem handing over the reins from time to time, but I think we all know that one parent that keeps their kids locked away (not literally!...I hope) so that they're the only ones who can have an influence on them. My mom was not one of those parents and I couldn't be more grateful to her for that (and my dad too, but this is about mother's day and moms so....for another time). 

I've done a lot of things in my life without my mom holding my hand the whole time. I think I'm naturally a pretty independent person (you wouldn't know it from the fact that I still live with my dad...but, again, for another time) and my mom has never tried to squelch that. She's supported all my big life decisions, even if she was maybe a bit apprehensive about some of them (like me going to Guatemala by myself for a year), and I don't know that she's ever told me I can't do something (as an adult, I'm sure as a child she told me I couldn't do a lot of things...like touch the hot stove). Basically, what I'm trying to say is that my mom is bomb.com and so is every woman who has taken the time to do life with me. 

Happy Mother's Day to you wonderful, wonderful women!! 

I am who I am today and I have the dreams and goals that I have because of who you are and the impacts that you have had on my life. There will never be enough words to express my gratitude.

My cup overflows

I lived in Guatemala from December 2012 until November 2013, teaching English, working on my Spanish, and learning how to live far outside my comfort zone. Coming home was really hard; I felt like a big part of me was being left behind in Guatemala. So I started to think about how I could

Kevin, Jeferson, Me

continue my relationship with the country. Of course, I still had lots of friends there that I would keep in touch with, but I wanted another connection. So about a year and a half ago I started to look into sponsoring a child in Guatemala through Compassion International. I figured I would be able to connect a little better with a child in Guatemala because we'd automatically have something in common, plus it would be far more likely for me to able to meet this child in person because I knew I'd be back in Guatemala some day. Well, that day came and I met Jeferson and his family and I don't know if I can fully describe it.
I had kind of high expectations. I've read so many stories of people meeting their sponsor children and it changing them forever, being the experience of a lifetime. Needless to say, I was really really really looking forward to our meeting. I had to arrange the visit through Compassion and do a background check and all that jazz before they approved my visit, and once they approved the visit they had to set me up with one of their employees in Guatemala City to be the visit "host" (translator, Compassion representative, ensuring the security of both parties, etc). When I got the itinerary and projected costs, I was a little disappointed. I only got to spend a few hours with Jeferson and I was going to have to pay about $450 after all was said and done, but I knew this was what I wanted to do, so there was no backing out.

Back row: Grandma, Mom, Grandma
Front: Jeferson, me, Kevin

I was staying in Xela ([Quetzaltenango, if you're looking on a map] where I lived in 2013) and my host was coming from Guatemala City. We were to meet Jeferson and his family in Huehuetenango. I was planning to take a bus from Xela to Huehue and meet everyone there, but Mayra (my host) called me just before I left and said she could pick me up on her way since she was driving the car that I was essentially renting. Great. So I met her at Cuatro Caminos (a crossroads about 20 minutes from Xela that heads in the directions of Huehue, Totonicapan, Guatemala City, and Xela) and we began our drive. It's about an hour and a half in car from Cuatro Caminos to Huehue. We chatted, she said my Spanish was really good and loved that I talk like a Guatemalan, and we arrived at McDonald's to meet the fam. I was a combination of nervous and ecstatic. When we walked into the restaurant and I saw them it was weird. I thought I would be filled with this overwhelming joy, but it was kinda awkward actually. I mean, it was like meeting people.....and meeting people isn't really my favorite thing. I mean, Jeferson awkwardly hugged my waist after much prodding from his mom, grandmas, and the coordinator of his student center, I then met his brother, Kevin, we took a bunch of obligatory photos, and we all sat down to chat. I'm not even kidding you, I couldn't think of a single thing to say! I was feeling really disappointed that there wasn't this incredible connection between us and I couldn't believe we still had like 5 hours together.

Kevin, Ronald McDonald, Jeferson, Me

We ate our food and...it was nice, We adults had nice conversation, y'know, as much as you can when no one really knows each other. I thought it was really sweet that Jeferson's mom, Candy, was asking me about my family, all the people she'd only seen in pictures. Especially Mina, she asked about her a lot. And as we were heading out to go to the student center, Candy gave me a purse they'd bought for me. They bought me a gift. That was supposed to be my job! To buy them gifts. We got in the car and everything changed. The boys got really chatty, telling jokes, asking me to tell jokes. We started chewing this gum that has a tattoo on every wrapper and they gave me a couple tattoos and put a few on themselves too. This. I thought, this is what I was hoping for. When we got to the student center....if I were one to cry easily, I would've been bawling. All of the children and volunteers had created a welcome line for me and started cheering when I walked in, they had a big sign that said Bienvenida Lisa Chanthavisay (Welcome), Jeferson gave me this awesome photo album he'd made with pictures of his family, and each class had prepared a small performance for me. They showed me around all of the classrooms and showed me where all the girls ages 12+ learn to sew (but like, beautiful beautiful stuff) and where all the boys ages 12+ do wood shop (again, beautiful pieces). Then, when we were about to leave, they called Mayra and I up onto the stage to thank us for coming to visit. They gave us each a basket of cookies and a wooden spoon that they boys had made, and the girls gave me a beautiful red apron they'd made. How was it that when I went there to bless them, they were actually the ones blessing me?

From there we went to Jeferson's home. Again, the car ride was all laughs and selfies. I think what shocked me the most when we got to their house was that it was just like all the other houses. What I mean to say is, it wasn't like "Oh my gosh, you live in a shack!" it was a normal, small town Guatemalan house. Which, to be fair, most of the houses are pretty scrappy...but I mean, it was something I was already used to. What I wondered was, if their house is just like all the others, how many more people need help? Jeferson was so excited to show me his bed though. He grabbed my hand and pulled me through their small living room and into their small bedroom, furnished with two beds, a television, and some shelves. He proudly jumped onto his bed telling me that's where he slept and pointed to the bed right next to it (and I mean literally, right next to it) saying that's where his parents slept. In that same structure were the living quarters of Jeferson's grandparents.
We then drove about 10 minutes to his other grandparents' house, where Kevin lives, and I met more of their family. Kevin too, was so excited to show me where he slept and where his grandparents slept. Then they wanted to take me up the hill a bit to this great viewpoint of all of Chiantla and part of  Huehue, but the boys really wanted to play soccer so we went back down and played for a few minutes. Unfortunately, I'm not so good at soccer, plus the elevation was killing my lungs, but all the same it was so fun to just be playing soccer with these little kids I'd just met, but by now was definitely feeling that connection with.

Jeferson, Me, Mayra

My gifts :)

Before I knew it, it was time to go, and I couldn't believe how the time had flown and how I felt like even though I had come with the intention to bless, I was in fact the one leaving with a cup overflowing with blessings. It was so awkward at first, and I was getting frustrated with myself for having had such high expectations, but by the time I was getting in the car to leave this family behind, I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, overflowing, and feeling like there was now an even larger portion of my heart being left in Guatemala. I don't know what it is about a child grabbing your hand and pulling you with excitement to show you something, or a group of children gathering around you asking you to say the numbers or colors in English and then being totally amazed when you also know the numbers in Mam (the Mayan language in the Huehue area), or being showered with gifts from people who you were trying to shower gifts upon, or being prayed for by people you've just met....I don't know what it is. But it's incredible. I spend more on my rock climbing gym membership every month than I do sponsoring Jeferson, and yet, the welcome I received in every place while visiting him made me feel like I was Bill Gates and I'd just donated a brand new student center to them, fully equipped with all of the latest technology. It doesn't take a whole lot to impact a lot of lives, I've learned. God takes what you have to offer and He multiplies it, He turns it into something beautiful. Luke 6:38 (NLT) says, "Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full--pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back." I knew this in my head before I went, I'd experienced God's blessing before I went, God's provision, but I never expected to be on the receiving end of this. I never expected to feel like the one walking away completely full and overflowing. All I can say is that God is always good and I am always loved.

A good chunk of the family