Let's just be honest here: language barriers are annoying. And seeing as I chose BA for the very purpose of becoming fluent in Spanish, it's been quite humbling realizing just how far I have to go before that goal is achieved.
Every conversation, except those with other Pepperdine students, takes my being on my absolute A-game and literally thinking before I say anything. (A good lesson, I concede, but a bit frustrating when one's vocabulary is sufficiently limited.) And though speaking English is refreshing, a whole day spent with other students just makes coming home to converse with Inés and Gerardo more difficult. I want so badly to connect with the people of this city and to understand their culture, but it is immensely frustrating to be so hindered by a language barrier. I became quite exhausted by the whole thing yesterday, fearing that my homestay parents think I'm timid/introverted/(rude, even?) because, though I can understand the large majority of what they tell me, I often find myself without much to say at the dinner table. I was journaling about my discouragement last night, and, appropriately, experienced a much needed come-to-Jesus.
I was reading Ecclesiastes 3 (an incredibly encouraging passage, in light of the past week's events), and there it was:
"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot...
a time to be silent and a time to speak..."
Solomon, wisest one, you seem to have written this exactly for my current time and place. I was firmly planted at home this summer, but now I have been uprooted; I am accustomed to speaking my mind and being readily understood, yet I now find myself silent and struggling to voice my thoughts. And as if finding that my situation in general has already been addressed by a king who lived millenia ago wasn't enough, there were two specific elements of this passage that struck me with great encouragement: firstly, this is only a "time" -- this period of frustration with said language barrier is only temporary, and certainly will not last forever. I will learn this language, I will connect with these people, and I will develop a deeper relationship with my host family. All will come in time. The second point of encouragement came with the realization that, though contrary to my natural tendencies, it really is okay to just be silent sometimes. I treasure communication and understand its vitality to every relationship, but it is true that some times of silence are, well, golden.
This whole concept of being okay with my current state of limited communication was further explained during a "coincidental" encounter Brittany and I had in the local jardín botánico this afternoon. We were approached by a man who needed to borrow a pen to write down an address; two hours later, we were deep in conversation with Roberto, a local business professor who teaches Spanish classes to international students in his free time. He was very patient with us, speaking English in part to help us understand but mostly encouraging us to practice our Spanish with him. He gently corrected our grammatical errors and gave us tips on conquering the 4 most difficult Spanish concepts for estadounidenses (people from the U.S.): por vs. para, ser vs. estar, "r" vs. "rr," and the pronunciation of las vocales (vowels). The best tip he gave us, though, was to listen intently to the people around us: "If you listen to other accents, other vocabulary, you will learn this language much more quickly. And if you pay attention to the way the people around you speak, you will mimick their pronunciation and learn to speak Spanish correctly."
As Brittany and I left the garden, it became clear that Roberto's advice connected directly to Ecclesiastes 3:7. Not only are there times to be silent, but to make the most of those times, we must listen for the things we are to learn from them. This time of frustration -- the "waiting room" for God's answer, as Christian musicians Shane&Shane have called it -- is from the Lord, and He truly has a time for everything.
There is a time for me to be confused, and a time for me to understand. There is time for me to feel comfortable, and a time for me to be pushed far beyond my comfort zone. And there is a time for me to ask questions and speak my mind, and a time for me to be still and silent and listen. Though I so often desire for these seasons to come by my own time frame, God's timing is intentional and will certainly be proven perfect. I just must be willing to be still and wait.
"Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."
- Psalm 46:10
Abrazos from abroad,
Margaret
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Growing Pains
It always amazes me how, though I ask the Lord to stretch and grow me, I am so prone to complaining about the discomfort growth often brings. Tonight, this discomfort came in the form of culture shock. ...Que bueno.
I came here with the intent of not only knowing the exterior of Buenos Aires, but with the desire to know the needs of its people -- a far less glamorous part of this city -- as well. I knew that volunteering in the community would be a great means of exposure to that, so I was extremely excited when Rafa, our program director, informed all of us that service learning is a huge component of our time in BA.
Last weekend was our first service learning experience. Our whole group went out to Adulam -- a small, Christian, socialist community on the outskirts of BA -- last weekend, where we helped the 20 or so families there plant gardens, move brush, and clean up their land. Though at face value none of us had a thing in common with the people of Adulam, we soon realized that despite the language barrier and profound difference in economic status, our brotherhood in Christ was common ground enough for an incredibly rewarding experience.
I left Adulam feeling so encouraged, both by the spirit of the people there and by the evidence of my entire group's heart for service. After sharing the day together, my friends Brittany and Hannah and I agreed that continuing to get involved with the local community was a priority for all of us. So, when the opportunity to make and deliver sandwiches for the families at El Hospital de Niños was mentioned yesterday, we all decided to dive headfirst into BA service learning, part deux. Seven other students signed up for the activity tonight; the ten of us made about 100 sandwiches, met up with Fernando (a local man who frequently volunteers at the hospital), and headed out to deliver food to the families who stayed overnight with their children.
As we pulled up to El Hospital in the midst of a torrential downpour, I quickly realized that my idea of a typical children's hospital (something like Texas Children's in Downtown Houston) was incredibly inaccurate in this situation. El Hospital de Niños is revered in Argentina as the best of its kind; families from all over South America come to get help for their sick children, and none of them are charged for the care at the public facility. However revered by the Argentine people, though, this hospital would have been shut down ages ago, were it in the United States. The facilities seemed ancient; mothers slept workout mats on the floor by their children's beds, several families shared rooms without privacy curtains, and despite the kind doctors and overall good intentions evident in the halls, "standard" sanitation seemed to have been lost in translation. It was amazing to me how different our standards of living must be, for all of these families to come to this hospital to receive the "best" care possible for their children. Furthermore, it hurt my heart to see the mothers of precious children, many less than a year old, trying to stay strong without family or any support system near. Though our first offer of the sandwiches was commonly refused with a "No no, está bien, ya cené (I've already eaten dinner)," a second offer found the mothers not only accepting one sandwich, but asking for 2, 3, or even more, to be saved till lunchtime tomorrow or for the family members coming later. Armed with nothing more than my bag of meagerly-dressed baguettes, I found that praying with the mothers I met and asking for the Lord's peace and healing in their families was the only way I could feel any power at all; though they couldn't understand my English words, prayers were my only means of assistance, as nothing I myself could do would improve their situations.
I know that God was so present in that hospital tonight, but the sadness I felt in my heart when I left was undeniable. Though there is so much beauty to this city, there is so much behind its walls that daily cries out in desperation for the grace of God to save it. I have become so numb to what it truly means to feel desperate the Lord, but I was quickly reminded of how helpless we are without Him. The culture shock brought on by tonight was unexpected, yet I know it comes with purpose. There is pain that comes with seeing the needs of others, but there is so much hope that comes with knowing the One who can satisfy them. As I continue to seek out areas of service in this city, I know the Lord will continue to show me just how much I need him. And even with the discomfort that comes with growing pains, I trust that the Lord will use them to stretch me and mold me into exactly the person He desires for me to be.
"Yet, O LORD, you are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand."
- Isaiah 64:8
Love from Abroad,
Margaret
I came here with the intent of not only knowing the exterior of Buenos Aires, but with the desire to know the needs of its people -- a far less glamorous part of this city -- as well. I knew that volunteering in the community would be a great means of exposure to that, so I was extremely excited when Rafa, our program director, informed all of us that service learning is a huge component of our time in BA.
Last weekend was our first service learning experience. Our whole group went out to Adulam -- a small, Christian, socialist community on the outskirts of BA -- last weekend, where we helped the 20 or so families there plant gardens, move brush, and clean up their land. Though at face value none of us had a thing in common with the people of Adulam, we soon realized that despite the language barrier and profound difference in economic status, our brotherhood in Christ was common ground enough for an incredibly rewarding experience.
I left Adulam feeling so encouraged, both by the spirit of the people there and by the evidence of my entire group's heart for service. After sharing the day together, my friends Brittany and Hannah and I agreed that continuing to get involved with the local community was a priority for all of us. So, when the opportunity to make and deliver sandwiches for the families at El Hospital de Niños was mentioned yesterday, we all decided to dive headfirst into BA service learning, part deux. Seven other students signed up for the activity tonight; the ten of us made about 100 sandwiches, met up with Fernando (a local man who frequently volunteers at the hospital), and headed out to deliver food to the families who stayed overnight with their children.
As we pulled up to El Hospital in the midst of a torrential downpour, I quickly realized that my idea of a typical children's hospital (something like Texas Children's in Downtown Houston) was incredibly inaccurate in this situation. El Hospital de Niños is revered in Argentina as the best of its kind; families from all over South America come to get help for their sick children, and none of them are charged for the care at the public facility. However revered by the Argentine people, though, this hospital would have been shut down ages ago, were it in the United States. The facilities seemed ancient; mothers slept workout mats on the floor by their children's beds, several families shared rooms without privacy curtains, and despite the kind doctors and overall good intentions evident in the halls, "standard" sanitation seemed to have been lost in translation. It was amazing to me how different our standards of living must be, for all of these families to come to this hospital to receive the "best" care possible for their children. Furthermore, it hurt my heart to see the mothers of precious children, many less than a year old, trying to stay strong without family or any support system near. Though our first offer of the sandwiches was commonly refused with a "No no, está bien, ya cené (I've already eaten dinner)," a second offer found the mothers not only accepting one sandwich, but asking for 2, 3, or even more, to be saved till lunchtime tomorrow or for the family members coming later. Armed with nothing more than my bag of meagerly-dressed baguettes, I found that praying with the mothers I met and asking for the Lord's peace and healing in their families was the only way I could feel any power at all; though they couldn't understand my English words, prayers were my only means of assistance, as nothing I myself could do would improve their situations.
I know that God was so present in that hospital tonight, but the sadness I felt in my heart when I left was undeniable. Though there is so much beauty to this city, there is so much behind its walls that daily cries out in desperation for the grace of God to save it. I have become so numb to what it truly means to feel desperate the Lord, but I was quickly reminded of how helpless we are without Him. The culture shock brought on by tonight was unexpected, yet I know it comes with purpose. There is pain that comes with seeing the needs of others, but there is so much hope that comes with knowing the One who can satisfy them. As I continue to seek out areas of service in this city, I know the Lord will continue to show me just how much I need him. And even with the discomfort that comes with growing pains, I trust that the Lord will use them to stretch me and mold me into exactly the person He desires for me to be.
"Yet, O LORD, you are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand."
- Isaiah 64:8
Love from Abroad,
Margaret
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Home-Away-From-Home
Never in a million years did I think living in a strange country, in an apartment room 1/3 the size of mine at home, with host parents I barely know, would be something I'd be enjoying by my sixth day in Argentina. I am so, SO happy to report, though, that Maria Inés and Gerardo have proved that assumption to be completely false. In wondering about my host family before I arrived here, two of my main concerns were, as laughing is such a key component of my family dynamic at home, that a) I'd have a hard time conveying my sense of humor due to the language barrier, and that b) regardless of my capability to hacer chistes, they wouldn't think I'm funny (hard to imagine, I know...). Though they only speak a few words of English (or so they say -- according to Gerardo, his vocabulary is limited to "Happy birthday!"), I've found that they have a great sense of humor -- the first of many components that have made me feel so at "home" already.
Apparently, the Coyegos think I'm a good fit too, as they're not afraid to joke with me about my first day here. They tell me how I seemed so nerviosa, and how I nodded my head and said "sí," even when they knew I didn't understand what they were saying... which I must admit, was probably pretty humorous to them. They really have made my learning Spanish a priority, though, and have told me that they'll gladly repeat anything más despacio so I can better understand them.
I met all of Inés' family 2 nights ago when they came over for a belated celebration of her birthday. While it was a bit overwhelming to meet a dozen new people who don't speak my language and, in turn, be expected to contribute to their conversations, I really enjoyed their company and felt like I kept up with the dialogue surprisingly well, for my third day here. I was really encouraged, too, when her mom, daughter, and sister -- all having met her previous homestay students -- told me my Spanish was better than any of the others. Inés has since told me that both my speaking and understanding have improved even since then; whoever said immersion was the best way to fluency apparently knew what he was talking about!
Though my first few days here have been incredible, I'll readily admit, it has been really hard being away from my family since I found out Nina (my maternal grandmother) passed away on Sunday night. But while I wouldn't wish that news upon anyone, dealing with everything has really been okay. Inés and Gerardo have been far more comforting and understanding than I ever could've expected. Even after skipping dinner last night (due both to having eaten only a few hours earlier and to simply not feeling emotionally up to brain-exhaustive, translate-every-word conversation), Inés brought me a plate of apple torta and helado. She said she knew that something dulce would make me feel better... She already knows me so well! Her making an effort to check on me (and bringing me dessert) was further indication that I really can have a home-away-from-home here; I hope someday my Spanish is good enough to tell her just how much it meant to me.
___________________________
Besides getting to know my host parents, I have spent the past several days exploring, both with the group and by myself, and have seen so much of the city already. I've gotten lost... well, several times -- I like to call them "growth experiences"... but in doing so have made a great mental map of Buenos Aires! I've figured out the subte (subway) and colectivo (bus) systems, have found & joined a local gimnasio, and have already found a great pair of botas de cuero. What can I say? I love this place!!
I am looking forward to starting normal classes tomorrow and, as promised, will be posting pictures very soon. In the meantime, please pray that I'll continue to become more comfortable with my host parents, that I will enjoy this city more with each experience, and that I will rely more fully upon the Lord with each day that passes. Though I miss my family greatly and wish I could be there for Nina's funeral, I know I am here for a reason and am praying that this time away will be full of growth and a better knowledge of the incredible sovereignty of God.
"...but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."
- Romans 5:3-5
Love from abroad,
Margaret
Apparently, the Coyegos think I'm a good fit too, as they're not afraid to joke with me about my first day here. They tell me how I seemed so nerviosa, and how I nodded my head and said "sí," even when they knew I didn't understand what they were saying... which I must admit, was probably pretty humorous to them. They really have made my learning Spanish a priority, though, and have told me that they'll gladly repeat anything más despacio so I can better understand them.
I met all of Inés' family 2 nights ago when they came over for a belated celebration of her birthday. While it was a bit overwhelming to meet a dozen new people who don't speak my language and, in turn, be expected to contribute to their conversations, I really enjoyed their company and felt like I kept up with the dialogue surprisingly well, for my third day here. I was really encouraged, too, when her mom, daughter, and sister -- all having met her previous homestay students -- told me my Spanish was better than any of the others. Inés has since told me that both my speaking and understanding have improved even since then; whoever said immersion was the best way to fluency apparently knew what he was talking about!
Though my first few days here have been incredible, I'll readily admit, it has been really hard being away from my family since I found out Nina (my maternal grandmother) passed away on Sunday night. But while I wouldn't wish that news upon anyone, dealing with everything has really been okay. Inés and Gerardo have been far more comforting and understanding than I ever could've expected. Even after skipping dinner last night (due both to having eaten only a few hours earlier and to simply not feeling emotionally up to brain-exhaustive, translate-every-word conversation), Inés brought me a plate of apple torta and helado. She said she knew that something dulce would make me feel better... She already knows me so well! Her making an effort to check on me (and bringing me dessert) was further indication that I really can have a home-away-from-home here; I hope someday my Spanish is good enough to tell her just how much it meant to me.
___________________________
Besides getting to know my host parents, I have spent the past several days exploring, both with the group and by myself, and have seen so much of the city already. I've gotten lost... well, several times -- I like to call them "growth experiences"... but in doing so have made a great mental map of Buenos Aires! I've figured out the subte (subway) and colectivo (bus) systems, have found & joined a local gimnasio, and have already found a great pair of botas de cuero. What can I say? I love this place!!
I am looking forward to starting normal classes tomorrow and, as promised, will be posting pictures very soon. In the meantime, please pray that I'll continue to become more comfortable with my host parents, that I will enjoy this city more with each experience, and that I will rely more fully upon the Lord with each day that passes. Though I miss my family greatly and wish I could be there for Nina's funeral, I know I am here for a reason and am praying that this time away will be full of growth and a better knowledge of the incredible sovereignty of God.
"...but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."
- Romans 5:3-5
Love from abroad,
Margaret
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Crossing the Threshold
For the past year and a half, my life has been, ironically, a constant state of change. And while the transition periods between the titles of high-school graduate, sister-in-law, college freshman, and first-time aunt were seemingly nonexistent, I have found life to unfailingly become far sweeter with the passing of each new milestone. I guess it's appropriate, then, that just as I'm getting used to being called "Aunt Margo" (by the rest of the family... Cade's not quite there yet), it's time for another life-changing event to take place.
Enter: First semester abroad in Buenos Aires.
I've only been here for a matter of hours, but I am already in love with this city. Though I'm not all too fond of being shamelessly stared at as I explore the city in the company of 10+ rubias (fair-skinned, light-haired girls), I can already sense the locals' unique balance of cultural pride and hospitality to foreigners. As we meandered the calles in attempts to acquaint ourselves with the neighborhood surrounding Casa Holden, I couldn't help but think of what Bilbo Baggins had to say about crossing the threshold into the unknown:
Here I am, finally in the city I've spent the past 2 1/2 years dreaming about. I've stepped out of my door and into a completely different culture, and there's no map to tell me just where this road is leading. Despite all the uncertainties that are a part of this journey, though, I am so comforted by the one aspect of this experience of which I'm completely certain: for the next 2 semesters, Buenos Aires is exactly where I am supposed to be.
For the next 3 months, I'll be living in a foreign culture, trying to get a handle on a different language, and probably committing social faux-pas far more often than I'm aware. However, though I may not know what's awaiting around the corner, I can hardly begin to explain the incredible comfort I find in knowing my time in Argentina is that of great purpose. When I sense even the faintest bit of culture shock or frustration with the language barrier beginning to set in, I am humbly reminded that this whole experience is for something far greater than my Spanish fluency or cultural immersion. Though everything seems foreign to me, I find confidence in the constant nature of the One who has brought me here. And while I may stumble on the cobblestone, time and time again, He will always help me keep my feet.
Love from Abroad (and pictures to come!),
Margaret
Enter: First semester abroad in Buenos Aires.
I've only been here for a matter of hours, but I am already in love with this city. Though I'm not all too fond of being shamelessly stared at as I explore the city in the company of 10+ rubias (fair-skinned, light-haired girls), I can already sense the locals' unique balance of cultural pride and hospitality to foreigners. As we meandered the calles in attempts to acquaint ourselves with the neighborhood surrounding Casa Holden, I couldn't help but think of what Bilbo Baggins had to say about crossing the threshold into the unknown:
“It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to."- The Fellowship of the Ring
For the next 3 months, I'll be living in a foreign culture, trying to get a handle on a different language, and probably committing social faux-pas far more often than I'm aware. However, though I may not know what's awaiting around the corner, I can hardly begin to explain the incredible comfort I find in knowing my time in Argentina is that of great purpose. When I sense even the faintest bit of culture shock or frustration with the language barrier beginning to set in, I am humbly reminded that this whole experience is for something far greater than my Spanish fluency or cultural immersion. Though everything seems foreign to me, I find confidence in the constant nature of the One who has brought me here. And while I may stumble on the cobblestone, time and time again, He will always help me keep my feet.
31For who is God, but the LORD?
And who is a rock, except our God,
32The God who girds me with strength
And makes my way blameless?
33He makes my feet like hinds' feet,
And sets me upon my high places.
- Psalm 18: 31-33
And who is a rock, except our God,
32The God who girds me with strength
And makes my way blameless?
33He makes my feet like hinds' feet,
And sets me upon my high places.
- Psalm 18: 31-33
Love from Abroad (and pictures to come!),
Margaret
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