In May of 2010 we the Interns and some people from our church got to go to Peru. One of our pastor's goes there quiet often so we already had a connection (plus at least two previous Intern classes had gone as well). We had spent from January until we left practicing Drimes and preparing to do some VBS (Vacation Bible School). However our main goal of going down there was to help one Pastor build his church. He had plans for a three story building, the main level for the church, the middle for offices and such, and the third for him and his (soon to be) wife and some church employee's to live in. (And even then, his testimony of how he got the land his church is on, and even how they got the materials to make the building they had already then was so amazing)
The trip started out the way any Intern trip must start out. With a ride in Marge, the church van. That was to the airport where we boarded a plane to Huston Texas. From there was the plane to Lima Peru. We stayed the night at a hotel there and then the next morning got on a bus. Oh the bus. It's pretty much a double-decker Greyhound-esk bus, where the bottom deck was "First Class" (had bigger seats, and less of them) and on the top deck was the rest of us. (Our two lovely second years, PC and the building crew from church got the lower deck, the rest of us where up top. I really liked it up there). And then it was a bus trip up the mountain. Up up up. And then up some more. We stopped at this one place for lunch. That was good food. Just saying. And then we took the bus down the other side of the mountain until we reached La Merced Peru. The little town that I fell in love with.
I think out of all three of my overseas missions trips, Peru is the first place that I would go back to if given the choice. Cambodia would be a close second. I fell in love with the people there, and the pace of the city, and the heat and well - I just loved it.
Pretty much, our day's from there on out followed a continuous routine. Get up (we were staying at this nice hotel, two to a room. I was rooming with Eva) have breakfast, slather yourself in bug spray and sunscreen, go to the church where we were helping to build. Have lunch, shower, change, nap ext. then off to some church or other place to do Drimes or VBS (sometimes more then once). Dinner fit in there some where. Bed. Repeat.
At the church we were building, Pastor M. (the pastor of that church) and his congregation had a BBQ for us on the first Sunday. And it was a cool Barbecue too. They dug this huge hole in the ground, and coals in the bottom and then layered the food (putting plantain leaves between each layer of food) covering it back up and letting it cook. The food was amazing. Lots of it, but amazing. See they dished out the food and then gave you the plate. It was a lot of food. On my plate there were three different types of meat, at least five potato's, one Yuka (a type of potato), a sweet potato, and a huge pile of these really amazing tasting beans (they were in pods like peas but soooo good) I couldn't finish it.
As we were getting ready to go to Peru KS (who had been to Peru the year before) was preparing us to know that we would all be sharing our testimony more then once on the trip (sometimes once per day). That was cause the year before all they were doing was Drimes and VBS morning and afternoon. Lots of the Interns did share there testimony more then once. Luckily, I only had to share my testimony once (I have, had {sorry}, this strong dislike of talking about myself and my life) but I did introduce the Drimes a lot (I was very good at it apparently).
Although, my most favourite memory is from our final Sunday there. We were at this other church and were going to do a VBS at for them that morning. When it came to VBS we were split into groups. Jay and Eva were doing games, JJ and Melody were doing crafts, KS was the director, S was taking photo's, and Me and K-A were doing the story. (I love telling stories, can't you tell?) Throughout the week we had two stories, one of Jesus calming the storm, and one of when Saul was met on the road to Damascus and went from someone who wanted to kill Christians to being a Christian. (Our theme was God's Power) K-A told the calming the storm story, and I told the Damascus story. Each time we did a VBS we switched off telling a story. So if K-A told her story I would ask the discussion questions. And when I told the story K-A would lead the discussion. We also had this brown piece of fabric we called the SS Damascus, cause when K-A was telling the story we folded it to look like a boat for the kids to sit on, and when I was telling the story it was the road to Damascus.
Anyways, it was my turn to tell the story and the group we had at that moment was of little kids. So like four and five and six year olds. We tried to make it fun for them by getting them involved. Little things like, "and then Paul couldn't see! Can you cover you're eyes and pretend to not see" or "so his friends had to lead him. Grab someones hand and pretend to walk with them" and "and then God healed him, open your eyes and see!" And there was this one little boy when we said cover your eyes, he covered his eyes stood up and tried to walk. Oh he was so cute.
And then it was time to go home. Back onto the bus. Up the mountain. Stop at the same place for food. Down down down down down the mountain. We even stopped at the same hotel. We toured Lima's catacombs during because our plane wasn't until later that night. And then we were on the way home.
God taught me a lot there. Lots on my attitude (no really. Even out of you're own country He wants you to have a good attitude) and about a new work ethic (until then I hadn't really done 'hard' labour. McWork can't be considered hard, all I do is stand there and talk and count money. In Peru I was moving rocks and shoveling dirt like no tomorrow, which for me was hard). And how love doesn't stop with a language barrier. Cause God is love, and He obviously isn't hindered by different languages. It's not like His first and only language is English. I fell in love with so many of the people there. And the fact that they didn't understand a word I said, and I didn't understand a word they said and that we needed a translator just to have a conversation didn't really stop us. This one little girl (who was about eight) would just talk and talk and talk in Spanish. And when she realized I didn't know Spanish she would talk slower (when she remembered) which didn't help me at all, but still.
I would love to go back one day.
Hollie.
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 13, 2011
The Good Pain
As I sit here typing I'm fairly certain my legs are never going to forgive me. I just recently tried some new workout thing which is INTENSE. It's been two days and my legs are still sore. Anything more then a basic step has them protesting. I'm sure if they could speak they would be sounding like tired whinny children. It's odd but I'm not upset at this pain. I don't begrudgingly living with it because I have to or something. Well actually it's not odd at all. See even though I try to avoid any kind of pain at any cost this can be classified as "Good Pain" because it means my muscles are getting stronger and it won't
hurt as much next time. It means I will improve and be better next time. It's 'good' even if it doesn't feel so good.
Lots of good pain doesn't really feel good at the time. Like confrontations. Confrontations were a big thing for me in Interns. I'm pretty sure I had at least once, if not more, a month. A confrontation is basically a conversation where you're bad attitude is brought to your attention and the possible consequences for it are shown. ie: always shooting down people's ideas and thoughts may led them to not telling you anything - ever. And then you are given the opportunity to change that. You don't necessarily have to change it, but if you don't chances are you will get another Confrontation.
I'll be honest, I hated confrontations. I still don't like getting them. But at the same time I hate crunches and yet I still do them. Both confrontations and crunches hurt while they are happening, and for a bit after words too. And neither gets easier with time.
The reason I didn't like them is that you are sitting there as your own personal personality filth is brought to your attention. It's as if you haven't changed your cat litter for two weeks or so - you learn not to smell it (gross). However a guest would notice it right away. And they would probably even draw it to your attention. Then you'd have to change it. And that would be gross, it would almost be easier to pretend the cat litter doesn't smell than to change it.
Same with a stinky attitude. You live with it, so you don't notice. Suddenly someone else brings it to your attention. You probably were fine with your attitude and don't want to change it. You don't want to change it cause it stinks and makes you want to gag. But you have to (in theory - but please please do so)
And not only in confrontations was my own personality smelly hiccups (burps?) brought to attention but there was a small matter of pride that should be mentioned. No one, least of all myself, likes to be told they are
less than perfect.
Or less than good enough.
Or even less than passable.
I know I'm not perfect. I knew then I was not perfect. However I did think that I was just as good as the next person and thereby didn't really need to change (after all they didn't have to change). However everyone has to change. I had to have confrontations. And I had to change. That didn't mean I had to like it.
Now however, I see the benefit of all those confrontations. Cause yes it was PC and KS and S doing the confrontations. But really it was God working threw them. Why you ask? It's discipline really. Love at the core of it. Hebrews 12:5-8:
And also it was PC KS and S showing they cared. Proverbs 27:17:
hurt as much next time. It means I will improve and be better next time. It's 'good' even if it doesn't feel so good.Lots of good pain doesn't really feel good at the time. Like confrontations. Confrontations were a big thing for me in Interns. I'm pretty sure I had at least once, if not more, a month. A confrontation is basically a conversation where you're bad attitude is brought to your attention and the possible consequences for it are shown. ie: always shooting down people's ideas and thoughts may led them to not telling you anything - ever. And then you are given the opportunity to change that. You don't necessarily have to change it, but if you don't chances are you will get another Confrontation.
I'll be honest, I hated confrontations. I still don't like getting them. But at the same time I hate crunches and yet I still do them. Both confrontations and crunches hurt while they are happening, and for a bit after words too. And neither gets easier with time.
The reason I didn't like them is that you are sitting there as your own personal personality filth is brought to your attention. It's as if you haven't changed your cat litter for two weeks or so - you learn not to smell it (gross). However a guest would notice it right away. And they would probably even draw it to your attention. Then you'd have to change it. And that would be gross, it would almost be easier to pretend the cat litter doesn't smell than to change it.
Same with a stinky attitude. You live with it, so you don't notice. Suddenly someone else brings it to your attention. You probably were fine with your attitude and don't want to change it. You don't want to change it cause it stinks and makes you want to gag. But you have to (in theory - but please please do so)
And not only in confrontations was my own personality smelly hiccups (burps?) brought to attention but there was a small matter of pride that should be mentioned. No one, least of all myself, likes to be told they are
less than perfect.
Or less than good enough.
Or even less than passable.
I know I'm not perfect. I knew then I was not perfect. However I did think that I was just as good as the next person and thereby didn't really need to change (after all they didn't have to change). However everyone has to change. I had to have confrontations. And I had to change. That didn't mean I had to like it.
Now however, I see the benefit of all those confrontations. Cause yes it was PC and KS and S doing the confrontations. But really it was God working threw them. Why you ask? It's discipline really. Love at the core of it. Hebrews 12:5-8:
And you have forgotten the exhortation which speaks to you as to sons:
"My son, do not despise the chastening of the LORD,
Nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him;
For whom the LORD loves He chastens,
And scourges every son whom He receives."
If you endure chastening, God deals with you as with sons; for what son is there whom a father does not chasten? But if you are without chastening, of which all have become partakers, then you are illegitimate and not sons.
And also it was PC KS and S showing they cared. Proverbs 27:17:
As iron sharpens iron,
So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.
So while at the time it hurt. And it stunk. And I really hated it. Now I can look back at all the good it has done for me. I like people more. I'm sure people can actually handle being around me more. I don't fly off the handle and lose my temper as much. Really I'm just an all around better (but still not perfect) person then I was before all those meetings.
Now if these squats, crunches and such could do the same we'd be set.
Hollie.
Aug 8, 2011
And then there was road trips
Do you think you know someone? Like everything possible. No stone left untold between you. I mean really you and this person are practically joined at the hip. There is nothing possible you couldn't know about them. Go spend 14 - 24 hours in a van with them, on multiple occasions, then go back to you pre-trip self and correct that misconception. Cause now you really do. Or so you think. We might cover this new misconception later.
But that was us. All eight of us interns. We had done pretty much everything imaginable already. We had been in tipped canoes. We had painted for hours and hours together, cut paper snowflakes, attempted to create our own Drime (that shall never be heard of/preformed again). We had done bottle drives, worked in a kitchen, decorated the church Regency room for a luncheon, worked the Christmas banquet.
MOST importantly we had survived PC driving the church van (affectionately named Marge).
Obviously there wasn't anything else we could learn about each other. We knew it ALL. No really - we did.
Then we went to the Jesus Culture Conference in Redding California. From our town that's a 12 hour drive (provided you don't stop to eat, stretch, and/or go to the bathroom. EVER) It's more like 14 hours included the previously excluded list. And in Marge was us eight, PC, and two other friends of ours. In case your bad at math that's eleven people. In an eleven seater van. By the time you reach home that's 24h+ in a van with the same eleven people. And there is no break from them when you're not in the van.
Suddenly you know who snores. Who has the best taste of music. Who smells bad. Who has to go to the bathroom every half hour vs. bladders of steel. Who makes the best pillow and who has a bony shoulder. Now you know how they act when they are truly sleep deprived. And have you ever noticed that being stuck in the same vehicular magnifies everything? So what used to not make someone tick suddenly really makes them tock. And what annoyed them now infuriates them?
We survived though. And made it back with many stories to tell and inside jokes to last for a life time. That was the beginning of February. At the beginning of March was the LA trip.
See every year so far the Interns do two missions trip. A 'small' one to either LA or to NHOP (National House of Prayer) in Ottawa. And then a 'big' one which is usually an overseas or Mexico trip.
So it had been a month and our tailbones were still protesting the idea as we dutifully loaded up Marge and piled back on in. This time there was ten of us (one free seat!!!!) Fourteen more hours to Redding. Stay for the night. Go to church there, go shopping, go to church again, go to bed. Another eight to nine-ish hours to Los Angeles the following day.
While in LA we stayed and helped out at the Dream Center. Basically what they do is they find a need, and then find a way to fill that need. Which involved a lot of things, but my favourite out-reach we did was the Food Truck. Which basically was loading up a delivery truck with food, driving out to a set location (same location on the same day of the week at the same time) put food in grocery bags and hand out the food.
After ten or so days we once again loaded up Marge and piled on in. This time to go home again. By the time we reached the wee hours of the night/morning we had gone from having fun, to laughing at everything and anything because we were so tired, to staring ahead blankly trying to sleep, to normal because we were so tired. By the time we had reached normal most people had slept. I think Me Eva and Jay started talking on childhood memories and things we liked. Eva dropped out once the topic changed to books (she's more of a movie girl) and stayed there for a good while. Once books were exhausted out (and us as well) we attempted to sleep. Which was uncomfortable to say the least.
By the time we got home I'm sure none of us ever wanted to see Marge again. I know I didn't. During these trips though I did learn a few things. Like how to get along with people - simply because I had no choice. My MP3 wouldn't last the entire trip so I couldn't just listen to it all the time. Reading the entire way was out (vans full of people are loud just so you know). And the fact of the matter is - people are just fun to talk to.
I also discovered I missed everyone the next morning, which was surprising. I expected I wouldn't want to see them for a long time. Instead I was going through a people withdrawal.
So all told we clocked a good 74 or more hours in Marge. And do you think we know everything about each other now? Oh absolutely.
NOT.
Hollie.
But that was us. All eight of us interns. We had done pretty much everything imaginable already. We had been in tipped canoes. We had painted for hours and hours together, cut paper snowflakes, attempted to create our own Drime (that shall never be heard of/preformed again). We had done bottle drives, worked in a kitchen, decorated the church Regency room for a luncheon, worked the Christmas banquet.
MOST importantly we had survived PC driving the church van (affectionately named Marge).
Obviously there wasn't anything else we could learn about each other. We knew it ALL. No really - we did.
Then we went to the Jesus Culture Conference in Redding California. From our town that's a 12 hour drive (provided you don't stop to eat, stretch, and/or go to the bathroom. EVER) It's more like 14 hours included the previously excluded list. And in Marge was us eight, PC, and two other friends of ours. In case your bad at math that's eleven people. In an eleven seater van. By the time you reach home that's 24h+ in a van with the same eleven people. And there is no break from them when you're not in the van.
Suddenly you know who snores. Who has the best taste of music. Who smells bad. Who has to go to the bathroom every half hour vs. bladders of steel. Who makes the best pillow and who has a bony shoulder. Now you know how they act when they are truly sleep deprived. And have you ever noticed that being stuck in the same vehicular magnifies everything? So what used to not make someone tick suddenly really makes them tock. And what annoyed them now infuriates them?
We survived though. And made it back with many stories to tell and inside jokes to last for a life time. That was the beginning of February. At the beginning of March was the LA trip.
See every year so far the Interns do two missions trip. A 'small' one to either LA or to NHOP (National House of Prayer) in Ottawa. And then a 'big' one which is usually an overseas or Mexico trip.
So it had been a month and our tailbones were still protesting the idea as we dutifully loaded up Marge and piled back on in. This time there was ten of us (one free seat!!!!) Fourteen more hours to Redding. Stay for the night. Go to church there, go shopping, go to church again, go to bed. Another eight to nine-ish hours to Los Angeles the following day.
While in LA we stayed and helped out at the Dream Center. Basically what they do is they find a need, and then find a way to fill that need. Which involved a lot of things, but my favourite out-reach we did was the Food Truck. Which basically was loading up a delivery truck with food, driving out to a set location (same location on the same day of the week at the same time) put food in grocery bags and hand out the food.
After ten or so days we once again loaded up Marge and piled on in. This time to go home again. By the time we reached the wee hours of the night/morning we had gone from having fun, to laughing at everything and anything because we were so tired, to staring ahead blankly trying to sleep, to normal because we were so tired. By the time we had reached normal most people had slept. I think Me Eva and Jay started talking on childhood memories and things we liked. Eva dropped out once the topic changed to books (she's more of a movie girl) and stayed there for a good while. Once books were exhausted out (and us as well) we attempted to sleep. Which was uncomfortable to say the least.
By the time we got home I'm sure none of us ever wanted to see Marge again. I know I didn't. During these trips though I did learn a few things. Like how to get along with people - simply because I had no choice. My MP3 wouldn't last the entire trip so I couldn't just listen to it all the time. Reading the entire way was out (vans full of people are loud just so you know). And the fact of the matter is - people are just fun to talk to.
I also discovered I missed everyone the next morning, which was surprising. I expected I wouldn't want to see them for a long time. Instead I was going through a people withdrawal.
So all told we clocked a good 74 or more hours in Marge. And do you think we know everything about each other now? Oh absolutely.
NOT.
Hollie.
Aug 4, 2011
Princess Mentality
Hey so now I guess from the last post any person who knows me and reads this now knows they know me. SURPRISE!!! Okay maybe not.
Today's topic: Princesses!
Yes princesses. Lets face it, we all grew up around Princess (well if you were an 80's or 90's kid at least) I mean really Disney has had us prepped for Princesshood since we've been able to understand what a Princess is.
Every girl has wanted to be a Princess at some point in their life. Princess, ballerina, mommy, brain surgeon. You know it's a list of that every girl wants to be.
And then of course there's me. Somehow I seem to like being the exception. As far as I'm usually concerned the connotation of a princess is someone who sits around all day sipping tea and worrying about breaking a nail. Usually I don't have nails to break (I bite them a lot) so I don't have to worry about it. And while I do love tea I usually have it in a to-go up as I'm rushing around doing things.
Fact is, I'm just NOT a Princess.
Or so I'd like to think. That doesn't really fly over well with the people I hang out with. From either year of Interns.
Its the whole entitlement of the Princess Mentality that I don't really like. The damsel in distress that so many Disney princess are. The "woe-is-me I need a fine prince to move this" attitude. Really, I'm just stubborn.
In both my years of interns this anti-Princess theology was really challenged and it did not make it out in tact (although it did make it out. Like I said I'm stubborn) In interns girls are expected to be ladies and guys gentleman. Did you know part of being a lady is letting a gentleman BE a gentleman? Suddenly this independent only child had to let others do things for her. I remember distinctly towards the end of my first year stacking chairs at youth (I was an Intern, Interns helped at youth, and stacking chairs was part of helping) and every chair I grabbed was taken from me by one of the guys in my class. Kinda very annoying if you don't like the whole "Princess thing."
Me and KS have talked about the whole Princess thing. I argue that I'm a maiden (maidens can do things. Princesses can't) she thinks otherwise. And if we are going to be truthful she's right.
Now that I think about it, this probably should wait until I start talking about my second year cause that's when the most growth happened. To late now, I don't want to delete all this. This is a mash of both years. I'll try to stick to first year experiences.
The first year was easier to handle actually. There were six girls and two guys - you can get away with a lot then. Second year not so much. Two girls, three guys. But the fact that there was two guys and six girls did not stop PC from expecting the guys to gentleman. I remember in Peru (I will cover that later) we were going to a birthday party and PC telling the guys to make sure us girls were safe.
Really I've come to accept it now. Even embrace it. I am (I'm never going to repeat this so enjoy it while it lasts) I am a Princess. There I said it. Happy? How did this happen you ask? Good question. I have no clue. While that's not true. I have a clue. It comes back to identity and God. As a Christian I'm a daughter of God. God is THE King, by default I'm a... princess. And with being a princess there are some expectations to be sure. To be ladylike and... such. It means letting guys open doors for you, and carry all the heavy stuff. It means texting them when you get home so they know you arrived safely. It's letting them walk you home because it's getting dark. And not because you are incapable of doing so (I've walked alone at night in Calgary when I was twelve. My little town don't scare me) it's because we are called to love and honour one another. And we love and honour guys by letting them do the above listed things (which is by no means exhaustive).
I think I realized I was a Princess the other day at work actually. I had just filled up the ice coffee container with five or so pots of coffee and equal amounts of ice. Thereby it was heavy. I asked a friend of mine AnPa if he could lift it back to where it went for me. Jokingly he asked why he had to do it (as he was lifting it) and I replied "Well for one, you're stronger. And two you're the guy" (he understood by what I meant by that comment, some people at work would look at me blankly for a comment like that)
Insta-revelation
Hollie.
Today's topic: Princesses!
Yes princesses. Lets face it, we all grew up around Princess (well if you were an 80's or 90's kid at least) I mean really Disney has had us prepped for Princesshood since we've been able to understand what a Princess is.
Every girl has wanted to be a Princess at some point in their life. Princess, ballerina, mommy, brain surgeon. You know it's a list of that every girl wants to be.
And then of course there's me. Somehow I seem to like being the exception. As far as I'm usually concerned the connotation of a princess is someone who sits around all day sipping tea and worrying about breaking a nail. Usually I don't have nails to break (I bite them a lot) so I don't have to worry about it. And while I do love tea I usually have it in a to-go up as I'm rushing around doing things.
Fact is, I'm just NOT a Princess.
Or so I'd like to think. That doesn't really fly over well with the people I hang out with. From either year of Interns.
Its the whole entitlement of the Princess Mentality that I don't really like. The damsel in distress that so many Disney princess are. The "woe-is-me I need a fine prince to move this" attitude. Really, I'm just stubborn.
Me and KS have talked about the whole Princess thing. I argue that I'm a maiden (maidens can do things. Princesses can't) she thinks otherwise. And if we are going to be truthful she's right.
Now that I think about it, this probably should wait until I start talking about my second year cause that's when the most growth happened. To late now, I don't want to delete all this. This is a mash of both years. I'll try to stick to first year experiences.
The first year was easier to handle actually. There were six girls and two guys - you can get away with a lot then. Second year not so much. Two girls, three guys. But the fact that there was two guys and six girls did not stop PC from expecting the guys to gentleman. I remember in Peru (I will cover that later) we were going to a birthday party and PC telling the guys to make sure us girls were safe.
Really I've come to accept it now. Even embrace it. I am (I'm never going to repeat this so enjoy it while it lasts) I am a Princess. There I said it. Happy? How did this happen you ask? Good question. I have no clue. While that's not true. I have a clue. It comes back to identity and God. As a Christian I'm a daughter of God. God is THE King, by default I'm a... princess. And with being a princess there are some expectations to be sure. To be ladylike and... such. It means letting guys open doors for you, and carry all the heavy stuff. It means texting them when you get home so they know you arrived safely. It's letting them walk you home because it's getting dark. And not because you are incapable of doing so (I've walked alone at night in Calgary when I was twelve. My little town don't scare me) it's because we are called to love and honour one another. And we love and honour guys by letting them do the above listed things (which is by no means exhaustive).
I think I realized I was a Princess the other day at work actually. I had just filled up the ice coffee container with five or so pots of coffee and equal amounts of ice. Thereby it was heavy. I asked a friend of mine AnPa if he could lift it back to where it went for me. Jokingly he asked why he had to do it (as he was lifting it) and I replied "Well for one, you're stronger. And two you're the guy" (he understood by what I meant by that comment, some people at work would look at me blankly for a comment like that)
Insta-revelation
Yay for being a Princess...
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| That's my kind of Princess :D |
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