"Everything is Plastic"

   My mother tells a story about me as a young child visiting my aunt's house. On one of the tables was an appealing fruit basket. I took one of the apples and attempted to bite into it, only to be told it was "plastic." Some time later, I allegedly composed an original song with the repeated line, "Everything is plastic." My childish brain could not comprehend what benefit there was in setting out fruit that did not nourish.

   This week I was visiting somewhere else and came upon this tray of plastic fruit on a counter. I was not deceived this time.

   Plastic fruit is a fitting metaphor when so many of the things that surround us are not real. The voice on the other end of the telephone is not always a real person, but a recording or sounds generated by a computer.  The so-called candid photos on our social media feeds are curated and embellished. Computers having what seem like life-like conversations with people was tested out as early as the 1960's [1], and many chatbots appear on websites to "help" us. We have an obsession with the virtual world and its technology, but it does not nourish us. Loneliness has recently been called an epidemic, and a social worker named Jake Ernst "blames technology and social deterioration for this trend" [2].

   Discerning what's real and what's plastic/fake or at best a representation of reality is not just a problem that started with personal computers or smartphones. Projecting an image of ourselves that is better than reality has been a temptation humans have struggled with from the beginning. Societies do the same, rewriting history to cover up the unpleasant parts and to kindle greater loyalty. 

  So, how to we wade through the media and the messages to arrive at anything resembling reality?French mathematician René DesCartes in the 1600's proposed doubting everything. He then rebuilt a system of reality based on his own senses and rationality: "I think, therefore I am." Maybe I'm not the only one that finds this human-centred, individualistic approach less than satisfactory.

  I offer a few ideas that have helped me.

• Whenever possible, connect with people face to face. Real people are not just voices, faces, or the words they generate. Real people are embodied, complex beings with emotions and histories. We're able to take in more of this complexity when we meet in person. We're also more able to take in this complexity when we listen at least as much as we speak.

• Interact with the real, created world whenever possible. Yes, Alexa or Google can tell you what the weather is like, but stepping outside and experiencing it is more real than their descriptions. Looking at photographs of birds and butterflies can be enriching, but looking out your window or walking in your neighbourhood and focusing your eyes on 3-dimensional wonders will nourish you in a deeper way. Allowing children to watch someone else play Minecraft or to play Minecraft themselves may have a place, but building with tangible objects like blocks or LEGO widens their sensory inputs and horizons.

• Remind yourself that everything presented to you comes from a limited perspective. It can never give you the complete picture because reality is so complex. Pay attention to the bias of the source. Sometimes, it helps to look behind the bias to see if there is something to be gained for the source by including particular details or ignoring or downplaying others.

• As a person of faith, I'm finding it increasingly crucial to be humble and to admit when I'm not sure or don't know enough to be an authority on topics outside my expertise. Even when I might be considered an expert by being an eye-witness of an event or situation, I can't claim to be the only authority. I need to admit that others have experienced it differently. If we disagree about some aspect, I need to give others the benefit of the doubt, unless there's evidence of malice.

My simple musical composition "Everything is plastic," was a reaction to being tricked by fake fruit. Some things are indeed plastic imitations of a real thing, so I keep seeking to better understand the complexity of reality in the light of God's grace.

   [1] Between 1964 and 1967, Joseph Weizenbaum developed ELIZA. It was a computer program that could carry on a seemingly natural conversation with a therapy client, who typed in thoughts and responses to its prompts.

   [2]Global News article about increasing loneliness consulted social worker Jake Ernst among others.

Finding Kinship in Unexpected Places

I am an admitted introvert. There's a stereotype that many of those who blog are not the most social people around. But introverts do like people, if not crowds of people at once. As a child, I could not believe my father's ability to make conversation with strangers in elevators and sometimes find an unexpected connection.

I've been reflecting on some of the times that this has happened to me, in spite of my reserved nature. Yes, in our current society where people are zooming around in cars and wearing earbuds while walking in the neighbourhood, it's harder to make a connection. We may also need to overcome cultural hurdles as our towns and cities become more ethnically diverse. In such situations, even a head nod or a smile or a simple greeting can remind ourselves and others that strangers are human just like us. I share these brief anecdotes to spur you on to seizing the moments to connect with people you don't know. You might just find kinship in an unexpected place.

Teacher's College

After more than a decade of attending schools where everyone came from a family that believed the same basic tenets of Christianity, I went to a university far from home to begin my teacher training. I sat in classes with others who wanted to make a difference with young people, and we explored different pedagogies and discussed topics in groups.

I noticed for the first month that not one of my cohort of about 25 budding educators said one word about church, God or faith. In a rare moment of boldness, I made low-key mention of attending church on the weekend. Suddenly, I found out that a significant contingent of my class had a church affliliation. One classmate decided to organize a time when anyone interested could visit the parish he attended in the town of Callender. Three of us were given the honor of carrying what were called "the gifts" to the front table.

At a Longhouse

After I had children, our family took a trip to a reconstructed Indigenous village and were been guided by an Indigenous woman through a longhouse. One of my younger children, age 4 or 5, in a moment of silence blurted out a spontaneous word of praise, "I really do love Jesus." I was taken aback when the guide responded in kind. Despite all that her people had suffered at the hands of those who bore this name, she said, "So do I."

Letters from Prison

About twelve years ago, I joined a ministry that writes letters of encouragement to inmates across Canada. As I receive Bible studies from women and men, I'm able to make small connections to each one of them. Things that gave us kinship were sometimes geographical, where I had previously travelled to that province or was familiar with something historical to that place. Other times, we were drawn together by the fact that we were both parents and had concerns about our children and caring for them well. For still others, the common human experiences of rejection, disappointment, loneliness and desire for hope and forgiveness, made it possible to write heart-felt letters to precious individuals I had never met.

Engineering

Freelance copyediting dropped into my lap many years ago when a friend asked me to read an engineering paper for a friend, who was not a native English speaker. Happy to help out, I gave feedback about the grammar and sentence structure, even when I had no grasp of the academic content. One thing led to another, and I helped a number of engineering students in my city with the form and style of their Master's and PhD theses.

One of these students went on to start a business, and he consulted with me to check over press releases or web content from time to time. After returning some material to him in the springtime, I dared to add a personal connection in my email by tentatively saying, "If you celebrate Easter, I hope you have a blessed weekend. If not, I hope you enjoy extra time off with your family."

To my surprise, he replied that he did celebrate Easter. A year or two later, he asked me to collaborate on two faith-based writing projects on behalf of his friend, a Lebanese-born Maronite priest living in France.

Nurse

My mother lives in a retirement home, which provides a level of nursing oversight for its residents. A few months ago, one of the nurses had a conversation with her, during which it came up that my mom is a follower of Jesus. This nurse, born in Ghana, explained that he also shared this faith. In fact, he now often reads some Scripture or prays with my mother while checking on her or after taking her blood pressure.

Church Guest

I'm as guilty as most in that I gravitate to those I already know before and after a church service. One Sunday recently, though, I went up to a guest and introduced myself. In our short but meaningful conversation, we had a geographical connection because I had attended a conference in the town where he lives. Then, we discovered that we each either translate or edit sermons for Korean speakers in North America. Finally, he was related to someone who would be working with me in the fall.

Front Yard Concert

In our city, one Saturday in June has been set aside for one-hour outdoor concerts. These concerts are organized and financed by the city, but homeowners are invited to offer a power source and space on their porch or front lawn or driveway for the musicians and spectators. 

This year we offered our driveway, and for that hour we had dozens of guests stop by to listen and to enjoy a frozen treat. The vehicle of live music was a way to bring together people of different ages and walks of life. One neighbor commented, "We should do this every month!" because it created a sense of belonging for all those who attended.

I encourage you to look beyond the external things that make someone you meet "different" in your eyes. Humans have become experts in putting each other into categories and groups, taking just split seconds to determine if someone should be classified with "us" or with "them." However, human kinship is real. Seek it, and you will find it, even in unexpected places.

Part of God's Story

I had a room mate in university who once asked me, “If the Bible were being written today, do you think we’d be in it?” I’ve thought about her question from time to time. I’m not sure if she was wondering about her or our level of faithfulness and whether or not it would be noticed. She may also have been seeking a tangible way to be part of God’s story.

So, are we in God’s story? As a child, I saw myself in the stories of the Israelites from Genesis to the rule of David. In fact, I remember the shock around Grade 10 when it was made clear that I was not in fact a Jew but a Gentile. Despite not being a biological Jew, the stories of the Hebrew people are so relatable—human nature spans one’s ethnicity. The life of Jesus is also sprinkled with characters we can relate to.

We live in a culture where people look to celebrities and “follow” them. Not even the Christian church is immune with singers, teachers, pastors and congregations building brands and empires. We are tempted to read the Bible as the stories of heroes to emulate and villains to scorn. But when we do that, we miss the truth that God is the main character and that God can use anyone—adult, child, powerful, weak, named, unnamed, Middle Eastern, African, European, Asian-- to help bring about his purposes. The apostle Paul reminds the Corinthians of their beginnings, which were nothing to boast about:

“Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. ²⁷ But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. ²⁸ God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, ²⁹ so that no one may boast before him.”

Ten examples that shine a spotlight on hidden figures.

1.       The little boy who gave up the five loaves and two fish to Jesus, resulting in the feeding of the 5,000.

2.       The servant girls who urged Naaman the Syrian to go to Israel’s prophet to be cured of leprosy.

3.       Shepherds were a disreputable class of people who nonetheless were the angels’ audience as they  shared the news of the Messiah’s birth.

4.       Jehoida the priest, who lived to be 130 years of age, faithfully advised the seven-year-old King Joash and kept him on a good path.

5.       Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, found a wife for Isaac so that Abraham’s line could continue at a critical time in Canaan.

6.       Who does Jesus take the time to talk to as he’s being rushed to the synagogue ruler’s house to heal his 12 year old daughter? A woman who’s been bleeding for 12 years.

7.       An ill Egyptian servant of the enemy Amalekites left for dead enabled David to reclaim all the people and goods raided from the town of Ziklag.

8.       It’s not known which of these was the first African to receive Jesus as Lord: maybe Simon of Cyrene, who carried Jesus’ cross or his sons Alexander and Rufus or the Ethiopian eunuch or Simeon called Niger or Lucius of Cyrene.

9.       Who rescued the prophet Jeremiah from the mucky cistern? Ebed-Melech, a Sudanese man who was a government official.

10.    The Apostle Paul’s nephew overheard a plot to ambush Paul on the way to Caesarea and spoke up so that it could to be carried out.

Something my room mate and children and we ourselves want to know is, are we part of God’s story? Does God’s story include people like me? Fortunately, for all of us the answer is “yes.” For some of us, who might feel like we don’t fit, it may take a careful search to demonstrate this truth: “How great is the love the Father has lavished on US that WE should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1, emphasis mine).

Things I learned at church, Part 4: There is no perfect church

    Consumer North American society has made its way to churches for many decades now. If something displeases a person at the church they attend, there are many other options. Perhaps more so during the era of online church, accelerated by the Covid-19 pandemic, people have a plethora of choices. Those choices include worship times streamed from other cities and other parts of the world. Of course, for more and more people the concept of church or church membership has become completely irrelevant.

   As stated in the earlier posts in this series, my weekends have always been punctuated with church attendance once or twice on a Sunday. For me, church is still relevant. Perhaps a definition of church would be helpful. Church for me is much more than a physical space but the experience of connection with other people who also love Jesus as we meet together to worship, learn together, pray and encourage one another. The very first churches or ecclesia met in homes, beside rivers, or in rented space. They were not visible landmarks, but they were instrumental in bringing hope and wholeness to the community in which they were planted.

   When my husband and I met, we each belonged to a different church. Since they were both in the same town, we alternated attending each church together. Eventually, as we became engaged and married, we felt it important to choose one and become more fully invested in its ministry. Did I neglect to mention that all the people in these two churches had once been members of the same larger group? A heated issue had led them to split. How would we decide? My husband framed the question in this way: "Which group of sinners will we decide to worship with?" This was not about finding the best or the perfect church. In the end we opted for my husband's church, as he had the deepest roots in that community of faith. 

   About eight years later, we did move away from the town where we first met. Our first Sunday we landed in a church of the same denomination we were affiliated with, with the intention of just "trying it out." On that Sunday morning, there was a guest pastor. I don't remember what the theme of his message was, but I know it was based on the Bible. I don't remember if it was organ or piano music, but I know we sang hymns and spiritual songs. I don't remember if we were greeted at the door, but I remember two distinct conversations after the service. When we got home, we agreed: "The Holy Spirit is in this church. We don't have to look any further."

   That was eighteen years ago. Did we find the perfect church? No, we found a group of sinners to worship with. They put up with our shortcomings, as we try to contribute the gifts and talents God has given us. We work together to make things happen that none of us could do on our own, like helping to resettle individuals and families who were once refugees. We forgive those who have said something hurtful to or about us, even when it's hard. We listen to the Word of God together and seek to live it out. We ask about each other's needs. We bring meals to each other when we're going through a rough patch. We know we're not alone.

  Another heated issue has arisen at church. Members might look at each other and wonder, "Which side are you on?" I remind myself that this church is a group of people I've been connected to for more than a decade. We all have a story that has intersected with the grace of Jesus Christ. I'm committed to keep listening to those stories and to an ongoing journey with these folks. It won't be easy. It won't be perfect. But I'm counting on the Holy Spirit to guide us all.  

Things I learned at church, Part 3: Faith and Deeds Work Together

   To those outside of a church, it may seem that churches exist mainly through words, doctrines, creeds and statements.  What I have learned is that church is a place where these words and beliefs come to life in real and practical actions.  The impact of the people nurtured by the teachings of the church is felt more widely than even they might imagine.

   My first awareness of community volunteering came through my church.  "Meals on Wheels," a community agency delivering hot meals to seniors or disabled people, relies upon volunteer drivers.  In our weekly church bulletin was a regular notice telling the members of the church about what time and date they would be needed to help out. Visits to a local nursing home were coordinated through the church, as a way to provide social support to isolated seniors.  These volunteer opportunities existed 40 years ago and have expanded to include food banks, "Out of the Cold" programs using church facilities to provide shelter for the homeless, and many more. Church members are often the ones who recognize community needs and who also fill the ranks of needed volunteer help.

   Churches are also places to get practical help, for insiders (as I highlight in the story below) and for those outside. This is true for those who attend: help is requested and given when someone is ill in the hospital or needs a ride to medical appointments or needs some cash to pay bills due to a work setback. People bringing over baked goods or a meal in a time of struggle is a common show of support in church circles. One strong memory of practical help happened when my family of origin was going through a crisis.  I was away from home doing summer volunteer work and heard about it later. My father could not work that day, but the livestock needed attention. My mother called two families from the church asking if they could send someone over to help. No questions were asked; no explanation was needed.  The young adults who came over and did the farm chores have probably forgotten all about it, but their gift of time is still appreciated by me today. 

   As alluded to in an earlier post in this series, churches take up offerings.  The church where I grew up took up two offerings.  That might sound greedy; however, the first offering went to paying bills, the pastor and practical costs of operating a church.  The second offering was designated for a different cause each week. It was only touched by those counting it and then was passed along to community organizations, agencies or was put in a fund to help people in need who approached the church. It was instilled in me that true generosity flows to those outside of the church building.  According to 2013 Canadian statistics, 41% of the dollars given to charities went to religious organizations [1]. One should not assume that these funds remained in those buildings; they were meant to go out. Yes, some of the work done by religious organizations involves sharing their message with those who have not heard it before. In the spirit of the churches I am acquainted with, the motivation for giving is love--love that seeks to meet human needs regardless of the religious affiliation of the recipient.

   If churches only communicate their message in words, then as the Apostle James declares, "...faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead" (James 3:17 NIV). I am grateful to have learned the vital lesson of faith and deeds working in tandem, at church. Now it's my responsibility to live it out for the next generation.

[1]Turcotte, Martin. Volunteering and charitable giving in Canada. Statistics Canada Report, 2015, page 13. 2015https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/en/pub/89-652-x/89-652-x2015001-eng.pdf?st=idKPvHV6 

Helping hands amid car troubles

   Last month, the minivan pictured at the right had to be sent to a place of no return--the scrap yard.  For 15 years it had been our family's single and reliable vehicle, but things began to change this fall.
   First, our garage alerted us to the fact that the frame and the body were no longer connected.  There was a serious risk that our engine could suddenly drop down, so we prepared ourselves for the inevitability of a repair estimate that would be too high and thus cause us to give up on the vehicle entirely.  To our surprise, there was a local business that did this exact repair for about $600.  During the days when we didn't feel safe driving it and while it was being repaired, kind friends of ours lent us their minivan.  That allowed me to accompany my daughter on an overnight camping trip with her environmental science class.  We are grateful.
   About ten days after the repair job, we planned to drive two hours to my husband's hometown so that we could attend a family funeral for an uncle the next morning.  On our way, we planned to stop in a nearby city and visit a member of our church who had been hospitalized there for some time.  As we neared the hospital, the van stalled without warning.  After restarting it a couple of times and limping to the hospital parking lot, we parked and the engine quit again, this time for good.  We decided to go into the hospital and visit with our acquaintance and see if things would be better when we returned to the parking lot.  We had a nice chat with her, and then went out to check on the vehicle.  Again, it would not start.  Not having a cell phone at the time, we were glad that the hospital had a pay phone in its foyer so that we could call a tow truck.  The friendly gentleman and his 9th grade son were there shortly to pick us up with enough space for the three passengers we had been traveling with.  The tow of 25 kilometres was only $120.  It was raining, so after dropping the minivan at our garage, the driver offered to bring us to our front door as well.
   During this incident, we discussed together how grateful we were that we had not headed straight for the 4-lane highway to get to my husband's home town that night.  If the minivan had quit abruptly there, we could have been hit by high speed traffic around us.  Even if we could have safely moved onto the shoulder, we would have had cars speeding past us and been at the mercy of the nearest tow truck who noticed us in distress. 
   The crank shaft sensor was the culprit for the stalling engine, and it was quickly fixed at a minimal cost.  We were hopeful that the vehicle would have a good stretch of health before the next repair, but it was not to be.  About a week later, it stranded us again in the early evening.  In this case, a friend was driving on the same road, in the opposite direction.  She noticed our distinct vehicle with its four-way flashers on and recognized my husband by his height.  She turned around and then followed us as we sputtered to a side street, where the engine completely quit. When we realized she was there behind us, we were so grateful to get a ride home, from which we could call a tow truck.
   This time, we finally saw what objectivity would have probably seen much sooner.  This vehicle was becoming a money pit, and it was time to say "Good bye" to it.
   The same couple who loaned us their minivan in October, allowed us to borrow another of their vehicles for one more week until our purchase of a Toyota compact car was finalized.  In the midst of all the car troubles, we knew that God was caring for us through circumstances and people.

Models of Radical Hospitality

   In the West, Hospitality has become an industry rather than a a trait of home owners.  Even though North American homes have many rooms, they are rarely made available to someone from outside. The recent trend of airbnb, by which people can share space in their homes for a fee, may be more of a manifestation of disruptive capitalism than hospitality.
   To find models of radical hospitality, opening your home to someone lacking shelter in a way that does not seek kickbacks, we must go back.  In the contexts that I share, radical hospitality was not offered by scattered individuals, but it was a community ethic, a way of life.

Abraham and three guests

   This story is told in the Hebrew Bible, Genesis chapter 18.  Three guests come to Abraham, a nomad living apart from any settlement.  The location given refers to the landmark of "great trees of Mamre."  If you read this narrative carefully, you will notice that the word "hurried" is used to describe Abraham's activity in greeting them, selecting a choice calf for dinner and instructing others to prepare meat and bread for the guests.  Whatever this elderly man had on his agenda that day was displaced by the visitors who came to him.  Caring for them with the best of what he had to offer preceded small talk; Abraham stood nearby while they ate and waited politely for them to finish before finding out the purpose of their visit.

   The welcome and hospitality he showed to these visitors was typical of the Ancient Near East. Travelers relied on residents to assist them with basics of food, water and shelter for survival;  it was understood that everyone will sometimes be in a position to receive as well as to give.  This was reciprocity extended to a wide community, paid forward because it was the right thing to do.

John Calvin's Geneva 

   At a hymn festival I attended this week in honour of the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation, various historical anecdotes were shared between songs.  One item mentioned that I found striking was that John Calvin fostered radical hospitality in the city of Geneva, Switzerland. For those unaware of details of Calvin's life, he was forced to flee his native France and found refuge in Geneva.  It was his adopted home, but as he found himself a religious and civic leader there, he encouraged the care and reception of refugees from all over Europe.  When single and also when married he allowed people to board in his home.  When members of his congregation were expanding their homes (often by adding another story on top of the house), it is said that Calvin encouraged them to include a bit more room for refugees to be housed.  Geneva in the 1500's was truly a haven to those displaced by religious persecution because its citizens en masse practiced radical hospitality.

Netherlands and Denmark during World War II

   Radical hospitality was apparently in the DNA of many Christian people in the Netherlands and Denmark who shielded Jewish people in their homes to protect them from enemies in the Third Reich. The acts of Corrie Ten Boom and her family, popularized by the book and film The Hiding Place, were not exceptional in their minds.  Great networks existed of those willing to risk their lives to provide hospitality to the oppressed.  In Denmark, likewise, a resistance movement enabled hundreds of Jewish people to be hidden and then successfully smuggled in fishing boats to neutral Sweden until the war ended [1].  The crisis of the time required courageous hospitality, and many in these nations rose to this challenge.

Today

   There are some people who still practice radical hospitality in our day.  My parents come immediately to mind.  Even though they have now downsized to a bungalow, they still have two rooms for guests. Since their home is just steps away from a large high school, they were approached by parents of a young man wondering if their shy 9th grader could eat lunch at their home once a week for the year. Those weekly visits filled a need for the boy and eased his transition to secondary school.
   A man in my city who has been an advocate for the poor and giving them tools to better their lives was recently featured in the newspaper for suggesting "tiny houses" might be a solution to homelessness.  One of the outreaches he oversees is a lunch cafe in which at risk individuals are trained to prepare and serve food, where the tasty vegetarian fare is affordable even to street people and where there is ample space for people to socialize, read or play a piano.  This is a way to offer radical hospitality. Learn more about it at https://www.theworkingcentre.org/
   During the refugee crisis (which continues even when the news media have moved on to other stories), Pope Francis urged every Catholic parish in Europe to host a family of four as a realistic solution.  If they did this, the needs of refugees would be well provided for.  That his suggestion (and his own example of receiving displaced persons at the Vatican) was considered remarkable, shows that believers have room to grow in this area.
   May these examples inspire you to do what you can to show that you care more for others than for your own comforts. After all, that's what the Gospel's radical message entails.
 

[1] A fictionalized account of this Danish resistance can be found in Lois Lowry's novel Number the Stars (1989).

Turtle on a Fencepost-Revised

  I first read this phrase in the devotional by Charles R. Swindoll, entitled The Finishing Touch.  He, in turn, was quoting a Presbyterian pastor by the name of Dr. Robert Lamont.  In his youth, Dr. Lamont had seen the strange sight of a turtle being suspended on a fence-post.  No doubt, this was the work of a prankster and not that of the turtle itself.  He applied this idea to himself as well: “Where I am right now is not the result of my efforts; only God can be credited for lifting me to this place for His glory.”
   This is the story of my career path.  I got my first teaching job at a brand new school even though I was late for the interview.  There were a lot of unanswered questions about this school and how I would teach four grades in one room, but I felt led to accept the job.  Less than one month in, I was asked to become the principal at the age of 23.  This was nothing that I planned, but I continued on for three years.
   I was privileged to stay home with my children for eleven years and did not know exactly how I would re-enter the teaching world.
   Then I became a Kindergarten teacher in the most unexpected way. Kindergarten would have been the last grade level that I would have chosen for myself. Yet on the Friday before the Labor Day weekend in 2008, I received a phone call from the principal of a local school asking me to consider taking a 40% position in Junior Kindergarten, starting in a few days.  Honestly, I did not understand why he would call and offer this position to me other than desperation and my resume being on file.  I had no experience in teaching students this young, and I styled myself as an upper elementary teacher.  He asked me to think and pray about it and return his call with an answer in a few hours.

   I have always had a strong sense of vocation, being called to do particular things at particular times in my life.  During my prayer time, this is what came to my mind once again.  This phone call was none other than a call to surrender my plans to God’s plans.  I trusted that He would equip me since I did not consider myself at all prepared for this great adventure with four year olds.
   When there was an internal opening for vice principal of school management at my school, I didn't intend to apply until a colleague encouraged me to do so.
   In June I embarked on a journey to earn my Masters of Education from a small Christian college in Iowa, mostly through online courses.  When I arrived on the campus earlier this week and saw its buildings and considered its history, I again felt like a turtle on a fence-post.  People I've never met sacrificed, prayed and had the vision to begin this school, and I am blessed to reap the benefits.

   But even more than my career path, I feel like a turtle when I think about my humble beginnings as a simple farm girl.  God has enabled me to study at some of the best schools in Canada, teach in small and large Christian schools in Ontario, have articles published, become married to a wonderful man, become a mother to three gifted children, and so much more.

   I am a turtle on a fence-post.

The Golden Rule and Giving

   We generally agree that giving is a good thing.  After all, Jesus is quoted by the Apostle Paul as having said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."  Still, it is quite easy for giving to go wrong. To avoid each pitfall below, the golden rule of doing to others what we would have them do to us is instructive.

1.  Giving can become a matter of pride
   When one is in the position of being able to give to another, it is possible to look down upon the recipient of that charity as being less valuable.  The "needy" can be made into an object rather than being seen as a human being with feelings and dignity.  The giver should call to mind that everything with which he or she has been blessed ultimately came from God and is not to be a matter of pride. In our lives we will experience times when we need the help of others and times when we can provide help for others.  Seeing everyone, no matter their level of need, as someone created in God's image will help us avoid becoming arrogant.
   An example of a good practice I am aware of is that performed by the development agency World Vision.  Every community where it seeks to work by bringing relief and development, its representatives meet with community leaders to determine what assets the community already has.  It consults them as well as to what their hopes and dreams are for the community so that a true partnership is forged based on humility and mutual respect.

2.  Giving can be thoughtless
   Thinking that people in need should be grateful for any old thing given to them can lead to thoughtless giving.  Such giving is seen during food drives when dented cans and products past the best before date are donated.  Clothing given to the needy is sometimes ripped, soiled or missing buttons. Whatever a person plans to give should be something they themselves would be willing to receive.
   I am reminded of an episode in a radio drama where a young boy wins a new bike.  He knows of another child in need of a bike, so he plans to give him his old bike.  As a surprise, he leaves it at the curb of the needy boy's laneway only to have the garbage truck take it away.  In the end, he is convicted to give his brand new bike to this other boy, and he follows through.  It is a great story because it challenges one's natural inclinations.  It's easy to give away what one doesn't really like or need anymore.  The attitude of "What's mine is mine" can be overcome by living out the golden rule.

3.  Giving can be impersonal
   When we give a monetary donation, it can easily become another financial transaction, not unlike paying the utility bill.  When an amount of money is given through an agency, the personal impact of that gift is often brief and momentary.  A computer generated thank you letter telling how much the gift is appreciated does not genuinely allow the donor to see who benefited or how.
   The fourth grade class at my school recently learned how giving can be personal and more authentic. The framed photos of two Ugandan girls are front and centre in their classroom as a reminder of the reason they raised over $2,500 CAD: to sponsor their life-saving surgeries. Not only was money sent, but notes of encouragement and many prayers for their recovery and well-being continue to be offered.  A long-term personal connection has been made between the donors and the ones they helped.

Having the right posture when giving makes all the difference.  Humility, thoughtfulness and relationship elevates any gift from being a mere transaction.

 

Providence and Washing Machines

   The title of this post seems incongruous at first glance, but I assure you there is a connection.

During my adult life I have never purchased a washing machine, but I've always had one in my dwelling.  They have never been terribly flashy.  At times they have had issues of functionality, but by interesting providential circumstances a newer machine would come into my possession.
   For just under a decade we used the suds-saver washing machine that "came with the homestead" that my in-laws moved out of and left for my husband to live in.  When we moved away two hours to the west, this appliance was put in the U-Haul with our other basic possessions.
   About one year later, the machine was not sounding happy.  All of the lubricant had leaked out, and the transmission had almost broken.  We did only small loads to preserve its limited capacities and began searching for a replacement.  Since we were living on just my husband's part-time wage (he was a student, and I was staying home with our three young children), a used washing machine was our only prospect.  However, every newspaper ad we followed up with had units that were in even worse shape than our own: filthy inside and out, detached lids or something out of antique shop.
   One Sunday evening, our children asked, "Can we drive home a different way?" after the church service. As we took a longer detour around the subdivision, we spotted a white washing machine out for garbage day.  The next morning (actually 3:00 AM),  my husband drove there again for a closer look.  It had a broken agitator, but it was a similar model with a functional transmission!  After his December exams, he gave the old washing machine a transmission transplant that extended its life for two full years.
   When that washing machine finally gave up the ghost, a patron of the food bank where my husband was then working told him he had a washing machine in his house that we could have for free.  This gentleman used to pick up appliances put out for garbage day to repair and then sell.  From 2007 until the end of 2015, this one served us well.  Yes, it occasionally did not spin out the second load when two loads were washed back to back, but resettling the damp clothing and turning on the spin cycle again would work just fine.
   At the start of 2015, because we knew it would eventually quit on us, we decided to start saving up for a new washing machine by setting aside $100 per month until we reached our goal.  At least twice during that period when we had accumulated $300 to $400, we came upon an urgent need in our community and gave away this appliance fund to help out.  After the second time it happened, we felt led to stop saving up for a washing machine.
   Last fall, our brother-in-law told us he had a washing machine he did not need.  Some folks had moved into a house and wanted new appliances even though there was nothing wrong with the existing washer.  They asked our brother-in-law to please take away the washing machine and give it a good home.
   In October we removed a seat from our minivan to make room for the washing machine and drove it to our house.  Not surprisingly, about a week later the old washing machine broke decisively. There was no stress about where to get another one quickly.  Even in the mundane things, I can see God's care over our family.  It's not because we are better than anyone else.  We give God the glory.

Because of a Pork Chop

Freerange stock photo

   Sometimes one small action or event leads to a chain of further events.  This is illustrated in the anonymous proverbial poem "For the want of a nail."

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

   The type of shoe spoken of here is a horse shoe, so the setting is a battle in the middle ages where a missing nail in a horse shoe ended up spelling disaster.  I shared this poem with my Grade 4 writing class this week as an illustration of a pattern poem.  Reflecting on the idea of a chain reaction beginning with one simple event, I recalled how a series of events began with a pork chop.
   Twelve years ago this summer, my husband was an adult leader at a boys camp out.  The boys aged about 7 to 13 years of age were part of a church-run club that annually took part in an overnight camping trip.  One particular boy, who I'll call Buddy, was going through some struggles as a result of his parents getting a divorce.  At supper time, the leaders and some of the boys had prepared pork chops and potatoes, but Buddy was later than everyone else to get to the table.  When the pork chops were being divided onto the boys' plates, only one small one was left for Buddy. Feeling that he had been cheated out of his rightful share of meat, Buddy not only became angry, he decided to leave.  It turns out that Buddy lived within walking distance [but more than an hour's walk] of the area they were camping in.
   Because Buddy decided to break away from the group, my husband as a leader went after him on foot.  He informed the other leaders where he was going and tried to catch up with the boy, hoping to convince him to finish up the weekend with his friends.  When he caught up with Buddy, the boy did not feel much like talking, but certain things spilled out including that his "life sucks." Eventually, Buddy was close enough to home that he convinced my husband that he did not need to be accompanied anymore.
   Now some distance from the camp, my husband noticed it was getting dark.  He assumed that one of the other leaders would come pick him up in a truck, but it took quite a while.  Since he did not have the opportunity very often, my husband sat down in a patch of grass alongside the country road and watched the sun set.
   As he did so, he felt the close presence of God, not just in the sunset but in the whole situation.  He was all alone with God in nature, and various things spoke to him about making a change of direction in his life.  What had pushed Buddy to anger and distress was a broken family, so my husband began thinking about the kinds of things that could help prevent such break ups.
   Although he enjoyed his work in the family business, he felt God calling him to do something different that might have a greater impact on families in general.
   When he got home from the camping trip, this experience led to a conversation with me.  As he expressed what had happened and the sense of calling, we explored various options together.  We had three preschool children, and everything pointed to leaving the community my husband had spend virtually his whole life in.  A few doors closed and others opened.  Eleven years ago we moved two hours west so my husband could go back to school to get some training in the field of relating to people.
   Although his current day job deals with a variety of people, he did not become a counselor.  He finds it very fulfilling to help others through the food bank where he is employed.  Some years ago, we found another couple passionate about giving tools to couples that will help them weather the storms of life together rather than parting company.  We have jointly facilitated marriage preparation classes and the marriage course through Alpha Ministries.
   I acknowledge that we live in the city where we do and that we help lead marriage preparation classes at our church "because of a pork chop."

Survival Psalms

   Survival stories have always fascinated me.  While it is possible to attribute the survival or an individual or a group to the "indomitable human spirit," there is often more to such stories than meets the eye.  When Jesus said, "Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God," we may not grasp the truth of such a statement given our well-stocked pantries and fridges.  I'd like to share the stories of two modern, ordinary folk who experienced the hand of God in their remarkable survivals and the link to the psalms of David.
Rita Chretien
   I learned of Rita's story through the news program called Context.  The episode "Lost" used to be on the internet, but has since been removed.  In the early spring of 2011, Rita and her husband were traveling from the west coast of Canada to a trade show in Las Vegas, Nevada, when their van became stuck in a deep muddy bog that came in the middle of a route their GPS suggested to them.  All attempts to drive out of the mud failed, and the remote place in the Nevada wilderness had no cell phone reception. Because Rita had trouble walking due to a weak ankle, her husband Albert determined to leave her and get help. He never returned.
   Meanwhile, Rita stayed with her van.  There was a small supply of trail mix (a mixture of nuts, raisins and sunflower seeds) in her van along with  a tin of candies.  For the first week she ate a tablespoon per day of trail mix and one candy.  When her water bottles ran out, she walked every other day to refill them at a stream, where she found sandy water that was palatable once the sand settled to the bottom.  After one week passed, all she consumed was one candy and one fish oil capsule per day and water.  It took 49 days before some hunters on ATV's passed by her van and rescued her.
   How is this story even possible?  In the Rule of 3, author Eric Walters points out that a person can survive three minutes without air, three days without water and three weeks without food. Obviously, something more was going on with Rita Chretien's life.  She had a source of nourishment that went beyond food.  Rita readily admits that it was the LORD who was with her during this time of isolation.  She read the Bible and she prayed.  She asked God moment by moment, "What should I do?" and felt led to the stream of water.  At times she imagined a meal that she would love to eat. She would ask the LORD to bless it and asked him to give her the nutrition that would have come if she had actually eaten it.  Day after day she did not give into despair.  She had a confidence that things would be OK as long as her relationship with God was foremost.
   One passage she highlighted as having special meaning for her was from Psalm 86:2-7

2 Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
    save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; 3 have mercy on me, Lord,
    for I call to you all day long.
4 Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
    for I put my trust in you.

5 You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
    abounding in love to all who call to you.
6 Hear my prayer, Lord;
    listen to my cry for mercy.
7 When I am in distress, I call to you,
    because you answer me.

   It was not until the day of her rescue that she began to realize the toll that her ordeal was taking on her bodily strength.  Coming back from her short daily exercise walk, she began to be short of breath and weakness overcame her.  She barely made it to her van and thought to herself that she might die. She lay down to rest in the van until a few hours later when she heard the engines of the ATV's coming nearby.  These hunters were not looking for her, and they had deviated from the route they had originally planned to take through the area in search of elk antlers.  They took her to civilization, and she spent time in hospital recovering.
   The remains of her husband's body were found in August of 2012, but Rita is assured that he is now fully enjoying communion with his LORD of which she had experienced just a foretaste during her time in the wilderness.

Harrison Odjegba Okene
   In May of 2013, Harrison was working as a cook aboard a tugboat, the Jascon 4 in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Nigeria.  Suddenly a wave caused the boat to capsize and sink to the bottom of the ocean; however, Harrison found himself in a small air pocket submerged in salt water up to his waist.  Meanwhile, the other crew members had been locked inside their cabins due to protocols and drowned.
   He had just one can of Coke to drink for the next 70 hours.  In this dark and quiet place, Harrison cried out to God through the Psalms that his wife had sent him via text message.  He focused on Psalm 54, a prayer of deliverance, which follows from verse 1-2 and 4:

Save me, O God, by your name;
    vindicate me by your might.
2 Hear my prayer, O God;
    listen to the words of my mouth...

4 Surely God is my help;
    the Lord is the one who sustains me.

Against hope, a salvage crew from the Dutch company DCN came along to recover bodies and whatever materials they could from the wreck.  However they found a hand waving and a living man whose air pocket had been almost depleted of oxygen.  After his rescue, Harrison testified of God's care during his ordeal.  A news article about his rescue can be found here.

For another survival story on this blog, check out:
Endurance is not enough

Little Providences

   Over the past few months I have been tracking different incidents where God showed Himself providentially at work.  Some of these events left me with some type of gift, but during others I became part of a gift to someone else.

• One morning I was rushing around at home in order to get to work on time.  It was the Thursday before Easter, and I needed to begin teaching at 11:45 am.  I did not have much time to spare; I allow about ten minutes to walk to work plus some margin to get set up in the classroom I will be using.  There are two different paths I usually take to arrive at work.  This particular morning, I briefly hesitated when the path split between two possibilities.  I carried on in a certain direction.  A few minutes later, I encountered a woman I knew who was delivering flower arrangements for Easter.  She asked me if I was going to the school that her grandchildren attended.  I replied, "Yes."  Then she asked if I could please give them each a bus ticket that she held out to me.  They would know what it meant, she added.  I agreed and carried on with my walk to work.  When the students had a break for lunch, I was able to deliver the tickets I had been asked to do.  If I had left my house sooner, would I have met this lady?  If I had taken a different path to school, would I have been able to help out in this way?
• Our 18 year old minivan had been leaking some fluid onto our driveway, so we called the garage to check it out for us.  The appointment was in a couple of days, so we kept driving the vehicle.  On my way home from a prison Bible study, I parked the van outside the garage and walked the rest of the way home.  The next morning the garage called asking, "How did you drive this minivan here?  The power steering pump is completely broken.  Because of the interconnection with the hydraulic system, the brakes should have been affected as well." Apparently, the mechanic had extreme difficulty cranking the steering wheel in order to advance the vehicle into the service bay.  When the van was repaired, the mechanic kept shaking his head at how a part so damaged could have had no effect while we were driving it. True, it is possible that it was holding together right until the moment it was parked and that it broke overnight.  Very mysterious.  Very blessed!
• I try my best to purchase my groceries all at once on a particular day of the week.  I know that this is the way to spend less than spontaneous trips over several days when you "need" something.  One afternoon I truly did need four items to carry me over to my next big shopping day, including a dozen eggs.  As I stood in the express check-out line, a woman I had never met before came up to me and said, "Thank you."  When I gave her a puzzled glance, she said that she would have forgotten to buy eggs if she had not seen my package on the belt.  Off she rushed to add this item to her basket.  I was just paying for my purchase when she came back with all she now needed.  Again, she thanked me.  Sometimes we can beat ourselves up about not living up to our own standards.  Maybe there's a reason we need to be in a particular place at a particular time that has nothing to do with us.  If my absent-mindedness ends up helping someone else in the end, then I need to just smile and be grateful.
• In addition to my part-time teaching role, I also provide editing for a few theology students and engineers for whom English is not their first language.  It is the nature of this type of work that requests to look over a document come right before the person's due date; thus, I need to help them urgently.  This week I received a similar request, but the assignment was actually already past due.  I had about 90 minutes before I had to leave for work as I downloaded the paper. I was dismayed that it was 15 pages double-spaced. On a good day, I am able to edit 7-8 pages per hour, depending on the writer's skill with English grammar and expressions.  I replied to him that I would get started, but that I probably would not be able to complete it in the time I had. As I made corrections and suggestions, I continued to progress.  When I arrived at the end of page 15, only one hour had elapsed.  I know I was given special grace to finish the work on time because I have never been able to be that time-efficient.  Soli deo gloria.

Guest Post by Lori: Find a Penny

  This post comes from someone I have never met, whose name is Lori.  She writes a blog entitled Hope Feathers, which is filled with insights about daily life, faith and hope.  Lori lives in Maryland, is married and has three daughters.  She has been a teacher and still works at a school, but not in the classroom.  She graciously gave me permission to include this piece that she entitled "Find a Penny."

Photo courtesy of Hope Feathers

If you know me well, you know that if I find a penny on the ground, I will hand it to you and say, “Don’t forget. God provides.”

You might be tempted to look at me out of the corner of your eye with that “OK, thanks, I guess. What happened to the traditional, ‘Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck’ rhyme?”

When I was in college, I attended a women’s bible study led by an authentic, compassionate woman who loved teaching about the Lord. She felt such a calling to teach and lead women that she left her job to start a women’s ministry in Nashville. She spoke about the risk involved in this decision  especially in terms of a regular paycheck. Some months she wasn’t sure if there would be enough money to pay all of her bills, but week after week, month after month, there was always enough.  She still experienced days of worry when she questioned her decision and wondered if she was doing the right thing. One day in particular, she felt especially hopeless. As she tried to convince herself that a 9-5 job would be so much easier, she looked down and spotted a penny on the ground. As she bent down to pick up the coin, she heard in her head, “God provides.” She shook her head and walked to her apartment.  Waiting at her door was a bag full of groceries and a note of encouragement from a woman she hardly knew. A note was attached:, “I hope you don’t think this is strange, but I was at the store and felt like I should share these groceries with you for some reason…”

And so it began. Coins became a great reminder that God would help if she continued to trust Him. This didn’t mean that she would have all of the material things she could ever want. It didn’t mean she would never wonder about how she would pay her bills, but over and over again, she saw the truth in those two words, and she began to trust that God would provide for her.

I watched firsthand what it looked like for someone else to trust God and to see Him provide in ways that I never imagined possible. Every time I spotted a coin, I  reminded myself that “God provides.” My girls roll their eyes a bit whenever we are walking in the street, and I find a dime.

I gleefully do a little dance (for their benefit of course) and as I hand one of them the coin, I say, “Girls, you know what this means!”

They respond in that “WE KNOW, MOM” voice and indulge me a bit with “God provides,” but they giggle a little too, and they are also learning that it’s true. Not that God provides everything they want, but He will give them what they need.

We have seen it on the days when everything happened just like we hoped, but we have also seen it during times of struggle, days of uncertainty, and moments of loss. Even in seasons when we looked at each other through our tears and wondered about unexplainable suffering in the lives of those we love, we have been comforted by countless stories of God being close in the darkest moments.


Hoping the next time you find a penny, you might be reminded of something more than luck.

Gaining Perspective

   When something new comes into our lives, our self-talk helps us to either cope well or cope poorly. Change is inevitable, but even changes we perceive to be positive, such as the job promotion, getting married, or purchasing a house bring with them a level of stress, according to psychologists. How much more so when change is deemed to be an intrusion to a well-ordered life.
   For myself, I have consciously sought a broad perspective when examining change in my life. Here are two examples I'd like to share:

First teaching job

   After I graduated from teacher's college in 1994, I was offered a job at a brand new school with an enrollment of just 27 students.  Knowing that one-room schools had been the norm in my dad's generation made me relieved that my assigned classroom would consist of only four grades, from Grade 5 to Grade 8.  Other people had done this, including one of my uncles.  He actually taught Grades 4-8 in one classroom for a number of years, so I decided to spend a few days with his class before school let out that June.  I gleaned classroom management tips to help me with a tough assignment for even a veteran teacher.  By the time school actually started that fall, class assignments shifted so that I had only Grade 6, 7 & 8.  About one month into the school year, the board of directors, which consisted of parents at this privately funded school, recognized the need for one of the teachers to take on the role of principal.  Yes, I was still a rookie teacher, but I was single and energetic and felt this was something God had called me to do.  At least a few people who heard what I was doing frowned upon it.  Because I chose to see my situation as being within the realm of things that ordinary people have dealt with, I was able to cope. (I don't mean to say it was sustainable because after getting married it really was too much for me, and I resigned at the end of the third school year.)

Short Notice   

   One time when I was on the "Welcome and Hospitality" Committee at a former church, I was given a couple days notice to find hosts for over a dozen choir members from India.  Through an oversight the pastor forgot to share this information with me until that late hour.  First, I was overwhelmed with the task.  The group was also expecting a catered dinner at the church when they arrived in the evening.

   I took a step back and broke the task down.  I began to focus on the needs of the people coming on this choir tour and found a way to create three sleeping spaces in my own house.  I called people from my committee, who I felt would be open to hospitality, and persisted beyond that list when some said they could not do it because they did not have enough notice.  I thought of the early church which provided hospitality so freely because hotels and inns had a reputation for immorality.  

   After I had made all the sleeping arrangements, I thought about which busy women would answer the call to cook a meal for those they considered strangers.  I looked in my More With Less Cookbook and found two simple stew recipes (one vegetarian) that I could double and make at home.  I informed the contact person that the choir should come to my residence instead of the church for dinner.  When I think about it now, it turned out to be such a blessing to be able to serve a meal to these people, even though all the bowls did not match.  I heard them perform later that night and was incredibly moved to help them in what I began to see was just a small way.

Questions that give me Perspective amid Change

• How did people in Bible times deal with similar circumstances?
• How do/did people manage (without a car, without mattresses, without a washing machine) in other places and times?
• Where can I find support to help me?  How can I rely on God?
• How can I find something positive in this situation?
• How can I become more understanding of the struggles of others through this situation?
• Is this a "first world problem"? (from the title of Craig Kielburger's pocket size book, Your Grandma Follows You on Twitter and other First World Problems We're Lucky to Have.) 

29 years ago today: Tornadoes

   I clearly remember the day a string of 13 tornadoes touched down in Central Ontario, Canada on May 31, 1985.  Some of the cities and towns affected were Barrie, Holland Marsh, Tottenham, Grand Valley and Orangeville through property damage, loss of life and injuries [1].
   My family has a strong recollection of that day due to an interruption of plans my parents had.  My parents' farm was about a twenty minute drive from Barrie, but it was not a common destination for shopping. However, on the afternoon of May 31 it was determined that they would take my uncle, who was visiting from the Netherlands, to that city to pick up a thing or two. Just minutes before they were going to leave, a red pick up truck edged with rust came up the driveway. One of my dad's friends from church was stopping in for a visit.  My parents are known for their hospitality and did not mention their plans to go away.  They just set those plans aside and had a conversation over a cup of coffee and cookies. There was nothing particularly memorable about what they discussed.
   By the time their visit was over, it was too late to drive to Barrie, plus the weather had turned foul. Thunder and lightning accompanied a downpour, and the power was knocked out.  Eventually, we became aware of the big tornado that hit Barrie at the approximate time and location where my parents would have been if their plans had gone ahead.
   Sometimes that annoying phone call when you are about to go out the door or the longer-than-usual wait at a stop light just might be meant to keep you safe from a danger you may never have considered.

[1]http://canadatornado.com/ontario/history/ will give some more details, under the year 1985, if you are interested.

Dominican Republic #3: From Sponsored child to Translator

   During the short-term service trip that I took part in last month, our group was assigned a translator, a 36 year old man named Victor.  Through our conversations with him, we came to know his story.

Victor, left, lends his phone to track down a missing piece of luggage.

   When he was a young child Victor’s mother was heavily involved in witchcraft.  People would come to his house to have their fortunes told and to get spiritual help when they were in trouble.  He remembers seeing his mother in fits where demons came over her.  She was absolutely opposed to Victor, her firstborn, reading the Bible or having any contact with Christianity.  Thus for his first years he was ignorant of the true God.

   For some reason, his mother softened a little when there were prospects for Victor to go to school.  The only way the family could afford education was through child sponsorship with Compassion®.  One of this agency’s stipulations was that the child be permitted to attend Bible classes on Saturdays.  Even though it meant Victor would be exposed to the Bible, his mother went along with it.

   Victor came to know the Lord through these classes.  At the age of five or six he recognized he had the talent for memorizing Bible verses.  He continued his education; he is grateful that eventually his mother also became a believer in the one true God and turned away from her previous practices. 

   Currently Victor acts as a host/translator for the teams sent from Canada to assist COCREF (a federation of 16 Christian schools).  He was incredibly patient with us, explaining nuances of the Dominican way of life.  He also pitched in with the construction work, although it seemed to go above and beyond his role.  Since this job as host and translator for work teams is seasonal, he also does written translations for Compassion® when children and their sponsors correspond with each other.  Depending on the week, he will translate between 200 and 400 pieces of correspondence for this agency; he is paid by the piece.  He told us that about 50,000 Dominican children are sponsored through this agency.

   Victor is a praise team leader at a large church that was founded by Korean missionaries.  He also speaks some conversational Korean.  He and his wife have four children; the youngest is a girl whose name is based on the Hebrew word “Jireh,” associated with God as our provider.

   My youngest daughter and I jointly sponsor a Compassion® child in the Dominican.  Even though it didn’t work out for me to visit the girl we sponsor, my experience with Victor confirmed the long-term impact such a sponsorship can have.