*big sigh*

This will eventually all come to an end, right? Someday, I will get my priorities in order and decide what I want to do with my life, right? And God will eventually get through my thick skull what I'm supposed to be doing, yes?

I really don't get exactly why everything is so confusing at the moment. I had a meltdown on Wednesday, which I am attributing to the pain-in-the-butt that readjusting is. I went from working on textbooks and spreadsheets several hours a day to filling my time with whatever I can find, and certainly nothing meaningful. I need to find a job, for one thing. I need to do something, so that I'm not just sitting here, thinking myself into a frenzy.

I am really going through a fight right now. A conflict. And it honestly sounds dumb to me. But at the same time, it makes perfect sense. I cam back from this trip early, and I know that someday I would like to go back. But it seems like I just have this dull, nagging fear, note, I say fear, not feeling, that I'm going to end up living there forever. Please don't misunderstand this. I love Paraguay and the people I met there were amazing. I, except in times of serious panic and crazy spells, don't regret going. But there are people out there that, and I know they are encouraging, seem to think that my life's calling is to live there forever. I want to go back, but I really, really do not want to live there  forever. There were things I didn't like, things I missed, and things that flat out scared the crap out of me. I was living in a country right next to a very, very unstable country. I had a friend whose parents are trapped in her home country thanks to communism. I'm cut out for short-term AIM work, but the life of a missionary is not something I can see myself just loving every second of. I want to stay here, go to college, get a job, and have a family. While I was there, if I can be extremely honest, I never really felt safe. Not the kind of safe like out of danger safe. I was always afraid something was going to happen to someone. An emergency would occur and something would happen and I would be a 24-hour journey away. I'm an attached person, which is both good and bad. And I honestly don't know if these feelings are normal for a post-AIM trip person, because I don't know anyone that's had a situation like mine.  I'm scared I'm going to do the wrong thing. I'm afraid that someday, I'm going to look back and realize how wrong I was, no matter what decision I make. I'm scared.

I'm sorry that my last post was so vague and I left you hanging. Here's this other huge thing. The thing that has a lot of people putting a lot of pressure on me.

College has always been a huge thing for me. Ever since I was little, I knew I wanted to go to school and do something awesome. Of  course, back then, I wanted to be a doctor, but then I turned sixteen and decided that it just wasn't going to happen. For the past two years, I have been trying to find a place and an idea of what I want. And I just don't know what that is anymore. I thought I wanted to be a teacher. I really do love kids, but honestly, I don't know if that's what I really want to do. I don't know what I want in that area. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, so to speak. Which is why I am very indecisive at the moment and am thinking about going back to an original plan.

Because I don't know what I want to do, and Gateway doesn't have very many options, I think I have decided that in January, I will be going to Kent State. I love that school, and have since the moment I walked on campus. I got offered a very nice scholarship, and had my heart set on it. They have programs for both things I am considering, and if I hate one, I can switch to the other, or make another plan. They have a Spanish program, which is very important to me.  I've always loved that area of Ohio, with Cleveland and Akron, and all of those other places that I love, and when I went to St.Louis, I just wasn't that big of a fan. I didn't see much of it, of course, but I don't know. The reasoning for me is that it is much more likely that my coursework will transfer from Kent to Gateway, as Kent is accredited and core classes would probably help some, than that Gateway, which is non-accredited, would have credits that would transfer to Kent. I just don't know for sure, but I just feel like this is what I should do. I really don't know. And that bothers me. I feel like I'm starting back at square one. I've always had a plan. A long-term plan, and now I'm just not sure. I wish I knew.

I wish I had known I was coming back early back when I was making college plans. Maybe things would be a little clearer now.

Hypotheticals?

Suppose you're deciding between two options. And you go, "Gee, I would like a sign."

And then a literal thirty-foot sign shows up right in front of you, plastered on the front of a building.

What do you do?

My Brain Is Running Rampent

This is the first Saturday in a while that I haven't been doing my own laundry, rushing off to a youth activity, or going to church. It's my first weekend in the U.S. all summer, and honestly, I don't think my brain should be allowed to have free time right now. Because, it worries way too much, and gets stressed out and angsty. I'm just a stressed out and angsty person anyway, but this portion of my personality has been relatively curved by an excessive amount of empanadas, lomito arabes, and verb conjugation over the past seven weeks, and when you're working on Excel Spreadsheets and building titles, you really just don't have time to think about the things that just make you want to punch babies.

Because my trip ended up being way shorter than I assumed, my life is kind of at a stand-still, Dear-God-where-do-I-go-from-here phase. I don't like this at all. I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to work, because I can't stand people who sit around at home and do nothing, and would like to be somewhat of a grown-up and earn money and take some control of my finances. I need to get a driver's license, which I've wanted to do for a long time, but I'm getting to the point where I just feel like a mooching moron when I have to ask people to drive me places. I hate being dependent on other people. I just don't like that feeling. I need a car. I have money from graduation still, thanks to the abbreviation of that trip, but I need to cover insurance and all of that, too.

I am trying to figure out what I want to do about school. This is really, really stressful, and especially over the past week has had me in fits. I wish I had known that I was going to be back right now. I would be on my way to Kent State or Gateway and I wouldn't have to juggle a million other things trying to figure out what I am trying to do and how to do it. I wish I was moving into school right now with my friends. It sounds really fun and I'm ready to be a grown-up. I missed home, and I don't know how I feel about leaving again, but it's just the thought that things are just so much more complicated than they had to be. I wish I had just known. But I didn't.

I know that I had to go and that it wasn't my fault. If you're reading this and don't believe that, I'm sorry, but that's the truth. That's the thing that really sucks about coming back from something that just didn't work the way it was planned. People talk. You're not supposed to care, and you're supposed to let it roll off, but when you get the looks and hear or see people talking about you, it's just not fun. One person in particular has hurt me with this, someone I thought would understand. I'm having a hard enough time reminding myself that I didn't have a choice and that this wasn't my fault, and having a good friend doubt you and say things like, "Well, I just feel that there should have been some way for you to stay," doesn't give you that warm, fuzzy feeling that you were a smashing success in the work and you didn't fail miserably. It reminds me of what my family went through a few years ago coming back from pastoring. I wasn't stupid, deaf, or blind. I knew people talked about us. I knew people spread their own stupid theories without bothering to find out the truth or how any of us were affected. It's a fact of life. People are stupid and say stupid things. And it hurts. A lot.

The whole situation that I'm in just seems stupid and unnecessary. I put off a semester of college that I didn't have to. I don't regret going, not for a second. I just feel like I should still be there working, and that coming back early makes me some kind of failure. I don't know where to go from here and how to dig myself out. I feel completely lost.

The Long Version

I got back into the United States at about 6 this morning. I left Paraguay at 3 yesterday afternoon, and cried most of the way from Asuncion to Buenos Aires.

I've known for three weeks. So have my parents, my pastor, and a select few others. It was a surprisingly well kept secret.

There are a variety of reasons why I'm back. There was a lot of sickness, which I mentioned. The people I was supposed to live with got sick, and I wasn't allowed to stay with the missionaries for an extended period of time. We sat down at breakfast and they explained the variety of issues and explained that no, I was not in trouble, this was just not the right time for me to be in Paraguay. They suggested that I go home for a while, go to college, but they definitely wanted me to come back after college. They didn't want me to go, and I didn't want to go. But it was necessary.

I love Paraguay and I will most likely pray every day until I am able to return that I get the opportunity to go back. That country will always have a piece of my heart in it, and I will never forget the people that I met there or the experiences that I had. I'm not saying that I want to go live there forever, just that my work is definitely not done there, and I have to go back someday. I had to keep telling myself that when we took off from Asuncion.

"I will be back."

The trip back was an adventure in and of itself. I'll tell more about that later. Right now I need to sleep and convince myself that I'm really home and I'm not just dreaming.

The Short Version

I'm sitting in my living room in Ohio. I'm not in Paraguay. Give me a chance to write out the long version.

Pardon Me, Senor, But That is My Wall You Are Scurrying Across

I had a little buddy crawl into my room today. He seems to have disappeared. This scares me a little. I don't think that I want to know where he disappeared to.

RIP Meesha

I got the sad news via Facebook today that Dawn's dog, Meesha, died. She was really old and fairly decrepid for a while, and they expected her to go, but it's still pretty sad, seeing as I pretty much lived at Dawn's house and got used to Meesha being around, constantly nudging you if you weren't paying her enough attention, and of course her frequent...umm..stomach irritation. She's was my dog's mom, a fact which my brother always seemed to remind her when he visited Dawn's house. The picture above is during the giant snowstorm that hit last year, playing in the snowdrifts.

RIP Meesha. You will be missed.

To My Church

But you have carefully followed my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, longsuffering, love, perseverance, persecutions, afflictions... what persecutions I endured. And out of them all the Lord delivered me. Yes, and all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution. But evil men and impostors will grow worse and worse, deceiving and being deceived. But you must continue in the things which you have learned and been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work.

-II Timothy 3:10-17

I don't talk about my faith a lot on this blog. I have never been a deep theological person, and I very rarely will come out and talk about my walk and my faith. There come times, though, that life is wrought with spiritual battles and it all seems to hit at the same time. At these times, I find it hard to not think about my faith, and when I'm thinking about God, God spills onto the page as I write. 

I'm 6000 miles away from my church family right now, but through a variety of different mediums, I have heard about the fight that the church has been up against. At first, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good for me," I thought, "I escaped just in time. Thank you, God!" And then it kept piling up, one thing after another. and I began to feel guilty for not being there to stand and fight with them and helping in anyway that I could. 

The worst thing you could do when you read this is leave a comment and say, "Don't worry about us; you have a higher calling and more important things to worry about us. You just worry about what you're doing." I know you people mean well, but that church is my church, will always be my church, and when things go down in my church, I want to help fight with the church family who's been there for me in some tough times. Particularly over the past month. 

I know that not many of the people from church read this, but for those who do, this post is for you. It's not a lot, but it's the only help I can offer you from a different hemisphere. I can only encourage and uplift you, and let you know that prayers are going up from here, as I know that they've been going up for me from all of you. This fight is for a reason. Something good is going to happen. Something is right on the horizon that is going to make this little taste of Hell that so many families have been having in their lives seem worth it. Hang in there and be strong. I know it all seems cliche. I hate cliches. My friends know that more than anyone. But it's the truth. Do not give up.  That's the only thing that I can say.

Pretty much anyone who has been in church for any length of time (or has happened to turn on the radio and heard the song) is familiar with Ecclesiastes 3.

1	To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2	a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which isplanted;
3	a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4	a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5	a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6	a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7	a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8	a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
9	What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboreth?
10	¶ I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.
11	He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

God will make these battles worth it in his time. He's still there even if some of you can't see him. This will not last forever. If you notice, the time of war is listed before the time of peace. The peace does come. Just a little later.

I don't think that this is one of the best posts I've ever written. Probably one of the least literary sound pieces, actually. But I hope that someone was able to draw some encouragement out of it. 

What's This? A Trip?

I actually made a trip to Asuncion today! *gasp* Say what?

Oh, and this is cool. It's an avocado tree. Outside of McDonald's.

Plus, today is a holiday. So, the school was all decked out today.

And, I bought some stuff to send home to my brother and sister. Behold- my sister's new friend:

In Which FAIL Abounds and Santa Claus is a Freak

There are a variety of things that my Paraguayan friends think are weird about Americans. Santa, for example. For those of you not in the know, the seasons here are backwards. Christmas is in the summer here. So, while I was talking to my friend, Cesar, about this phenomenon, he brings up that he has always seen the American and European portrayals of Santa Claus and thinks that we are up a wall. "Why is Santa wearing a fur coat and a hat, with gloves and boots. It's 110 degrees here during summer!"

Good point. Santa is insane. I'm sure he dresses in layers to accommodate this change in temperature.

Debora thinks that we charge too much for stuff. Amen to that. We were talking about hair things and she was talking about how people here wear chopsticks and flower pins in their hair all the time. I love flower pins, which she knows, and she was telling me that a flower pin here is about 2-4 mil guaranies. AKA- 40-80 cents. My eyes bugged out and she was amused. "Are they expensive in the United States?"

"About three or four dollars."

Her husband, very money knowledgeable,  translates this. "20 mil guaranies."

At this point, it's Debora's turn for the bugging of the eyes. "Thursday, we are going to Asuncion, and we are going to buy hair flowers and other things."

So, today, I was supposed to go to Asuncion. I did not get to go to Asuncion, because a teacher was sick, and Debora had to sub. Tomorrow is a holiday, a big holiday for the kids, so we can't go then either. Is anyone noticing a trend here? Whenever I plan to go somewhere, something comes up? Two cancelled Argentine trips, one Ciudad del Este trip, and now an Asuncion trip? Come one, people! Cut me some slack here!

This weekend there is going to be a Dia de Deportes, and I'm debating whether or not to go. I don't play sports. I get hurt if I play sports. It's not good.  Maybe I'll try to persuade someone to go to Cerro Lambare with me. Another trip that's been cancelled about three or more times. And it's in the city where I live!

FAIL. FAIL. FAIL.

La Panecilla Gordita

Here in Paraguay, it is endearing to be short, pale, and chunky. I fit in well here. I am short, pale, and chunky. This has earned me nicknames among the girls I hang with. Things like chiquitita, which I must confess makes me want to break out into an ABBA number, and gordita. These things, especially the latter, should probably bother me, as gordita pretty much translates into "little, chunky one" and chiquitita translates, essentially, into "little short thing". But typically, they just make me laugh and I don't mind at all. It's okay for me to be tubby here. I kind of like it. Anyway, enough with that.

Tonight contained one of those events after which you are kind of left scratching your head going, "What the heck?" What happened was I'm sitting there, chatting along with the usual group of ladies- Mauyury, Debora, Teresa, Mami, Kati- and Debora picks up my hand and looks at it.

"Kati!", she says, in Spanish of course, "Her hands look like your sister's!"

Kati and her sister, Cindy, are both fairly pale, and Kati has very light, almost a dirty blonde, hair. This makes a lot of the guys like her. Cindy is built like me, although she is taller. What they were referring to here, were my short, chubby fingers, something I'm used to getting ribbed for, especially in piano classes. I have sausage fingers.

See?

They are chubby, and that is okay. I like my chubby fingers.

So, anyway, Kati comes over and of course, squeals because Debora is right. My hands are short, pale, and chubby like her sister's apparently are. I would not know this, of course. And then they make the statement that leaves me going, "Eh?"

"Her hand looks like an empanada!"

Apparently, when I make a fist, my hand looks like this-

I couldn't decide exactly whether or not I should be offended. I decided not to, and instead broke out into hysterical laughter, because honestly, it was pretty hilarious. And because I am a little gordita.

More On Mail Prizes

I was very excited yesterday morning to be able to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch for the first time in over a month.   Unfortunately, this was packed next to the fabric softener (we don't have that here), and so my first bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch had a subtle hint of Springtime Scent. Yummy. I had regular toast for breakfast this morning.

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I received two dark chocolate Dove bars in my box from my parents. I promised to practice self-restraint and make them last for at least a week. I ate the last one last night. 

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I also received Season Two of Bridezillas. I'm done watching all of that already, too. I have such discipline.  

Communism and More Pleasant Subjects

I had one of those conversations today that just gives you the chills. Something that in the United States, I probably would have shaken off and gone, "Oh, that's not good." We were talking about a friend of mine here from Venezuela. She's having a baby- and is due on my birthday, actually- and her parents planned on coming down around that time. For those of you who don't know, Venezuela is a little bit of a wreck right now and in the past few weeks, things have gone from bad to worse. Her parents are no longer able to get a visa, as it turns out, and will not be able to come here. The Birs also told me that 34 radio stations were shut down there next week.  The situation in South America is not good. You all probably knew that South America has its problems, but when you're living next to a country that just took out a $100 million loan to buy arms from Russia (like me, living next to Bolivia), you start to care about these things. Now, don't all freak out about me. I'm okay, and there are no immediate threats to Paraguay, but the possibility is out there someday. No time in the immediate future, and probably not for several years, God willing. It's just terrifying to think that someday the friends I have made here will possibly be put into a situation like that. The situation is personal now, and I'm not liking it. I don't like how close I am to this situation, but at the same time, it is a rather big wake up call to me as to just how clueless I am about what is going on in the world and what people go through. It's another one of those reminders as to just how good I have it living in the United States.

On the other hand, here's another thing you don't have to worry about (usually) in the United States. We all complain about the traffic jams and crazy drivers plugging up the roads, but when was the last time that within the course of two days you had to wait for a herd of cows and three horses to get out of the road so that you could move along. Our roads are pretty awful here anyway, and waiting for differing varieties of cattle to pass you by is a fairly regular occurrence. I've been trying to get a picture of the cows since my first week here.

This picture I took especially for Michael, because Ben 10 is a big thing here, and he happens to love Ben 10. You all benefit, though, because you get to see what a Happy Meal is in Spanish. Technically, it translates into  "happy little box".

The best part of the day had to be Bro.Bir going to the post office. I have received not one, but two packages today. My parents sent me a box about a month or so ago, and it just got in last week. There were amazing things like Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Dove Chocolate inside, not to mention a season of Bridezillas, Napoleon Dynamite, a lizard from my brother (no, not a real one), and a dried rose that didn't quite survive the journey, as well as a picture from my sister,  among other things. The surprise was that my second box was from my Non-Dancing Australian BFFFFFFFFFF (don't ask), Carolyn. It was really a padded envelope, but I'm writing this post,  not you, so I'll call it what I want.

There was a lovely note that got me all teary eyed and a Twilight bag, which was, let's be honest, absolutely amazing. Good ending to a day full of Communists and cattle, if I do say so myself.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Although Carolyn's awesome present came through in a week, things usually don't happen like that. Mail usually takes about five or six weeks to get to me at the moment, and I've been having some problems getting it, so if you could please hold off on sending me stuff for the time being that would be great. Emails are awesome, and I love them, but mail right now is a little bit of a hassle. If things get better, I'll sound the all-clear and let you know. Thanks for understanding!!

My Morning= FAIL

Let's review:

1. I wake up at my normal time of 5:45. FAIL in itself.
2. I forgot that today is English lesson day. Which means we don't leave until 8. I could have had an extra hour of sleep. I dozed a little but woke up every 15 minutes just to make sure they didn't leave with out me. FAIL.
3. We leave at 8:30 and as we drive down our little alley of Pasaje Francisco Barrio, we stop and I get a slight feeling that I'm tilting to the side slowly. I think it's just my imagination
4. Nope. Apparently the tires got slashed when Bro.Bir went to Argentina last night. (Sis.Bir and I didn't end up going)
5. We had to stand on the side of the road for about 45 minutes while this guy fixed our tire that was slashed and changed our tire.
6. WIN. We went back and had french toast.
7. I come here and work on the third grade workbook/textbook. Found out I've been putting in the wrong writing sheet lines in the book. Had to go back, delete them, and replace them.
8. Twitter and Facebook don't seem to feel like working.

There will be pizza for lunch. That should improve my mood. Dear Lord, I hope so.

Proofreading Wins in Any Language

Before I begin, I'm going to Argentina for the day tomorrow, to Formosa. Be jealous.

Anyway, proofreading, once again, has saved lives, and perhaps the souls of the children at the Christian school here. My project right now is to transfer a bunch of handwritten sheets in notebooks for the kids' English classes onto the computer, making them look pretty, so that from now on, Sis.Bir doesn't have to slave for hours handwriting 150 notebooks, which kids often lose or destroy, and she has to make new ones. They will be printed out and spiral bound, a lot like the textbooks they use for the Bible school here. She'll charge the books in tuition, and the kids who get free tuition because of their poverty or social status will get free books as well. Because I am my techie self, and Sis.Bir has noticed this and happily handed over the reigns to typing and computer designed stuff to me while I'm here, she said something about waiting until Sis.Goodrum returned from deputation to type up these books, and I asked, "Why? I'm almost done with copying these titles. I need a new project." Gleefully, she handed me four notebooks, and hinted that maybe Elias would also like his Guarani notebooks transferred. 

Yesterday, I spent the day formatting homework sheets for first-fourth grades. Pre-escolar and jardin don't have homework, because they're still just learning Spanish themselves . The poor kids already speak two languages as it is and they're four and five years old. What's the point weighing them down with ANOTHER one, which would likely confuse them. So Sis.Bir sticks to colors, numbers, and coloring sheets, and isn't doing a book for them.

Today, I knew I wasn't going to be in the office all day, because Bro.Bir and Pastor Kiti came back from a week long trip to Argentina and we had to go get them at the Omnibus terminal. So, I decided that I would try to get half of the first notebook done. It turned out being much easier than I expected, so even with only five hours in the office today, I have the books finished except for a few worksheets that need scanned in, and any additions that will be made throughout the rest of the school year.

Rewind to one of the last pages I did. A coloring sheet with the words to 'Jesus Loves Me' and a coloring sheet of Jesus with little children. The heading, in Spanish and English, says, "Let's Sing!". Unfortunately, I happened to miss a letter, and as I was looking back through the notebook, admiring my work, thankfully, before I printed anything, I notice a picture of Jesus, looking lovingly at the little children, with an upbeat suggestion for all of the adorable little Paraguayan children at Escuela Nuevas Alturas.

"Let's Sin!!"

Christian school lesson FAIL. Proofreading WIN.

Storytime

Once upon there was an AIM worker with iffy Spanish. One day, this AIM worker went to a party at the church for Dia de la Amistad with the jovenes.  She then went to the kitchen and helped her friends prepare food for the impending party time that was to follow, and the time was drawing nigh for them to partake of empanadas, milanesa, and, perhaps the most foreign dish of all, sandwiches. As she was henceforth cutting the sandwiches into cuartos, a handsome young gentleman appeared before her, and behold, he was muy, muy guapo. But alas, the guy was very quick of speech, and his speech, it was in Spanish. The young AIM  worker was confounded, for her comprehension of the language was restricted to those speaking at a snail like pace, and at that, she would only understand about a third. The man, unaware of this, babbled on extremely fast, and she surprisingly could understand. He asked how long she would be here, if her parents were coming, too, to visit, and when she replied "Nay", he then asked, in very, very, very fast Spanish-

"Extranjas tu mother?" (Do you miss your mother?)

Thinking that the boy was still asking about if her parents were coming to visit, the AIM worker replied, "No."

"Extranjas tu father?"

"No."

At this point, the boy nodded a little, raised his eyebrows, and looked at the AIM worker as though she had the pox.

Alas, the young AIM workers very good friend, who knows to speak to her slowly in Spanish, explained what he was saying, and the young AIM worker laughed hysterically, and attempted to correct her mistake.

Epilogue

The young gentleman most likely thinks that Americans are idiots. Namely, the young AIM worker.