Las Primeras Semanas

Lindsay and I just rounded out our third week here in BA. Now, if you have been keeping up with my Facebook or Instagram, you might be wondering if we have done anything but sightseeing thus far. This was supposed to be a mission trip, right? If you have been pondering these things, let me give you a broad overview of our first few weeks.

I approached this trip with the feeling that I was going in blind. I was given a short summary of what the trip would entail, but it wasn't until a few weeks before I departed that I understood the greater details. This to say that I did not have many expectations of what life would be for us here, or what we would be doing on a daily basis. This trip does not mirror any mission trip I have been on before. I have realized that a longer trip--like this one--has an entirely different feel to it, which I hope to explain as I continue. 

If you have read my post about the bus, then you will have a decent idea of what our first week and a half here looked like. One of our primary objectives while in BA is to be the mediators between the USA missions teams and the churches and communities that they are coming to partner with. That means that Lindsay and I will be their guides in transportation, communication (HA!), and tourist outings. So becoming familiar with the bus and its various routes was very important for us. And to satisfy that followup question: yes, we now have confidence to ride the bus without fear or ignorance. We have gotten much better at asking strangers for directions, and that has hardly failed us... And the subway is a piece of cake; therefore, it is my preferred method of travel, but we don't always get so fortunate. We know how to read maps and understand our bus route guide. This is all due to repeated failure, patience, our skilled teachers, and the mercy of God. 

Alongside our conquest of the transportation system, Lindsay and I have been attending church services, Bible studies, and discipleship groups across the city. Today is our 26th day on the ground, and we have now been to 16 of such gatherings. Each of the three missionary families has a different home church, so there have been many people to meet and connect with during our stay. The churches are all Evangelical Baptist churches, but each differs in size, preaching and worship style, length of service, type of building, and neighborhood. So if you were to ask me what a typical service looked like, I would ask you to be a tad more specific. Most of the churches or groups that we have been exposed to are the places/people with which a USA team will be partnering at some point in the coming weeks. The others are where Lindsay and I have a more specific outreach, such as teaching English, which is another story in itself. 

You don't realize how complex and nonsensical the English language is until you try to teach it. 

"Why do you spell it like that? Why is it pronounced that way?" / /  "Well. Because it just is!" 

The main group of people that we are teaching, knows almost nothing about English. The ABCs are complicated. There are sounds in our language that they never have used before which I think is kind of crazy to think about. Lindsay and I often feel unequipped to give them what they need and how they need it. We aren't teachers, and most of what we teach them in English needs to be explained in Castellano (the language that we still have yet to master). It's a bit of a mess. But, we are learning a lot after each lesson, and we pray that they are, too. Like everything else here--it is a process. 

And then there is the sightseeing. We have been all around this massive city and have hit the majority of the highlights. From parks, to museums, to bookstores, to monuments, to the water and back again. We know what costs money, the days and hours of operation, the distance from the subway stop, and where all the nearby Starbucks are located. I would consider us experts in tourism. :) We have even been able to do a few things with the natives! A handful of young people from the churches have been gracious enough to take us on the town. But not only to do the tourist stuff, but to be a part of their lives. That has been a great blessing. 

So as I said, it's a process. This is my life right now. I was slightly discouraged in the beginning because I felt we weren't given enough to do that produced any growth. We have spent the majority of our time in churches, talking to Christians. But we are going to be here for about seven more weeks. Seven. And I have been reminded that sometimes your job is to lay the groundwork, to form relationships, to build bridges. Our first team arrives this evening from Tennessee (A.K.A. God's country). Things will begin to take form, and the pace will quicken. Everything we have been doing these past few weeks was to prepare us for weeks like these. So pray for us, please. We are excited (and if I'm honest, maybe a bit nervous). Pray that God works through this team to reach the people of this city.

On a heavier note, almost a week ago my grandpa passed away unexpectedly. It was a major blow to the family, and it was difficult to be here and process everything that was going on while 5000+ miles away from home. It was truly amazing how much support my family and I received during that time, not only from family and friends in the States, but from the people I live and interact with here in BA. Right before we left for our summer away, Grandpa had given my brother and I encouragement cards which had the very specific instruction of "Open June 15."  The date didn't hold much significance to him when he wrote it--just seemed like a good day, which shows his sense of humor. He died on June 12, and after three days of anticipation, I opened his letter. It was a sweet note. One thing he wrote that stuck out to me was this: "Now you will get a taste of what that (life) job is like and whether or not you want to continue in that work." The separation from family is one of those things that gives me a taste of what this "life" is like.

A great thing about this trip is that we get to see the everyday lives of established missionaries. At this juncture, I think I have appreciated that the most. As my grandpa hinted, I have contemplated living full time on the mission field for some years now. Of course, every missionary family, location, and experience is unique. But events such as the passing of a loved one shows me that this is not just an amazing adventure, but reality. However, I am grateful for this opportunity, and for the movement of my Father in all of these events. I am anxious to see where He is leading me through this. 

La torre de Babel

"Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built.  And the Lord said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another's speech.” So the Lord dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth. And from there the Lord dispersed them over the face of all the earth. {Genesis 11:1-9}

Allow me to paint a mental picture for you:
There is a young girl, just learning how to read, and she sits down with a stranger to read aloud with her. The young girl's age and reading level would suggest a nice picture book with large font and few words, but what she has in her backpack is to the contrary. Instead of a colorful Eric Carle, out comes a Charles Dickens' novel, [insert title of choice]. The stranger is excited because that is one of her favorites; she has read it through multiple times and has watched a couple of movie adaptations, as well. So they open the book with the intent to take turns--the woman would read page 1, the girl would read page 2, and so on. The woman begins with enthusiasm, soaking in each word of the familiar text. As she turns the page, the girl--eager to delve into the story--starts to read. Almost immediately it is made clear that she is exactly what she had originally appeared to be: a young lass with a low literacy rate. The girl recognizes a good handful of the words on her page, but every few moments she struggles as she approaches a strange jumble of letters. She pauses and tries to connect the sounds to form a coherent word. She isn't sure what exactly the word means or if she pronounced it correctly, but she pushes on to the next speed bump. After several lines of staggering speech, the girl becomes agitated. She wells with frustration because she just doesn't feel suited to the task at hand. The further in the text she reads, the more she is made aware of the stranger's presence. Her embarrassment settles in her cheeks. But the woman has been nothing but patient, helping the girl when she cannot get past a particular word or phrase. It is now the stranger's turn to read again, and she picks up from where the girl left off with an eloquent tongue, yet at a noticeably slower pace than before. She finishes and smiles as it is the girl's turn yet again. Anxious to prove that she can read this novel, despite what her age may lead the stranger to infer about her reading ability, she begins again, but the girl cannot seem to grasp the words in the same way that the woman can. The girl stops mid-sentence, looks at the woman with apologetic eyes, and closes her book.

Now let's imagine how both of these females feel, yes? The young girl probably feels incompetent and foolish for wanting to start with such a book. But the girl had heard so much about the book and the author and the plot--it excited her and she was anxious to experience it all for herself. Come to find out, she is unprepared for such a task. So many words do not register; so many idioms present themselves without providing further explanation. The woman is kind, but she was also growing weary of the girl's efforts. The girl had good intentions, but she was butchering a classic [and favorite of said stranger]. Internally the woman had sighed with relief as the girl closed the book, but she did pity the girl and appreciated her wanting to try. Maybe when the girl grows up a little, they can pick up where they left off--the middle of page 4.

 Ok, I'm sure you see where I am going with this by now.

In terms of my Spanish speaking/understanding ability, I am probably as literate as a second or third grader [which is older/more experienced than the girl in my illustration, but not by much]. Have you ever tried to have an intelligent, fluid conversation with a seven-year-old about say... politics, movies, college courses, etc? You should try sometime and tell me how it goes. That is how I feel when I try to have a conversation with a native Spanish speaker. The words helpless, ignorant, and headache run through my mind. Try watching a random movie in a different language [without English subtitles] without feeling anxious or frustrated at not being able to comprehend anything.

Over the past few months I have been mulling over this whole language-crisis thing. You know what language does? It divides peoples. Cuts communication and therefore limits relationships. But then I realized something: God did not intend for it to be this way. He made us for relationships--relationships with Him and with each other. The multitude of languages that exist today on this planet are the result of {.....wait for it.....} SIN! Crazy right? In the beginning, God had this great idea that people would live in harmony with one another, loving Him and one another. But after Babel*--after the people wanted to become like gods, wanted to elevate themselves above the one God who created them--God did the merciful thing. Instead of smiting all humankind, He allowed it to continue, just more disconnected. People had already detached from their God, so God would detach them from one another. Ever since the fall of man, people have tried to reverse the curse, without success. Jesus did bridge the gap between man and God, but now, Christians have to bridge the gap between themselves and everyone else {Great Commission--Matthew 28:18-20}. But that whole language-difference-as-a-result-of-sin thing muddies that task.

Wanting to learn and put my Spanish knowledge into practice has been THE hardest and most humbling thing that I have ever experienced. In context of my present circumstances, I have come here to BA to build relationships and share about Jesus. But my excitement is shadowed by my inability to speak, to understand, to communicate well. Sometimes it feels utterly defeating. After years of Spanish courses in high school and college, I do not think I should be having as much trouble as I am right now.

I know God has me here for a reason. A verse that motivated me in the beginning to apply for this position was, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." {2 Corinthians 12:9} I knew that I would struggle with the language, but I was following a God that is bigger than language, that created language. So no matter how discouraged I feel, I know He is going to work through my inability to speak for His glory. So as that young girl, I will return to the bench with the Dickens' novel and push through until the words begin to flow and understanding comes naturally, all the while praying that the woman will have unending grace.^


*I personally read the Bible literally. If you do not, just go with it. Thanks.

^This post is not a result of self-pity, so I am not fishing for you to leave a supportive comment. Please just continue to pray that God will use Lindsay and I to reach the people of BA, and that He will teach me as I struggle with the effects of that unfortunate mishap thousands of years ago: Babel.

El Colectivo

This entry is dedicated to my new acquaintance: the bus.
In the Unites States, the quality and commonality of public transportation usually depends on the part of the country in which you live. Urban areas utilize it more than the suburbs and rural areas. This, I am sure, is not news to anyone, but I preface this way to let you know that I am not from a part of the country that utilizes public transportation as its primary mode. Yes, there is a functioning bus system, but more people/families own and drive a car. Here in Buenos Aires--megacity that it is--the bus is the number one form of transportation. There is a subway system, too, but the bus reaches a much broader spectrum of the map. They number from 1-464, and can take you almost anywhere in the city of BA. It's an intricate web, that even an experienced Argentine can find hard to navigate [ok I haven't exactly met anyone who professes to be such, but for the sake of argument, let's just nod and continue.]

So, as I said, I do not come from a big city, and I have never relied on the bus for transportation. Therefore, you must believe me when I say that these past few days have been quite an experience. I have transitioned from driving everywhere to relying 100% on a bus system that I am unfamiliar with. Not only is riding the bus an adjustment, but I also have to communicate where I want to go in Spanish*. Several times within the past few days, I have told the driver the name of the streets I wish to arrive at, and he looks at me with confusion and leans in to hear me repeat my mispronunciation of "Nogoyá." After a few moments of mumbled instructions, he signals me to keep the line moving towards the back of the bus. I get to one of the hand rails and wait for Lindsay to ask what he had been telling me, but she hadn't understood either. After we ride for several blocks, we start to second guess if we are headed in the right direction. We (as in Lindsay--spokeswoman of this duo) ask fellow passengers if they know where Nogoyá is, and thankfully they do. They kindly let us know that it is in the opposite direction. We had hopped the right number bus, but instead of 114A, it should have been 114B. Or we had missed our stop completely by a couple of miles. Or we should have boarded this same bus on opposite side of the street, which would take us south instead of north. You might be curious as to how we could manage to accomplish all of this within a matter of days, but let me assure you, each of those scenarios has occurred--and some more than once.

But we are improving. Really. Today it only took us about an hour and fifteen minutes to get to a location which yesterday had taken us three hours. We learned how to reload our bus/subway card, which had started to empty all the more rapidly the more we paid for routes we hadn't intended to take. We have walked a lot, which is my favorite part of the bus ride--getting off. We have become more willing to ask people for directions, on and off the bus. When lost on the ground, a police officer is always a good go-to. When in doubt, we press the parar button to disembark and jump off as quickly as possible to figure out if we made a wrong turn. Sometimes we just get anxious and jump off without double checking with our guia [our bus route booklet] or a passenger/driver. Thankfully, there has always been a way to walk to where we need to be--whether that's our final destination or another bus stop--and neither of us mind walking. It has been an exhausting past few days, but we have learned so much. The people here are great. Not only is the missionary family^ always on-call if we're lost and need assistance, but they also let us collapse on their living room floor when we finally arrive at their house a few hours past our original ETA. The Argentines that we have interacted with have also been friendly and don't seem to mind that we don't exactly know what we are doing. Many have had more patience with us than I would have deemed kind. The people we meet and have relationships with make riding the bus all the more enjoyable (if that is even an adjective I can attribute to the bus).

Next we master the subway.

 *We have been told several times that Argentine's do not speak Spanish, but Castellano. It is the same thing with a few notable exceptions. Pronunciation is one of them. If you are familiar with the Spanish language, you know that the "y" makes the <ee> sound and "ll" make the <y> sound, but in Castellano, the two are pronounced as "sh" (with a bit of a buzz of the tongue). Also some of the words are different, but that might be more due to the fact that each Latin American country has slightly different vocabulary. Overall it's the same,  but some words change. For example, in most Spanish speaking countries, "strawberry" is "fresa," but here it is called "frutilla." So we are not only brushing up on our Spanish, but also learning the Castellano twist. 

 ^The missionary families here are fabulous. They make this place feel more like home.