They're Yours

Earlier I blogged about Ghost day. I think I failed to really understand it then. Apparently, that was only one day out of a month of celebrating "Our kind brothers" (ghosts). That was the biggest day, where they put out the most food and go indoors early. Now it is the end of "ghost month" and the air is filled with sounds of parading and fire works. There is a big parade of religious people who walk alongside big float like vehicles which look like temples on wheels. Naomi and I went on a bike ride yesterday and ran into the tail end of this parade. There were many, many people out. Mostly men in some sort of temple uniform and there were a lot of old people standing outside their homes waving incense, burning paper money or bowing in worship to these ghosts and to their gods. It was a sobering sight, but that didn't compare with the pain of realization I experienced when I saw my third grade student out there with his mom. MY student. This dark religion, this worship of ghosts isn't just something the old people do because of tradition. It is something they believe and they drag the younger generation into it. It shouldn't happen with my students, but the reality is...this is life without Jesus. I took this picture today through my window. It was placed outside of the car repair shop I live at. It is an offering of fruit to the ghosts. on the left side of the table are stacks of paper money. They burn this money to give to the ghosts. Shortly after taking this picture I saw what was maybe the saddest thing of my life. I saw my dear mama bowing and waving incense and then my dear sweet little Abby bowing in obeisance to WHAT? Demons? ghosts? darkness? God?
"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give them eternal life: and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father which gave them to me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand." John 10:17-19

They're mine

What if you had mean students? And what if you loved them anyways, because they were yours? And what if after every class you went home emotionally exhausted because of how much they took from you? What if you continued to love them and to pour yourself into them even though it hurt? What if they graduated and left you? How would you feel? And what if you found them again? What if you found that they loved you too? What if?

The simple joys of maidenhood

I was afraid of boring people with too many posts so it's been too long since my last one. I have so many things to tell.

1. The single worst thing has happened to me. The principal, who I talked about in my last blog, has volunteered to teach me Chinese. So now once a week I have to sit down with him for a 40 minute Chinese lesson. Last week, I learned "The big tree is our good friend." So far in my conversations with Chinese squirrels it has been incredibly helpful.

2. I went fishing! Naomi and I stayed over at our students house and went fishing with them. We fished in some sort of outlet from the ocean. We stood on a bridge and watched Mr Lin cast a net into the water then we'd pull up a small fish or two and garbage. It was awesome. Mr Lin got the net stuck in the water. I volunteered to go into the water after it, but no one thinks the Americans can do anything =(. So a complete stranger came and stripped to his boxers so he could jump in and save the day. I was jealous. After getting our net back we caught 12 little fish all together. Then we went home and scaled and gutted them. They were very much still alive when we started to scale them. I had to tell myself over and over again "fish don't feel pain. Fish don't feel pain." (don't tell me if this isn't true, I don't want to know). After the fish were gutted (this was my first time gutting fish ) we fried them and salted them. It was seriously one of the best things I've ever tasted. I love fishing!

3. Today one of our students asked the principal if it was "true that all Americans only eat steak?" I wish!!!! =)