So...what now?

I am watching the sun set in the horizon marking the end of another hot August day. I am hardly complaining about the weather though as compared to Philly’s this seems positively balmy. I have been away from Philly for almost a month, though it hardly seems like that. In some ways it feels like the trip never happened, in other ways it feels like it is finally sinking in that I just spent 3 months in the United Sates. As I process my time there I continue to feel the ripple effects in my life. I understand more each day that ministry is not glamorous and that ministry opportunities are as available as opening up my eyes and walking through my bedroom door.

As I see familiar faces again the inevitable question that rises is, "So...what now?" As seems to be the pattern in my life I only have a temporary plan. Originally I was suppose to go back to London, continue working after my three month leave of absence and carry on with the life I had been living in London for the past 4 years. Sometimes things do not always work out the way you expected or counted on, and it is due to those unexpected changes that I am no longer living in London. The job that was supposed to be there when I returned was not, and I moved out of my apartment and did the unexpected. I have moved home. At 24 years of age and after being on my own for over 5 years I am back living in the home that I grew up in with 6 of my 7 siblings. My parents have graciously allowed me to claim my old room and work on finishing up my B.A. in Communications. I have been working part-time on my B.A. for the last few years and now I have the opportunity to finish it up.

As I look towards an uncertain future I am excited by the possibilities that exist. I am learning to live without a 5-year plan, and roll with the punches so to speak. It is a challenging yet invigorating process; tough yet rewarding. For me, it is just another adventure.

The adventure continues.

After a busy week spent with my family and boyfriend running the Vacation Bible School (VBS) program at the church, my time in Philly came to an end. As I spent the weekend celebrating with the VBS children and saying my goodbyes I couldn't help but marvel that an entire three months had flown by. It seemed like just yesterday I was packing up my apartment in London and getting into my little silver Honda to make the 8 hour drive down to Philly. Now just over three months later I was packing up my car at 4:00 am on a Monday morning and heading back to Canada and a new adventure.

It is hard for me to sum up the past three months. I have started writing about it many times, only to find myself staring at a blank sheet of paper with a handful of words on it. I am never quite sure what to tell people when they ask me how it went. Like any ministry experience there were the highs and the lows. There were the days when you were discouraged, homesick and ready to throw in the towel and the moments where something would happen that made everything feel like it was worth it. I had many of those moments throughout the three months. I found that the trip turned out to be more about me and how I needed to change or grow then about changing other people’s lives; and I am okay with that now. I dealt with some very real discouragements, like the programs I started probably will not be continued. I found out that each and every church has their issues, because they are full of sinful people. I also lost a piece of my heart to the children of the inner-city of Philly.

I recently spent a weekend up north with my family at Muskoka Bible Center (MBC). During the evening service the speaker told a story about how when he first became a Christian his church immediately put him in charge of teaching a Sunday school class to children. Being new to church and the Bible he spent countless hours studying and preparing lessons so that he could teach these youth. He never saw any immediate results. Twenty-five years later he and his wife were traveling for a conference in the Middle East. While he was speaking his wife went out sightseeing and happened to visit a school. While there a young woman approached her and asked if she was related to someone by the name of her husband. When his wife confirmed that she had actually married the man this woman told her that she had been in his Sunday school class many years ago and it was his teaching that had so greatly impacted her life. She was now the principal of this school and was using this position as an opportunity to share her faith with the many children she had contact with each day.

As I heard this story tears welled up in my eyes. God is teaching me that you never know what type of impact your life, words or actions may have on others. It is my hope and prayer that the seeds that were planted will bear much fruit.

Lost but not forgotten

The first year my family used our summer vacations to go down to Philly to teach VBS we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We were just a naive middle class family wanting to make a difference, and we had decided to do it in one of the worst areas in Philadelphia. My dad waved and said hi to drug dealers and believed every sob story someone told him when they asked for money. My mom almost had a panic attack the first time we heard gun shots near the church where we taught VBS, and we all made our share of naive tourist blunders. Yet despite all the “culture shock” we lost a piece of our hearts to the children of southwest Philly.

I will never forget meeting Sinnia and Arianna our first year, partly because they were the only Caucasian children that attended the program and partly because of their sad story. Their dad was a drug addict that the church had tried to help multiple times, but he just couldn't kick the habit. Their mom was an overworked anorexic woman who looked like she was coming unglued. Despite their tough upbringing, these girls were the sweetest most respectful children you could ever meet and we fell in love with them, and they with us.

When I arrived in Philly this April I immediately tried to make contact with them as I really wanted to have them attend the weekend programs. Despite the letters I sent and looking for them, I was unable to locate them. They had moved and their contact information was out of date. I was very disappointed that I was unable to find them.

Tuesday evening as we got ready to start our VBS program for the evening, I walked to the front door of the church to make sure all the children were inside their classrooms. As I rounded the corner an excited Sinnia ran across the room calling "Miss Mary" and giving me a huge hug. My eyes immediately welled up with tears as I bent down to wrap my arms around these precious girls. My heart was overflowing with thanks as I went to kick off the evening. It felt so good to finally have the girls back.

One more sleep.

You know that all consuming excited feeling you get before a big trip; or as a kid before Christmas? That is what I am experiencing right now. I thought it would be a great idea to quickly pass time by sleeping like a normal person, but all I can think about is tomorrow when I get to see my family and the boy again. Suddenly sleep has become impossible.

I am excited about this coming week. We have been gearing up for the week-long VBS program, and I am hoping and praying that many kids are able to attend and be impacted by the event. It is going to be a great way to end my time here, but for now I need to become creative in killing time before the gang arrives. World Cup reruns here I come.

Possible conclusion to an awkward moment?

I have never been a parent, but I can imagine from what I have observed that this role comes with great responsibility and pressure. For Andrew's parents that responsibility caused them to feel that finding a good Christian girl to fix their son was part of their parenting duties. This involvement in their son's life led to the awkward moment I wrote about a few weeks ago where Andrew showed up at Bible study on a Thursday night to check out the girl his parents had picked for him. I realized recently that I never provided the conclusion to this story, and so lest you miss out on my exciting life in ministry; here is the rest of that story.

When Andrew walked into Bible Study a few weeks ago, I was quite in shock. I mean for starters it seemed pretty forward to me that parents would bring their son to Bible study for the sole purpose of meeting a girl they themselves had met briefly. I think what shocked me more was that this 24-year-old boy thought it was a great idea to go to Bible study to meet the girl his parents thought would be perfect for him. I’m pretty sure if my parents made a suggestion along those lines to me, I’d run for the hills. I’ve seen my dad’s picks for me in the past; hello Amish farmers with the personality of a shoe string (nothing against the Amish; or my dad’s taste). Then again, maybe this is how things are done in this strange country called America.

After a very brief introduction to Andrew, and Mama Morton telling me I could in no way escape to my room (she was quite enjoying the situation), I proceeded to politely avoid Andrew for the rest of the evening. I breathed a sigh of relief when his family left and figured that was the end of Andrew.

Unfortunately things in life do not always go according to what seems to make sense. Two weeks later Thursday evening Bible study rolls around, and so does...you guessed it...Andrew. Equipped with black sunglasses and a diamond stud in one ear he sauntered through the door. Now maybe I am a little harsh, but to me wearing your sunglasses in someone’s house after the sun has long gone down is...well, weird. I mean, it is dark outside, unless you’ve gone blind in the past two weeks, I am pretty sure you look out of place and the cool vibe you were probably going for is not really working.

As Bible study ended I busied myself with serving the guests until Andrew cornered me and said “I’ve been waiting to talk to you for two weeks” (insert gagging on my part). I said “Oh”, and awkwardly tried to move on and offer some more refreshments to the rest of the attendees. Apparently my subtle clues were too subtle. After a few awkward conversations that were interrupted many times by the different people there, he managed to give me his number before he left. While I was putting dishes in the dishwasher he said, and I quote “Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything to earn dinner with me.” I wasn’t really sure how to take that...and I wasn’t about to ask for an explanation.

As soon as everyone had left I sent him a text message to say that I wanted him to know that I had a boyfriend and I wasn’t looking for anything. He texted me back to say “Don’t worry doll, I think you’re really nice and I would love to hang out with you either way.” I’m pretty sure that means he doesn’t care that I have a boyfriend, but I never bothered to find out. Other than a few random text messages since that night, I have yet to see or hear from Andrew, and I’m definitely not complaining.

6 more sleeps...

This past weekend I taught my last Saturday class, and I was the world's best teacher because I brought cupcakes. As I packed away some of my regular curriculum last night it started to hit me that my three months here are coming to an end. I cannot believe how quickly time flies. In six more sleeps my family and boyfriend will arrive to help me pull off a week of VBS with the children, and then two days after they leave I will be pulling out of my Philly driveway and heading back to Canada.

This trip has been nothing that I imagined it would be; both in the good and disappointing ways that it has unfolded. I am excited about the next adventure that waits around the corner, as well as spending next week with my family and boy. Life is good.

Real life disappointments...

During my short visit to Ontario a couple of weeks ago I was asked a particular question multiple times; "So are things in Philly going as good as you say in your writing?" As I thought about my answer to that question, I realized that there are really two parts to it. On the one hand things are going as well as I say. The kids have stolen a piece of my heart, and my favourite part of the week is getting to spend time with them and interact with them (even if they do make me exhausted). The church has been extremely welcoming to me during my time here. I have been inspired by their enthusiasm and grace.

Yet, as with any ministry experience there are disappointments. When I first was talking with Mama Morton about the possibility of moving down here, one of my requests was that this would be more than just a 3 month program where I give up my time and come here to pour into the children's lives. I wanted assurance that the program would continue after I left. The Morton's felt that this would not be an issue, and that I would be starting something that they were planning on continuing to run. After being here for almost three months, I have had to face the fact that this is probably not going to happen. That this project that I have devoted my time to will probably end the moment I leave. This has been a very real disappointment for me, and has in some ways deflated the wind from my sails.

This concern was only highlighted when I was in Ontario; the children's program on Saturday was cancelled due to the holiday; however, I was told that they would have someone to teach the Sunday school class Sunday morning. When I returned I was informed that they were unable to find someone to do that, which just reinforced that it is unlikely that any of the programs I have started will continue.

I say all this to be honest about my struggles here. Sometimes I feel that I have been put on a pedestal because I made a decision to give up three months of my life and give to others. I have realized that you can do a lot of good things with your life, but have the wrong motives thus missing the point entirely. My purpose for this trip was to make a difference in people's lives. God's purpose for this trip I think was to make changes in my own life. This entire process has been God continually pointing out things in my life that need to be changed; attitudes, thoughts, and actions.

So as much as I have been discouraged recently with the fact that what I am doing here may never be continued, I have to remind myself that God is so much bigger then what I can see. I have no idea what seeds have been planted, or what His plan is. I just know that this experience has humbled me into realizing how inadequate and self-centered I really am; and I hope I don't forget that lesson any time soon.

The NYC experience that is Canal Street.

"Gucci, Prada, Vuitton". The moment you come across small women mumbling these words under their breath like some sort of mantra (or a crazy person), you know you've reached the right place. This is Canal Street, and although you probably won't find this place listed in many New York City tourist books, it is a vital part of a true NYC experience.

It all starts the minute you emerge from the underground subway; you are greeted by absolute mayhem. Hundreds of people fill the streets, little shops the size of closets line each side, and vendors with large suitcases and duffel bags sit on the sidewalk. This is the place where knock-off items such as purses, sunglasses, jewellery and the likes are sold. Along with any NYC souvenir you could possibly want.

I love bartering with the shop keepers for the best price on the items I am purchasing, even though I know they are probably robbing me blind. I love the excitement and throb of the crowd and following little ladies through back allies and streets so they can show me what they have to sell. It probably sounds pretty sketchy, but if you ever visit NYC, you need to make a stop on Canal Street. I think you will get hooked. Just make sure you barter, it’s all part of the experience.

You can't make this up...

My favourite shot from Ellis Island

We arrived in New York City Monday, and it has been a whirlwind of firsts and adventures since our feet touched the train platform in New York Penn Station. I don’t think it has really sunk in yet that I am sitting in a condo in Manhattan and seeing all the sites that have only been in movies up until this point. It is quite an experience to say the least, and I am thoroughly enjoying it.

Tuesday was a whirlwind of subways, ferries and sights that included the Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Canal Street (whoot whoot for knock off items and “secret” back rooms), the outskirts of Little Italy, ground zero, and then the Staten Island ferry to see the skyline at night. Not bad for one day.

Tomorrow is the MET and Central Park. I love every minute of being here, and our condo is fantastic, and really close to all the major attractions.

Andrea and I on the ferry to the Statue of Liberty

The city that never sleeps...why hello New York.

One of the awesome things about Philly is that it is very central to some amazing places, such as the New Jersey Shore, Washington, DC, and of course the famous New York City. One of my best friends from London is flying down to Philly and we are going to head out to New York City on Monday for five days. As you can imagine, I am totally excited and cannot wait. I am sure it will be a week jam packed with adventure and excitement.

Completely sold out.

I sometimes wonder what it looks like to be completely sold out for God. A few years ago I was sent an article about two men who decided to leave everything they loved and had and be sold into modern day slavery so that they could bring Jesus to those who were slaves. What struck me was that it wasn't a one year experience, there was no 911, or back-up plan if they decided to change their mind. They were putting their lives at risk, they were willingly taking on hardship and suffering, and they were doing it for the rest of their earthly lives. This type of commitment and dedication to what they believe in blows my mind.

I mean, I think it’s a rough day if the weather is over 80, the air conditioner won’t work, and I have multiple discipline issues in my class. I thought it was a rough day when I decided to give up diet Pepsi for the 40 days of lent, when my trainer told me to do 20 minutes of sprints after a really tough workout, or when I had to wait 15 minutes in line at the grocery store. I can’t even begin to imagine willingly becoming a slave so that I could use my life and words as a witness to those who are forced into the same situation.

I think these men are a good example of what sold out for God can look like. I think that I have let society sell me it’s version of sold out, which frankly is not denying myself or taking up my cross, but rather complaining and grumbling through any “hardship” or “calamity” that comes my way. Which leads me to the question; am I really ready to be sold out for God?

I'm from Canada eh!

Since living here in Philly I have come across some amusing differences between how things are said in Canada compared to the U.S., and I thought I would share some of them with you.

In Philly running shoes are called sneakers, but there is a further qualifier. Unlike in Canada where running shoes covers all kinds of shoes that can be used for sports, walking, etc, here in Philly you would say sneakers for walking, or sneakers for running, or sneakers for yoga. It amuses them that I would say running shoes for all types of different shoes instead of saying runners for walking or runners for running.

Another difference here is that they call subs hoagies. So if you are ever here and want a sub, be sure to say a hoagie otherwise you’ll be the cause of some snickering or confused looks.

Some of the famous differences; pop is called soda, grocery stores are called supermarkets, and you take out the trash here instead of the garbage.

And one of the really different slang words I have come across: a slam is what a gun is referred to as in the “hood”.

I am sure this list will grow before my time is up here. For now I provide amusement to the American’s with my Canadian accent and funny way of saying things.

The real story.

The air conditioning unit shuddered and groaned like an old women trying to climb a flight of stairs. I walked across the room towards the window while mentally trying to will it into producing some cool air. I could feel sweat trickling down my back in a steady line as I leaned over and hit the side of the unit. It was 88 degrees out, but the worst part was the 79% humidity that filled the air leaving everything in its path soggy. I questioned why I had even bothered to shower this morning before heading into the city to teach the kids.

As I turned to face the classroom, Cyrus told me that it was too cold in the room and he wanted a sweater. I groaned and tried to push back the hair that was sticking to my forehead. If this was cold, there was no way I was going to survive the summer.

After the previous lesson focusing on the introduction to the 10 commandments, we spent the class taking a closer look at the first and second commandments. I was excited about this unit as I had some fabulous curriculum from my church back home, and I wouldn't have to write the entire thing like I did for my last unit on Creation. I was on my own this week with 13 children, which went better than expected all things considered. I had a few discipline issues, but that has become a norm. Any time you put 13 children ranging from kindergarten to grade 6 in a class there are bound to be some issues that crop up.

To be honest, I was rather disappointed with the children's response to the lesson. Half of them felt the movie was dumb, and the other half wavered between actually wanting to watch it and wanting to be cool like the kids who thought it wasn't worth their time. Craft time turned into a free-for-all as supplies were scattered all over the room. I am quickly learning that a respect for other people's property and stuff is not something that is taught to most of these children, which often leaves me very frustrated as I spend a lot of time putting together the lessons and coming up with ideas that will engage the children.

As I spent 20 minutes after the kids had left on my hands and knees picking up the scattered supplies and grumbling to myself about not being appreciated I realized that I hadn't really spent a lot of time praying about the class this week. In fact, I spent more time relying on the good curriculum and preparing the lesson then bringing each of these children forward in prayer. It seemed pretty ridiculous of me to expect that the lesson I brought forward would touch and change these children's attitudes and lives when my own was rather self-serving.

I had a lot to think about as I drove home, including a prayer for cooler weather.

The craziness called May.

Logan and I sharing Auntie and Nephew time.

I am back in Philly after a crazy past two weeks that involved a last minute decision to travel to Ontario, meeting my new nephew Logan, the engagement of my brother to his girlfriend, the anniversary of meeting my boyfriend, Justin, 3 years ago, and topped off with my first trip ever to the Jersey Shore. As you can see, it has been quite an exciting few weeks to say the least. There are so many stories that I need to write down, but right now my bed is covered with laundry to be done, bags to unpack, and lessons to write. So for now, I will leave a few pictures of the past few weeks.


The ring that Caleb designed himself and used Canadian diamonds to make.


Justin and Judah taking a break at the playground.


Watching the boat go by at the Jersey Shore.

Please keep your dead skin off me.

It was a perfect Friday evening, and I was enjoying the gentle breeze that was starting to cool off what had been for me, a native to Philly, a blistering hot day. The sun was shining as we started our slow drive down into the city. You see, my aunt and uncle had decided that my Philly experience would not be complete without a Phillies baseball game. Now, unlike our sad Toronto Blue Jays team, people in Philly are completely passionate about the Phillies. This passion for their team and baseball results in almost every game being completely sold out, including pre-season games. We are talking over 42,000 fans come out to Citizens Bank Park to root on their team. There are no $1.00 tickets and free hot dogs here, it is serious business.

To avoid a heart attack induced by stadium food, we stopped for supper at a fantastic Mediterranean place in South Philly before heading over to the game. I need to tell you that Citizens Bank Park is incredible; not only is it beautifully laid out, and very new, but they also have real grass on their field that is perfectly maintained.

Amidst a sea of red shirts and crazy Phillies fans we made our way to our seats only to find out that we were 25 rows from home plate and directly across from the jumbo screen. Just to give you an idea of how good these seats actually were, the pitcher's brother, wife, and baby, along with a chick who had been on survivor 3 times and is now dating another one of the pitchers were all sitting across the aisle from us.

We settled in for what turned out to be a fantastic game. The Phillies were beating the Boston Red Sox, the seats were amazing, and the weather was great; it was a perfect night. That was until, our new seat mate arrived. We were a couple of innings into the game before Ron appeared. I don’t know his real name, but Ron seems to fit. We were in the midst of enthusiastically cheering for our team when a shadow loomed over us. We looked up to see Ron standing there; all 400 + pounds of him. I think at that moment Erin was wishing she had picked a different ticket number and hadn’t ended up in the seat at the end. Ron lumbered past us with his coke bottle and hand-held radio before he plopped down next to Erin almost suffocating her. After her polite requests to remove his coat from across her seat, she adjusted her seating pattern to include an upper body twist and lean as far as possible over my way so as not to be smothered by Ron.

Completely oblivious to the obvious discomfort he was causing, Ron sprawled himself out over the two seats on either side of him, and started to personally coach the team by using signals and hand gestures, along with yelling of course. Now, I’m not the most brilliant person who ever lived, but I am pretty sure that the team (even though they were 25 rows away) couldn’t hear his instructions on when to run, when to stay, how to hit, and when to steal a base. Then again, maybe I am just naive and they were depending on Ron’s coaching to win the game. Whatever the case, he felt it was completely appropriate to yell these instructions loudly while holding his radio up to his ear.

Now I get that the whole baseball experience includes the entertainment of various fans. I understand that people are passionate and enjoy being armchair players, but I do think there should be some consideration for the people next to you, especially when you are 400 + pounds. I know you aren’t going to fit nicely in your seat, but there is a difference between trying to make yourself as small as possible, and just sprawling all over like you own the place. Or maybe I’m too Canadian.

Well I was ready to chalk it up to an unfortunate addition to our seating plan, and continued enjoying the game. That was until in the last 15 minutes of the game I heard a small gasp from Erin. As I turned towards Erin I noticed that we seemed to be caught in a sudden snow storm that was descending on our section of the stadium. Puzzled, I looked closer only to see that Ron had decided that scratching his arm like a maniac for a solid minute would be the most socially friendly thing he could do in a crowded stadium. It wasn’t snow; it was Ron’s dead skin floating through the air and landing all over Erin, and partly on me. I am not even joking. It was all over the seats in front of us, and all up the side of Erin and partly on me.

Even as I write that, I think I threw up in my mouth. Disgusting is the understatement of the century.

Despite our less than desirable company, I enjoyed the game and my first Phillies experience. Hopefully any future games will exclude Ron from being our seat mate.

A cold and rainy Tuesday...

Today is the perfect day to curl up under a blanket and read a good book. After the high heat and humidity that I have experienced here so far, I am not complaining. There are few things worse, in my opinion, then the constant feeling of being soggy. Although it is the perfect day for book reading, and napping, I am doing neither of those things. Instead I am trying to deal with my ridiculous old gym membership from London (Words of advice: never join Premier Fitness), accomplish some school work, and work on the new curriculum that I am starting this week on the Ten Commandments.

This past weekend I wrapped up our study on the days of creation. We had a fun class of celebrating what had been created with blue jello with candy fish, fruit with whip cream, making small chicks that pin on one's jacket, and playing some games. It was a great success, and the kids were pretty excited by it. On Sunday I taught the kids about Jesus miracle of feeding the five thousand. They thought it was pretty cool.

I am catching my breath a bit today after a bit of a whirlwind these past few days. Between the excitement of becoming an aunt and meeting Logan through photos, two girls from my church in London coming to visit from Thursday - Monday, and a busy weekend teaching at the church, I was kept occupied. Last night I spent the evening with some of my coolest family members (my Aunt Diana and Uncle Larry), who happen to live about 10 minutes from where I am staying. We had a great supper and some good chats until well into the evening. It’s nice having family so close, especially the kind of family that you actually want to spend time with. :)

I am an aunt.

My phone rang at 6:28 am on Friday morning. It was my sister letting me know that just a few hours earlier she had given birth to my new nephew: Logan Levi. He made his grand entrance into the world weighing 8 pounds and 6 ounces. My sister, being secretly a super hero, had this little bundle of joy at home. Although she jokingly claimed on the phone to me that this is her last child, she was a total trooper and made the entire process look almost easy.

Of course I am totally thrilled to be an aunt for the first time. Being in Philly, and what seems like a million miles away, is making me people-sick (my version of homesick). It is incredible to me that my little sister, who I grew up trying to protect from the world, is now a mother. I’ll admit there were tears in my eyes when I saw the first pictures. I know she is going to be an amazing mother to little Logan, but to me she is still the little sister that I tried to keep the boys away from (Steve is lucky I had moved out by the time he came around :).

I can’t wait to meet Logan. Of course I’ll be his favourite aunt :).

Funny moment brought to you by Faith...

I have mentioned Faith in previous posts. She is the little 5-year-old girl that keeps me well supplied with hugs and encouragement. Last week in Saturday’s class she became upset and started crying. When I asked her what was wrong she told me, "Miss Mary, you are ignoring me today." I tried to explain that I wasn't ignoring her but was trying to teach the class. If you haven't figured out already, Faith likes to be the center of attention.

After the class with the kids on Sunday, I wanted to make sure she still felt important so Faith and I sat in the classroom and had some "girl talks." At one point in the conversation she turned to me and said, "Miss Mary, are you married?" When I told her I wasn't she asked, "Well are you trying to get married?" When I told her I had a boyfriend back home named Justin, she asked me if I was dating Justin Bieber, the child wanna-be-singer that all the little girls are swooning over. Although I told her I wasn't, she still thinks I am dating a 16-year-old "singer" from Canada.

Over five weeks later...

As I sit here on the back deck enjoying a cool breeze, I cannot believe that I have already been in Philly for five weeks. Time is flying by. I have survived yet another busy weekend, and I am starting to sense some sort of alternating pattern. It seems that when a Saturday class with the kid's goes well, then the Sunday class with the kids will involve more discipline than teaching, or vice versa. I suppose this is God's way of keeping me humble. This past weekend went relatively well, despite starting 40 minutes late on Saturday (I don't know why this surprises me anymore), trying to juggle 12 children all trying to use one hot glue gun at once and succeeding in gluing everything except for their mother's day craft, and trying to keep the girl's from beating up the boys during the very competitive review game on the days of creation.

We have wrapped up the seven days of creation, and I am planning on focusing this next week on review of the unit before we move on to the Ten Commandments. Sometimes it amazes me that I am down here in Philly teaching children. I was never one of those children who while growing up people said should be a teacher. I'm not particularly crafty at all; I'd probably do a better job running drills in the army then cuddling children and wiping away their tears, and if a child (or anyone for that matter) vomits, needs help going to the bathroom, or any other gross bodily function. I can be found vomiting right beside them.

Yet, despite all this I find myself pouring over crafts on the internet, learning to discipline and teach at the same time, finding creative ways to engage the children in the lesson, and pouring over parenting advice on how to deal with difficult children, learning disabilities, and the list goes on.

This entire experience in Philly has given me a new-found respect for those who dedicate their lives to teaching and being a mother. After just three hours on a Saturday afternoon with approximately 9-15 children, I am ready to go straight home and take a nap. It amazes me that people can teach 30 children at once all day, and then get up the next morning and do it all again, or parent multiple children day in and day out. My hat goes off to them.

In which mama tries to make me girly.

Mama decided to treat me to my first facial this week. I know I know the life of ministry is so tough :)

Now, I grew up as a tomboy, refused to wear the colours pink and purple, arm wrestled and beat 9 of the 10 boys in youth group at 13, and when I try to wear big-girl make-up it ends up generally looking like I am trying out to be a clown at the local circus. All that to say; I am not really used to these spa type treatments.

So I arrived at the salon with Mama, who was giddy with excitement over the experience (she is much more of a lady then I am). The massage therapist got me ready in the room, and then turned on some nice ocean music. Now I suppose the sound of the ocean should make you relax. It just makes me have to go pee. After an hour of listening to the waves hit the shore, I thought I was going to have an accident.

I'm not really sure if others do this, but the entire time the massage therapist was spreading mixtures that smelt like paint thinner on to my face, I kept wondering what she was thinking. I mean, is she making comments about me in her head, is she sleeping (hence the paint thinner instead of lotion), or is she counting down the minutes because she is so sick of touching people's faces. I always wonder. There is also the awkwardness of not knowing whether you should talk to the person, or just close your eyes and pretend to sleep. After about five minutes of trying to have a conversation with her, I took the "pretend I'm sleeping" route.

The facial was quite nice, other than the toxic smells of the ointment. When I came out from having my facial and my hair cut, Mama almost started crying as she said, "Oh my, you look so beautiful." I think she was trying to say I should actually do my hair more than once a week...but then again, I'm not really sure. I hope she's not disappointed that my hair is up in a pony tail today. I think this is where the comment "Can't teach an old dog new tricks" goes.

Oh dear...what did I get myself into.

I went to my first step aerobics class tonight. For those of you who have been to one, or tried to follow a Richard Simmons workout on TV, I can hear you laughing already. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

When I first arrived the room had about 70 women in perfectly coordinated workout outfits, hair nicely done and toned bodies. I immediately regretted the six miniature Kit Kat chocolate bars I had eaten on the way to the class. I thought to myself, either this class really works, or this is a class for models. I decided to position myself at the back, and as far away from the mirrors as possible; just to be safe. As the class started, the instructor walked in, perfectly tanned, perfectly toned, and ready for action.

5 minutes into the class I am drenched in sweat, my hair is plastered to my head, my blue NYC t-shirt is soggy, and my shoes that don't match my “outfit” are pinching my feet. The fun had just begun.

All around me perfectly sculpted women are bopping around, up and down and all over the place; all while barely breaking a sweat. There I am, sounding like a train-wreck coming through town as I thunder up, down and all around my step. When the class went right, I went left, when they were up, I was down. There was no disguising that I was new to the class. Not to mention, my sweat was in the process of creating the Mississippi River. All this while I huffed and puffed like the wolf trying to blow down the brick home of the third little piggy.

I managed to finish the hour long class. I think finish might be too strong of a word. More like I managed to stagger through the last 45 minutes of the class only to collapse on the ground wishing I had enough strength to grab my water bottle. And that my friends, was my introduction to modern torture; also known as step aerobics.

The Art of Slowing Down

I am learning a lot of things about life and myself here in Philly. One of the big things is to slow down and enjoy the little moments in life. This is a lot harder than it sounds. The Morton’s are some of the busiest people that I know, yet they have this way of not letting time rule their lives. For instance, after finishing a meal we will sit and talk about whatever is going on during the day, our thoughts on different subjects, etc. In my head I want to get up, do the dishes, and keep my day moving.

The same thing happens when we visit people, like Miss Betty Lou-Who. If it were me running the schedule I would slot a certain amount of time to visit Miss Betty and then move on with my day. However, when we go to visit Miss Betty, there is no time limit. If we get there and she needs to go to the pharmacy, we will take her. The visit could be 30 minutes, or it could be an 8 hour shoe shopping trip. It all depends on what the needs are.

I find this type of mentality fascinating, and maddening at the same time. I am the type of person that thrives on schedules. I try to fit the most amounts of things that I can into the smallest amount of time possible. I think through doing this I have missed a valuable point that the Morton’s have learned. When we visit Miss Betty without a time limit on our stay, we are truly being open to ministering to her. When we sit after a meal and talk for 20 minutes about various topics, we are learning to enjoy each other’s company and not rushing through the opportunity.

The crazy thing about it all is that the dishes still get done. We still pack more into a day then I would have ever thought possible without a strict schedule, and along the way we have an opportunity to truly enjoy each moment instead of trying to rush and cram a few extra things into our day. I call it the Art of Slowing Down. The Morton’s seemed to have mastered it, I am slowly learning to let go of time constraints and the frustration of not having a tight schedule.

The day we killed and ate Sam.

I found out after his brutal murder that you shouldn't name things that you are going to kill. I was so naive when I set-out with the brilliant idea to bring a lobster to class. I thought it would be a great way of driving the lesson home, and it was. I just didn't realize the killing part would be so...awful. I came home Saturday from teaching the children, and placed Sam (the lobster) in the fridge. I guess I was hoping that eventually he would die and I could just throw him out. But Monday morning Mama insisted that we cook him, as she pulled out the giant pan of water. It was then I knew Sam had to go, and I couldn't avoid it any longer.

I pulled him out of the fridge where he was still trying to feebly escape from the plastic bag. I told him I was sorry, but it was time for him to go. He looked at me with his big black eyes, and I think I saw a tear escape. I told him it was his destiny.

Then the pot took forever to boil, and I started to worry about the emotional trauma I was causing Sam as he waited, knowing the end was near. Finally we were ready, and Mama grabbed him and put him in the boiling pot of water. We were a little worried that we would have a Julie & Julia moment, so I stacked the heavy kettle on top of the pot in hopes of keeping him from escaping. We sang to him as he slowly died.

18 minutes later, a now bright orange Sam bobbed along the top of the pan. I must admit, I was a little worried he would suddenly come back to life. He did not. We hacked him to pieces, pulled out all the meat we could get...and ate him.

Moral of the story: I am not cut out to be a serial killer.

I am so sorry Sam.

His crying started before I had even reached the end of our street. I resolved to steel myself against his tears, knowing that what I was doing was the best choice, and wishing he was old enough to understand my reasoning. I turned up the music in hopes of lulling him out of his distressed state. Despite the soothing strains pumping through the stereo and me trying to assure him in my best reasoning voice, his cries and pleas to turn around and go home continued. It was in that moment, as tears prickled behind my eyelids, I wondered if I was really cut out for this whole concept of parenting. By the time we had reached the freeway, Sam and I were both crying and the music was only becoming the soundtrack to our sad exchange.

You see, Sam was the lobster I had just picked up from the supermarket and was transporting to my class today. Although I might be exaggerating on the crying, I did try to soothe Sam with some music on my way to the church as I told him that his life had a great purpose. He wasn’t just going to be eaten, instead he was going to be a project lesson to the kids about what God created on the fifth day, and then he was going to be boiled and eaten. Somehow this did not seem to comfort him, and although I can’t be positive, I am pretty sure I heard cries for help while I was driving into the city.

Despite feeling rather guilty that I had hauled a lobster out of his lobster tank and away from all his friends, I was pretty excited to be bringing a live lobster to class today, and couldn’t wait to see the kid’s reactions. It was day five of creation, and on that day God created birds, fish and all that lived in the sea. So Sam was going to help drive the point home and hopefully make the lesson stick in their heads. As I sang to Sam on the drive down (that could explain his cries for help) I couldn’t help but look forward to the day ahead.

I think God wanted to give me a reality check this week after last week’s great success. Instead of starting only 10 minutes late, we started over an hour late today. Liberian timing was in full swing. The children arrived wired and ready to go after sitting in the van for an extended period of time while picking everyone up. Due to the time, I had to start the lesson right away. Things started off well, and Sam was a big hit. Thankfully he was still alive and kicking, which provided much entertainment as the children examined him. Point made. Thinking that the children would have pity on Sam, I asked them to put him in the fridge and we could move on. They instead wanted me to kill him and cook him right there so they could eat him. I told them they were heartless; but no mercy for poor Sam. Thankfully I didn’t have the supplies to actually pull this off. I’ve never cooked a lobster before, and I can only picture a Julie & Julia moment if I try.

About halfway through the lesson, things started to unravel a little. Nine children bouncing off the walls, myself trying to teach as well as discipline, and you get the picture. I think my lesson would have ended on a rather frustrated note if it weren’t for little Faith (pictured with me above) who wrote on the board that I was the best teacher in the world and that she loved me. Her constant hugs and praise ended my day on a happy note.

I came home and put Sam in the fridge, where he awaits my first attempt at cooking a lobster. May he rest in peace knowing that his life had a greater purpose then just to be eaten.

In which Miss Betty Lou-Who tries to culture me...

Last week in Bible study I made a commitment that I would try to serve others past the point of comfort. Little did I realize that this commitment would be put into action during a shopping trip with Miss Betty Lou-Who.

It all started innocently enough. Miss Betty needed to make a trip to the mall to buy some new shoes. It seemed simple enough. Miss Betty knew what type of shoes she wanted, the name brand, and style. Eight hours later; however, I staggered into my room and fell onto the bed; I had just “survived” what might be the world’s most memorable shopping trip.

On the way to the shopping mall Miss Betty seemed to be her typical self. She commented on how this would be her last trip to the mall ever because she was sure to die shortly. She noted to the car mirror as well as myself that her bones were deteriorating under her skin and she was sure this was causing her new wrinkles (keep in mind she is turning 89 next month). On the way we had to stop and ask for some directions. This wonderful lady spent 10 minutes giving us perfect directions to the mall. While we were driving away Miss Betty said loudly “I am so glad I am not married to a girl like that, she was way too wordy.” I sincerely hope that the kind lady didn’t hear this comment through the open windows.

Something that I did not mention in my first post about Miss Betty is that she has very expensive taste. Her husband owned an insurance company when he was alive, and provided quite well for her. The first time I met her she was wearing Coach shoes, carrying a Coach purse, and claiming that she cannot wear anything that is not a designer name-brand. Now, I occasionally shop for clothes at Wal-Mart, I rarely pay full price for an item, and I find it completely ridiculous to break the bank over a new pair of shoes. As you can see Miss Betty and I are on completely different pages when it comes to shopping. I take a much more male approach when I shop. I go to the store for a specific purpose, if I don’t find what I want in the first half an hour, I leave and decide I either don’t need the item, or I will try tackle it another day. Eight hours with Miss Betty taught me that shopping is an art form to some people.

We pulled up to Neiman Marcus, a name I had never heard before, but would soon become very familiar with. The valet parking men greeted Miss Betty by name and with a kiss on the check. That should have been my first clue that I should have run for the hills. We walked into the store only to be greeted by the top name brands, Gucci, Prada, Michael Kors, and the list goes on. There was also the opportunity to use a personal shopper should you wish to have some assistance in what were the latest must haves. I spent the next few hours patiently walking behind Miss Betty as she was greeted by each of the sales people by name and then as she examined the clothing, tried on a $300.00 Burberry blouse, a $500.00 denim jacket, considered a plain t-shirt by DKNY that was only $125.00 (what a steal). We ended up in the shoe department where Miss Betty decided that the $400.00 pair of Fendi ballet slippers was just what she needed.

The entire experience was topped off with us sitting in the restaurant at Neiman Marcus sipping a specialty broth in tea cups the size of my thumb, and eating pop-overs with strawberry butter. By the time I left, the valet boys knew my name that I was from Canada, and how long I was going to be in the U.S. I even received a kiss on the cheek from one of the boys as he waved us off.

After the entire experience I have decided I’m still happy with my Wal-Mart brand clothing, and $7.00 sale shoes and I will be praying that another shopping trip is not in the near future. I’m afraid this girl can’t handle all the culture!

Awkward Moment

It might come as no surprise to you that living at a pastor’s house involves attending a weekly Bible study. Living with the Morton’s; however, has added 3 Bible studies a week into my life. Mama Morton says she can already see a holy glow around me. She of course is joking, but it is the most Bible studies I have attended at once in my life. Tuesday mornings Mama and I go to a ladies Bible study (it makes me miss the wonderful group of Tuesday night ladies in London – it’s just not the same here), Wednesday nights is the Bible study at the church in the inner-city, and Thursday nights Mama has opened her house for a neighbourhood Bible study.

My first Thursday night here I attended the Bible study here at the Morton’s home. Being the new strange girl from Canada I had many conversations with the individuals attended, and was also on the receiving end of some typical Canadian stereotypes. For instance, one of the men at the study said to me, in all seriousness, “I can’t believe you are from Canada, you don’t even have a French accent.” I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. There was also the assumption that I knew every little town that possibly existed in Canada, and that my entire family must play ice hockey (which they do – so I guess some stereotypes are correct). I also had a lot of conversations about the Olympics, which seemed to have put Canada on the map for most Americans. Perhaps that is why I didn’t receive the “Do you live in an igloo” question.

During the prayer request time this couple from Kenya mentioned that their son had died in a gun accident 6 years ago, and that they had just celebrated the anniversary of his death. They also mentioned that their younger son had a particularly rough time with his brother’s death, and that they were hoping to find a nice Christian girl to “fix” him basically. I am sure you can just imagine where this is going. Later as I was having a conversation with them about their son’s death, my age somehow became the subject of conversation. I paid no attention to it, and moved on to talk to someone else.

Last week, Thursday nights rolls around, and guess who walks into the house with his parents; this couple’s 24-year-old son. As the door opened, I looked at Mama and said “You have got to be kidding me; I think they brought their son.” She was just as shocked as I was, but forbid me to skip out of Bible study. Can we say awkward? For some reason down here, parents seem to think that because I moved to Philly for three months to teach little children, I must be a saint, as well as the perfect person to fix their problem sons. They really have no idea. Just another day in the Philly adventure. Mama said she is going to make an announcement at church that I am off the market.

Reflections

I wouldn't consider myself a world traveller, or even someone who has moved frequently, but ever since I moved out of my parent's place at 19 years old, I have stopped being homesick. After living in Alberta for a year, living in London for three years, and now living in Philly for three months, I don't really feel that there is one specific place that I think of as home in my head. I do get people-sick; however. To me being with certain people that mean a lot to me is like being home. Those people provide that sense of normality or comfort that most people might associate with the title home. So instead of being homesick when I am in a new place, I am people-sick.

I say all this because I am starting to get into a routine here. The excitement and craziness of getting down here, and then starting my adventure in Philly has started to die down and I am now finding my rhythm. I am the type of person that thrives on having a schedule, or an idea of what I am going to be doing in the next couple of days. At the same time, I have had a few people-sick moments as I have had some time to catch my breath.

As I sit here this evening after a long and somewhat crazy day, I feel reflective. Here are some of the things I am learning about life right now.

1. If you enter ministry thinking that it is going to be glamorous or a way for you to feel good about yourself – pick a different profession.

2. You can do a lot of good things for other people, completely sacrifice your life and time – and yet have wrong motives. Thus missing the point entirely.

3. I am learning to slow down and enjoy the little moments in life, and it is a lot harder than it sounds.

4. Compared to some of the lives that the people at the church live, my life looks pretty amazing. I have absolutely nothing to complain about.

Something that made my day...

My brother Caleb, his girlfriend (the hotter and better half), Calvin, Abbey, Nick, and Levi made this video for me. At a surprise birthday/goodbye party my last weekend in Ontario they showed this video; and of course it made my day.

I showed it to Mama Morton and Pastor today and they thought it was absolutely hilarious. Mama immediately sent it off to a bunch of people from the church and pastor jokingly said that after the service on Sunday they should show this video to the church because he knows that they will think it is awesome. There is never a dull moment here.

I did it...!!!

For anyone who has driven in Philadelphia, you will probably agree that it is not the easiest experience. Between the tollbooths, multitude of crisscrossing roads, and the heavy traffic it’s not exactly a country lane drive. When my family comes down here to teach VBS we get lost driving to the church pretty much every day. So Saturday when I drove to the church on my own, and home without getting lost I considered it a big accomplishment in my young life :)

I had 9 children in my class on Saturday, and thankfully the help of Mary-Anne, a wonderful woman from the church. She kept the children in line while I taught the lesson, which was absolutely fabulous. Trying to do both on my own last week provided some juggling to say the least. The children enthusiastically greeted me when they arrived, and I received a few hugs as well. I was encouraged when doing the review to find out that the kids had retained most of what I had taught them the previous week, and about one-third of the class learned their memory work and were able to recite it to me without any help. We were also more efficient in the timing aspect this week. I started class at 11:15 and ended just after 1:30. Success!

The highlight of the class came when I asked the children during introduction time what they wanted to be when they grew up. One of the little boys (Meh) that had just come from Liberia that I mentioned last week stood up when it was his turn and said, I want to be just like Miss Mary when I grow up. These kids are melting my heart already, and it has only been two weeks.

When I got home I walked into the door only to see Mama making a gun to her head gesture while talking on the phone. Then I heard her say, “Oh Betty Lou-Who (I added the Lou-Who part in my head) that is so sweet of you to do that.” Just another day in ministry.

Another 19th birthday...

I woke up Friday morning to a powder-puff donut filled with cream and a giant birthday candle sticking inside it, along with a beautiful card with money inside from Mama and Pastor to their adopted granddaughter. If that wasn't enough they took me out for lunch at this great Italian restaurant in the neighborhood. I keep telling them I am going to be like Pastor's sister who is so large she got stuck in the MRI machine by the time I leave. They laugh and say "At least we will get to keep you."

It was a perfect day for a birthday. The weather was fantastic; I did some shopping (loving the fact that there is no tax on clothes here), had some great food, and received some wonderful notes.

I topped my day off by going to a dessert event at a country club to hear an organization called the Jubilee Fund speak about the projects they have started with Philadelphia students in the inner-city. I was shocked to find out that in most of the inner-city public schools approximately 11% of the grade 11 students will be proficient in reading, and on average 7.3% of students will be proficient in math by 11th grade. Among Philadelphia’s 114,000 low-income students only 6% will graduate with a proficient working knowledge of reading or math. I have seen the affects of a broken school system when teaching VBS and now running this kid’s program. We have many students who cannot read, write or follow basic written instructions in our classes. I just never realized that it was this bad. The Jubilee Fund provides scholarships for low-income students so they can attend Christian schools, which provide amazing opportunities to these students. Last year the church was able to get scholarships for some of our families, and the results have been astounding in those students.

All in all I’d say it was a pretty perfect way to spend another 19th birthday.

Oh the funny things that happen...

I am sure that those of you who have lived with other individuals know that this type of experience often provides you with a lot of information that you otherwise would not have known. Living with Mama Morton and Pastor is no exception. As I mentioned previously, Mama Morton and Pastor are the coolest and funniest people I have ever met, and the crazy part is that they are in their late 70’s. Here are just some of the funny moments that have taken place recently. I hope you enjoy.

1. Some of the teens that come to the church have taken up the trend of wearing their pants really low. I am sure you know what I am talking about. They look like they have had an accident in their pants and they now have to walk in a unique way to keep the pants from falling to the ground. Mama thinks that this looks absolutely ridiculous, so the other day when one of the teens walked by her, she pants him. That’s right, in the middle of church just pulled his pants to the ground and said “If you wanna wear your pants like that, this is what is going to happen.” So now when they see Mama coming, they hike up their pants to their waist.

2. While driving to Miss Betty Lou-Who's place last week, something took place with Mama Morton that I would have expected from a 17-year-old boy. We are waiting at a stop light and this young hot blonde girl in her 20's comes walking down the street. She was wearing this long sun dress, her hair down, sunglasses...and looked very put together. Mama Morton says to me..."Wow, I really like her dress, she looks great." To which I agree, because she did look nice. Then Mama Morton rolls down the window and yells at the girl "You look pretty." The girl does this awkward half stop in the middle of the street, and says..."Um, thank you". At this point I am dying laughing, while also sliding further down in my seat, hoping that all the people walking by don't think I was the one yelling at the hot chick.

3. Mama Morton recently informed me that she would like to get her nose pierced like mine. However, when she asked Pastor, he told her that the only way she could get her nose pierced was if she got one like bulls have so he could drag her around.

Oh Miss Betty Lou Who

I want to introduce you to Betty Lou-Who. Well her real name is Betty, but ever since I watched Jim Carrey’s “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” I can’t help but add the Lou-Who to Betty’s name. Betty is an elderly woman in her 80’s who has the personality of Eeyore from the children’s book Winnie the Pooh. For the past 35 years, Mama Morton (my host) has graciously given of her time to help Betty out with everyday tasks, such as doing her laundry, and driving her to the grocery store. Since I am living with Mama Morton I have started helping out with these weekly visits, and they provide me with great entertainment.

To start, every sentence that Betty says ends with a negative comment. For instance, today on our drive to the church to plan her funeral for the umpteenth time Betty says “It is too bad those nice flowers are in bloom, they will be dead any day.” She also is constantly “sick” and convinced she is dying. She runs to the doctor the moment she senses that something might be wrong. Today while halfway through eating an ice cream cone she informed us that every time she eats one she starts to cough exactly halfway through. The first time it happened she rushed to the doctor, and he advised her it was just because she was eating something cold. She is sure it is going to kill her though.

She also has a strange obsession with planning, and re-planning her funeral (Mama Morton says she has everyone’s lines memorized from typing out the bulletin and order of service a million times). Due to the fact that she thinks she is going to die every other minute she obsesses over every little detail of her funeral. For instance, she now wants a trumpeter, but she insists Mama Morton arranges a rehearsal so she can make sure it sounds good with the saxophone player. She recently decided that she wants to add an organ to her musical ensemble; however, the latest church that she picked for the funeral doesn’t have one. This of course has resulted in her contemplating changing her venues again. The one positive thing that came out of today’s visit to the church is that the chairs were a nice rose colour, which she feels is very important because she can’t have anyone sitting on chairs that are an ugly colour. Even though Mama Morton tells her she won’t see any of this, she insists on re-planning each detail. After dropping her off and arriving home tonight, she called us to say she isn’t feeling well so Mama Morton needs to put together a list of all the people she needs to call when she dies. This list has been revised and completed about 100 times already.

Betty also has a boyfriend named Vincent. How he puts up with her constant sorrow and “sickness” I will never know. She claims he’s going deaf, I think he just doesn’t want to hear her talking about the latest depressing thing that has taken place.

I am sure in the coming weeks I will have more amusing stories to share from my visits with Betty Lou-Who. It is amazing the types of people you meet when ministering to others.

My first taste of Liberian Food

Sunday was a first for a lot of things; my first time singing with the choir and worship team, my first time wearing Liberian clothes (see picture), my first time leading the Sunday school lesson, and my first time eating Liberian food.

As previously mentioned, on Sunday the church hosted an African dinner to celebrate the return of William Joe and his family from Liberia. To give you some background, William Joe has been in America for about 8 years now, separated from his daughter and wife who were still in Liberia. The reason for this was the difficulty getting the paperwork that would allow him to stay here as well as bring his family to America. During his time here he started serving as an elder and assistant to Pastor Morton at the church. Last June William Joe went to Liberia to get the last stamps for his paperwork from the government there which would allow him to live and work here as well as bring his family over. Unfortunately there was a big hold-up, and a lot of red tape that caused him to be stuck in Liberia until this February, when he and his family returned. He and his wife recently had an adorable little baby girl, expanding their family to four in total. So this dinner took place as a celebration of his return to America; finally.

This morning Mama Morton insisted that we all wear Liberian clothing to celebrate this special occasion. I looked a little like a giant white marshmallow with silver icing on me, but I have never received so many compliments on my clothing in my life. People were just tickled pink that I was wearing Liberian clothing to the service.

We arrived at church and after helping to set-up the last of the hall I went to choir practice. I am sure you can imagine in your head how I looked. When they swayed to the left, I was going to the right, and when they went right I was going to the left. The Liberian’s have this very special way of clapping, it is this unique three beat clap for every beat. I can’t for the life of me get it, although I do have three months to learn. Despite my awkwardness with the rhythm, it was great to worship with the church in this way.

My first Sunday school lesson went well. I had five boys in my class, and they were a lot of fun. It is nice to have the opportunity to reiterate what we learned on Saturday with some of the kids who are also there on Sunday.

After the service it was time for the food! Approximately 170 people showed up for the dinner, and we were greeting with 5 long tables completely packed with food. What I learned while serving those who came is that Liberian food is very spicy, their staple is rice and almost every dish has rice and then a sauce you put on top of it, and their delicacy is entire fish baked with all the bones in until it is very soft, and then they eat the bones and fish. Let’s just say after serving everyone I politely managed to avoid the entire fish that was staring at me, and focused instead of the rice dishes with sauce. It was quite spicy, but I really enjoyed it.

After finishing the dinner we stayed to clean-up the hall. It was a great, but very busy weekend, and I am looking forward to relaxing and catching up on things today. Now I know why most people in ministry take Monday off! The weekends are definitely going to be the busiest time of the week for me.

I survived...I think.

Saturday was my first day running the youth program on my own. I walked into the church that morning filled with an eager anticipation of what lay ahead. Some people think I am making a huge sacrifice to be here and give of my time in this way. To me it is such an awesome privilege to be in a city that I love, working on a project that makes me feel like I am truly using my skills and passion to make a difference. If I could sum up one of my biggest goals in life, it is to make a difference in the lives of those around me. I feel like I have been handed this amazing opportunity to do just that and it is an awesome feeling.

I was set-up and ready to go by 10:30. By 11:15 (15 minutes after the program is suppose to start) there were three children present. It wasn’t until 11:40, and eight children later that I started the program for the day. From what I am told, this is going to be very typical of the Liberian mentality that I have mentioned previously. Thanks to the wonderful help of my pastor’s wife from London, Faith, and Sue who leads our Kid’s Connection program, as well as my parents, I have been able to pull together some fantastic curriculum for this program. I don’t know what I would have done without their amazing help!

The lesson went very well, and the children were very attentive. I have some students in my class that have been present for the VBS program that my family runs. One of the little girls, Faith (pictured above), was in our very first VBS program, and has attended each year. She is a feisty little five-year-old who will give you a run for your money if you’re not careful, but she also can be the most loving child that you will ever meet; provided she likes you. So far I have managed to stay on her good side, so she helps me keep the class in line by threatening to call the student’s parents and ground them if they do not listen to me.

Two of my students just arrived from Liberia last week, and so they have a hard time understanding my English as they mostly speak in their tribal tongue. Through pictures and hand gestures; however, we make it work. The program was supposed to wrap-up for the day at 1:00, but the students didn’t leave until closer to 3:00. I am going to have to get creative in having back-up things to do if this happens again next week.

After finishing up with the children, I spent the rest of the day helping set-up the church hall for a large African dinner that we were hosting on Sunday. This dinner is a celebration of the return of William Joe and his family from Liberia. I am quickly learning that ministry is often not glamorous in any way, but involves things such as wiping down tables, carrying chairs up three flights of stairs, and doing the dishes. We didn’t get home until after 8:00 and I was more then happy at that point to crash onto the couch. I am looking forward to my first taste of Liberian food tomorrow, and I am sure my first choir experience should provide great entertainment.

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore...

Tonight I went to the weekly Bible Study at the church. Here are some of the prayer requests that were raised.

"Please be with a member of our church as a shooting happened two houses down from him this evening" (we drove by the street and the police car on the way home from church)

"Please be with a little girl from the church as her neighbor was shot right in front of her and she was shaken up by the situation"

"Please be with a member of our church as both of her sons are in jail right now and she is taking care of their children"

"Please be with a member of our church as she is living in a really rough area and wants to move"

Afterwards I sat and talked with a wonderful lady from the church. She was telling me about all the shootings that take place on her street, and the people who have been murdered. She told me she is lucky though, because her area is pretty safe and God protects her.

I feel so completely sheltered when I come here. Since when is it normal to have shootings take place on your street, or as a little child watch your neighbor be shot to death? Despite the overwhelming pain and need that exists, there are also glimmers of hope. There is the husband that the church was able to get into a drug and alcohol program that has been clean for many years now and is a wonderful husband and father to his family. There is the lawyer whose life was completely changed through the ministry of the church and now he gives free legal services to those in need that the church refers to him.

To me this is Philly; raw, painful and totally awesome.