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.

I am home.

I woke up this morning only to find out that the Easter bunny had visited me through the night. I am almost 24 and I believe this is the first time the Easter bunny has visited me and left a basket of goodies. In fact I am eating my chocolate bunny's head as I write this (May he rest in peace). All that to say, any day starting out with chocolate is a good one (for my mood at least - not my figure)!

Not only was today Easter Sunday, which in and of itself is a wonderful celebration of life, it was also my first Sunday in Philly. Walking into the church this morning was like coming home for me. Granted with all the moving I have done in the past couple of years there are a number of places that feel like home to me. My parent's place, Jello's parent's place, and Philly. I wish you could be here to experience a morning service here in the inner-city. First of all, I am about one of five Caucasian people who attend the church, so I stick out like a sore thumb in the congregation of about 150. The rest of the individuals are primarily Liberian and African-American. But what would especially strike you if you attended Grace church would be the singing. Imagine a large gospel choir, the drums going, people clapping, and a man leading the worship in joyful exuberance. Then whatever picture you have in your head, times that by about 20. These people are so into their worship. It just feels so real and refreshing.

Of course, every time my family visits they call us the "frozen chosen" because we just are not able to get the rhythm or convey the same passion that they bring to the table. Just imagine a pew full of white people clapping randomly and stiffly moving from side to side. Thankfully they love us despite our awkward attempts of following their clapping and hip swaying. They've asked me to be part of the choir, and I can only imagine that this position will provide entertainment to all who are there as I awkwardly clap out a beat and sway with the best of them. I predict it will be similar to my first aerobics step class experience. Everyone went left and I went right. Everyone stepped up and I was stepping down. Thank goodness for the ability to laugh at ourselves. I am sure I will be learning a lot of that in the next few months.

The church is also extremely welcoming. In fact when the time comes to greet those around you they have to actually put a time limit on it or it would go all day. People are so friendly and open. I feel truly loved and accepted there, even though some of these people have never met me or know me. To them I am the girl from Canada, and they welcome me with open arms.

My day was capped off with hanging out with my coolest Aunt and Uncle who live about five minutes away from where I am staying. It’s day two in Philly, and I feel like I am home.

Day One...

I woke up this morning to the sun streaming through my window and the birds chirping. It was a perfect day here in Philly, and it brought a smile to my face. I started my day with an eager excitement for what lay ahead, not just in the day but also in the next three months.

Today was my first day with the youth that I am going to be running the program for. To give you some context to this post I need to introduce you to my hosts who are also the pastor and his wife of the church that I am working with. To most people they are George and Ruth Morton; to me they are Mama Morton and Pastor Morton. They are both in their late 70's, but have the energy of 30-year-olds. If you met them you would never guess that they are as old as they are. They are also the most hospitable, funniest and coolest people you will ever meet. They have been leading the church in the inner-city for over 20 year's now and are loved deeply by all who attend. Their home, also the place I am staying at, is about 40 minutes outside of the inner-city.

Mama Morton and I drove into the city this morning for the program, which was to start at 11:00 am. Something you will learn very quickly here is that Liberian time is extremely laid back and runs on a "we'll get there when we get there" mentality. Due to the fact that the church is made up of mainly Liberians, the children did not all arrive until closer to 12:00 (I do believe this laid back mentality may be the thing that frustrates me the most during the next three months). When they finally had all shown up, I had about 12 children in my class, with many promises of more to come in the future. The age gap was 3 year's old to 14. Quite the span, which introduces some challenges as you can imagine. This week's lesson focused on Easter, and was primarily run by Mama Morton and another lady from the church (Maria) - considering I had just arrived the night before. I helped out where needed and provided a lot of entertainment for the children.

Many of the children knew me from previous visits in the past few summers, but there were many new faces as well. The biggest struggle was learning to pronounce their names and understanding what some of the children were saying. Most of the children have very thick accents, but we communicated through hand signals and lots of repeated phrases. There was a lot of joy and laughter, and I think the next three months are going to be very special. That being said, I came home and had a nap. Running after children for 3 hours can be very exhausting.

I have arrived...

I have arrived in Philadelphia, and it feels great to finally be out of the car. After being stuck at the border for over two hours due to traffic(note to self, try to avoid border crossings on long weekends), passing about 30 police officers giving people tickets (thankfully and miraculously I was not one of those individuals), and enjoying the beautiful sunshine and great tunes I am here.

After some unexpected changes and a last minute decision to move out of my apartment the past few days have been a whirlwind to say the least. The only major thing that was missed: my laptop did not make it from London to Philly. Worse things could have happened.

Although I am exhausted, I am excited to be starting this adventure. Tomorrow will be my first time with the youth that I will be running my program for. I am looking forward to it.