tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50011093829547603822024-03-13T21:32:39.522-07:00Go And Do Likewise Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-35005313518247451172014-05-17T05:39:00.001-07:002014-05-17T05:42:32.375-07:00What's Coming Home with Me?<div class="MsoNormal">
I can hardly believe that in a month and a half I will be
stateside again. This has been an incredible journey that has really only just
begun. I’ve learned more about myself and about God than I ever could have
expected. I’ve learned and lived in another culture that is so rich and there
are so many parts I want to take home and adapt. In big and small ways I’ve
already taken on parts of Madagascar that you will for sure notice. Here is a
brief look at what some of those might be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->English might not always come out of my mouth. I
apologize in advance for speaking Malagasy to you. I worked really hard to
learn the language and in some situations English escapes me and all that comes
to mind is Malagasy. Ask me to teach a few phrases! I’d love to teach you! <br />
<br /></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->When I shake your hand or give you something, I
may grab my right forearm with my left hand. It is a sign of respect here and
so I’ve grown accustom to it. <br />
<br /></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Eka. Three little letters that mean ‘yes’. It
sounds cooler than just ‘yes’ so I may continue to use various of ‘eka’ to say
‘yes’. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->If I have to pass in front of you, I may drop
one arm real low and awkwardly duck down while saying “Azafady”, which in this
case means excuse me. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Along with weird yes…I’ll make different noises
for yes and no then you are used to hearing. The sound American’s make for ‘no’
actually means ‘yes’ here. The sound for ‘no’ is just silly and I love it. Wait
until you hear it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->I forever more with it rice with a spoon. I’m
not sure how I ever ate rice with a fork before!</div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->I may be a rice snob. Uncle Ben’s rice has
nothing on Madagascar rice. <br />
<br /></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->You may think I’ve developed some sort of weird
twitch in my lips. Malagasy use their lips to point to things and people. The
last week I’ve caught myself doing it too. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
These are all pretty silly. I’ve
picked up more than these quirks in my time here but some things are just worth
waiting to see and experience for yourself. See you soon, friends. </div>
Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-39448564073933996832014-05-17T05:37:00.000-07:002014-05-17T05:37:16.574-07:00Going in the Same Direction
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My first ride on the city bus was not my favorite experience
in Madagascar. Thankfully, the Mada-Gar 7 ups were still all together in
Ansirabe along with our coordinators and our Malagasy teachers. The bus was packed
full and there was hardly any space to move. It was overwhelming to say the
least. I remember getting off the bus and saying, “Well, if I never have to do
that again that’d be fine by me”! However, ask me today and I’ll tell you that
riding the city bus is one of my favorite things to do! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fianarantsoa is a really big city so riding the bus,
although not a must, is preferable for some destinations. Although, I must give
myself plenty of time to get to where I’m going. There is a bus stop about a
ten-minute walk from my house. Sometimes a bus is there and sometimes I have to
wait a little while. That particular bus stop is part of four different routes.
Back in September, I was only brave enough to take on one of the routes. Today,
I can hop on any of them and confidently navigate where I am going! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When a bus comes, I greet the man collecting the money and
get on. Most buses have about five or six rows of two-seater benches on both
sides with a tiny aisle between. There is also the best seat on the bus, right
next to the driver. Typically, that seat holds two people. When all the seats
are filled up, people must stand in the aisle and in the back of the bus. The
stop by my house is one of the first, so I almost always have a seat going into
to town but going back home, I’m more likely to stand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a cool culture on the bus. If there is a woman who
is pregnant or carrying a small child when there are no seats left, men,
children, and other women will give up their seat for her. Same thing goes for
an elderly person that comes on the bus. On several occasions, men have even given up their seat for
me. I love seeing people respecting and serving other people. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I always seem to make a friend or two on the bus. I sit down
and usually greet a few people to make their stares less awkward. Eventually,
someone wants to test how far my Malagasy goes and will strike up a
conversation. I continue as far as my language skills allow which always gives the
people around me great joy. Now I have group of bus friends between the
drivers, workers, and other frequent riders! </div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-31572922309416741842014-03-31T00:03:00.001-07:002014-03-31T00:03:33.459-07:00I'm Blessed
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have bills.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have student loans because that means I was
able to attend a four-year private liberal arts college and pay for it later. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have medical bills because it means I was
able to seek medical attention when I needed it and not when I could afford it.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have rent to pay because it means I have a
place to live. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have a water bill because I have running
water 24 hours a day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have an electricity bill because I have
lights when it is dark. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have a gas bill because it means my house can
be warm when it is cold and food can be easily prepared daily on a gas stove. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to pay for garbage removal because it means I
don’t have to find a place for it and it is no longer in my living space.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to have car troubles because it means I have a
car that can break down. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m blessed to “barely make ends meet” each month because in
the end, the ends still meet and I am blessed more than I recognize. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am blessed to have bills.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-66085804965229320052014-03-30T23:59:00.000-07:002014-03-30T23:59:09.449-07:00Amboaloboka- Eat Fresh!
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<br />
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One of the many things I love about Amboaloboka, the school
I live and work at, is the fresh food. A good portion of what we eat comes
straight from our own backyard. The students are encouraged to practice their
gardening skills by having a small garden of their own. We have three plots of
land, one for each class, in or around our property. The teachers from Fa Fa
Fi, the agriculture department, teach the girls how to start and maintain a
garden. The school provides the land, the seeds, the water, and the time for
the girls to practice their gardening skills. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most of the students at Amboaloboka tend a garden because it
is a way to earn money. Yes, that’s right, the school buys their produce! The girls
pay a monthly fee for their education and the food cost is wrapped up into that
fee. When a crop is ready to be harvested, the student lets a teacher know and
the school or my household will buy the produce and eat it for dinner! Between
the three plots of land there are carrots, green peppers, another type of
pepper called sakay be, green onion, ginger, greens, lettuce, cucumbers,
squash, tomatoes, green beans, red and white (we’d call them green) grapes, and
pumpkins! All of which are delicious! We also have a couple banana, orange,
papaya, and avocado trees right outside my house. Those however are first come
first serve and go pretty darn quick!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think this is such a great idea! The students get hands on
practice and guidance from their teachers. I’m confident that when girls go
back to their community they will be able to start a garden and provide for
their families. The students also benefit by being able to make a little money.
Some students put the money towards tuition, others save the money to be able
to travel home at breaks, or treat themselves to a coke or new clothes. And of
course, it is always rewarding to enjoy the fruits of your labor. The girls
take great pride in their produce, as they should, because it is delicious. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am hoping I will have learned enough this year to start a
little garden of my own someday. Eating fresh food and with the seasons is
something I have really come to appreciate and will miss greatly! I mean,
taking fruit right from the tree, what’s better? </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-16582249165480575852014-03-10T00:32:00.000-07:002014-03-10T00:32:09.610-07:00My Shades
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I brought two pairs of sunglasses to Madagascar. I brought two
because days before leaving Omaha I lost my favorite pair and like the American
consumer I was, immediately bought a new pair. As it would be I found the new
pair before I left and decided on bringing both. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hardly anyone wears sunglasses in Fianar. I don’t know how
they do it. When I lift my sunglasses to have a conversation with someone I get
the absolutely worse case of squinty eyes followed by a fit of sneezing. Yet,
somehow most everyone here gets by without them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks ago I put my sunglasses on top of my head so I
could successfully flag down a bus to pick me up at an “unofficial” stop fully
knowing that the bus wasn’t really going to make a complete stop for me. I
jumped up and held on, waiting for people to scoot forward so I could actually
stand in the bus. (Don’t worry, mom! I do this all the time now and my bus
worker friends would never let me fall off! And let’s be real, I’ve already
made friends with all the bus people. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
) In the midst of our shuffling my sunglasses fell off my head, out of the bus,
and on to the street. I was ready to say my goodbyes to them, there was no way
I would hop off the bus to get them but to my surprise, two men on the bus and
one man on the street rushed to rescue them. I continuously thanked them and secretly
was really happy I didn’t have to part with those quality Wal-Mart sunglasses. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day, they broke. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although my family here mourned my loss, I knew it would be
okay because I had brought another pair! Last week, I was on retreat with the other
MADA-GAR 7 UPS. We enjoyed God’s marvelous creation and each other at
Andringitra National Park. One day we were hiking and out of no where I hear a
“pop” and a lens falls from my sunglasses. Now, I was a little bummed but knew
ultimately I’d be okay and I could survive without. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the last few days I’ve gone without sunglasses. My eyes
are in a continuous state of squint and between the sun and the changing of the
seasons I am constantly sneezing but I realized the barrier those two dark
lenses creates. I’m conscience about taking my sunglasses off when I talk to
someone but while I’m walking around they were always on, always hiding my
eyes. And I never realize how much they hid until I went without. These past
days more people than ever have greeted me and I believe it is because they can
see my eyes. I assume it makes me more approachable. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, I decided I needed to replace my shades and so I
bought another pair. I went to these two ladies who have quite the selection
whom I pass almost everyday. They were happy to help me pick out the perfect
pair. Actually, the women selling fruit nearby and the man-selling cell phone
chargers wanted to help me too. Although we all had some different taste in
style we all settled on a pair. It was a community affair. As I put on my new
sunglasses I couldn’t help but think about the lenses, figuratively and
literally, I see Fianar through and the lenses I am seen through in return. And
though I can’t go everyday without my sunglasses, I try to let them be the only
tinted lenses I see and experience Madagascar through.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Written March 6, 2014 </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-81438457132950717612014-01-26T23:40:00.002-08:002014-01-26T23:40:22.680-08:00Salama Marie!
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pack my bag for the day at Sema Fi, raincoat, crafts,
dictionaries, some paper and pens, puzzles, bingo cards, and water. I slather
sunscreen on my face and feet the only places that still burn while I am in my
beautiful and much cooler than the coast, highlands. Calling out to my mom I
say, “<i>Handeha hiasa aho”, </i>I’m going
to work! I leave the house and make sure to pass the guard’s children playing
under the tree to see get the latest news from them which is always <i>tsy misy, </i>not much. Reaching up I undo
the latch on the door swinging it open only as far as I need. On the other side
I stand on my tiptoes to place the latch back into its locked position. As soon
as I am out of their sight I hear the children yell “Bye bye-oooo”. I echo back
to them. My first stop is the welder’s house. As I round the corner I listen to
see if they have begun working or not. We bid each other good morning as I
pass. I make my way through the little tunnel wondering which child I will see
first when I am visible again hoping it is one who I have taught my name.
Regardless of whom, I am always greeted by many little ones. We exchange a
greeting and I continue on. I’ve arrived at the big house. The children jump up
and down as they chant “Salama Marie! Salama Marie!” I’m puzzled, as I’ve never
told these children my name. I ask the news of the parents who are usually
preparing breakfast, washing clothes, or taking care of one of the children.
After sometime we end our conversation and I continue down the hill. I’ve
almost reached my favorite part of the walk and I can’t help but get excited.
However, I don’t want to miss the beauty of the rice fields I pass through so I
make sure to slow my pace. As I reach of the top of the hill I see the stand.
The fruit stand where I see my Malagasy grandma. When our eyes meet she stands
and with a huge smile and slight chuckle she says, “Salama Marie!”. Thus begins
the conversation I look forward to every morning. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met my Malagasy <i>nenibe,
</i>grandma in late November. When I came back from retreat in the end of
November it was mid-letchi season. I was addicted to this delicious fruit. One
day I noticed this new fruit stand along my walk because of the plethora of letchi.
I stopped there on my way home and bought a kilo. My nenibe was so impressed
with my Malagasy and couldn’t stop telling me! The next day, I walked by and
she called out to me. Each afternoon on my way home I would buy more letchi and
we would talk even more. Finally, we asked for each other’s names. As usual,
Molly is a difficult name for the Malagasy and my name became Marie. Sadly
letchi season came to an end and I feared this friendship would end too but it
hasn’t. Nenibe has continued her stand and everyday I continue to stop and say
hello. But nenibe, wasn’t always my nenibe. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spent a week in Manakara (along the west coast of
Madagascar) after the first of the year with my friends Karis and Maia. One of
our priorities was to bring fruit back as <i>voandalana
</i>fruit from the road. I bought coconuts, passion fruit, and tiny bananas to
bring for my loved ones back in Fianar. The morning after I returned I packed
my bag again but this time with fruit. I set out on the walk that I described
above and when I reached the stand I greeted nenibe with the tradition
handshake and three kisses on the cheek. Then I opened my bag and pulled out a
bag of fruit for her. She clapped, smiled, and laughed saying something along
the lines of “<i>Malagasy ianao! Efa mahay
voandalana” </i>You are Malagasy! You already know about fruit from the road.
She then told me that I am her white Malagasy granddaughter and she is my
Malagasy grandma. Now every morning, before I head to work I greet my Malagasy
nenibe. My nenibe loves me as she has told most of her friends and family in
the area about me. Now, even people I have never met greet me with, “Salama
Marie!”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At YAGM orientation back in U.S. we were given a copy of the
poem <i>Passover Remembered… </i>by Alla
Bozarth-Campbell, the poem is near and dear to many of our hearts. Different
lines support different stories of my journey here and I know other YAGMs feel
the same way. The line that is close to my heart today is, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Continue to call each other by the names I’ve given you to
help remember who you are.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At Amboaloboka I am Tantine Molly. At Sema Fi, I am the
letter “W” tapped of the heart two times. To my sisters in Madagascar I am
letchi. To my actual sister I am Mo. To my best friend and small group at
church I am Mo-Mo. To my nenibe and the area surrounding my home I am Marie.
These names not only remind me <i>who I am</i>
but that <i>I belong </i>and that I am loved
enough to be called<i> by name. <b><o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-65222450410186709182014-01-26T23:39:00.001-08:002014-01-26T23:39:09.888-08:00My Sisters, My Best Friends
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are two very important people in my life here in
Madagascar that I want to introduce to all of you. I’ve talked about them in
passing but they mean so much to me that they deserve a whole blog. As the
title suggest, they are my sisters but have also become my best friends. Their
names are Hanta and Paulette. “Technically” speaking they aren’t my host sisters,
as my host mom, Salina, does not have any biological children of her own.
However, Salina has many spiritual children and Paulette and Hanta are two of
them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Paulette is a former student of Amboaloboka and now serves
as a practicum teacher and helps keep Salina’s house up to tip top shape
complete with delicious meals three times a day seven days a week. Paulette is
primarily responsible for our 200 hundred chickens and their eggs. She and
Hanta work together selling our eggs all over Fianar. The students, who are
learning to take care of the chicken, pigs, and rabbits, learn under the
supervision of Paulette. She even helped deliver 24 baby pigs after the first
of the year! Paulette’s willingness to serve is incredible. She always has a
smile on her face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, a little bit more about our friendship! We began our
friendship with my first time washing my clothes. There have been many times
Paulette will get tasked with showing me where something is in town and we will
spend a good couple of hours walking around together. Although my Malagasy is
limited, as is her English, we always find a way to communicate. I love
learning new words from Paulette. She will slowly sound the new word out and
then continue to use it throughout the week or until I can remember it on my
own. We have also found a new way to communicate, laughter. Paulette and I
laugh constantly! It has become our unspoken goal to find new ways to make each
other laugh everyday. It began with dancing anytime there was music on. Next,
it turned into tickling each other. Every meal we eat our <i>Fanafody </i>or medicine of <i>sakay</i>
(a perfect combination of spicy chilies, garlic, onion, ginger, vinegar, and
salt). At some point we even made our own secret handshake that we do at the
end of each meal. Recently, we have started making up our own songs in Malagasy
to sing to each other. There are nights where our faces hurt because we have
been laughing and smiling so much! Salina calls us Molly Mikilika and Paulette
Mikiliki, that comes from the word to tickle, “Mikilikiliky”
(me-key-Lee-key-lee-key). Although we have created our own pet names, I call
her cookie and she calls me letchi after our respective favorite desserts. The
end of each night we call out to each other, “Goodnight, cookie”, “Goodnight,
letchi”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then there is my wonderful Hanta. Hanta just finished her
studies at Amboaloboka last year and now is learning more from Paulette. Every
morning Hanata goes to the market to get the food for the day. When she returns
she prepares breakfast for us and then for the pigs! Hanta is also very good at
sewing and enjoys making new things in her “free” time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hanta and I immediately bonded over music. When I finally
got the courage to bring the ukulele out she desperately wanted to learn. For a
while every night we would sit on the porch while we cooked and I would teach
her. Now, she may be better than I am! We love taking turns playing and singing
together. About a week ago, I came home from the cyber café singing “It is Well
With My Soul” after being serenaded by Jon. Hanta heard me singing and started
singing in Malagasy! We spent at least an hour if not more teaching each other
the song in our respective languages. We’d sing the whole thing in English, in
Malagasy, and then what I found the most beautiful was singing in our
respective languages at the same time. This past Sunday we sang, “Blessed
Assurance” (in Malagasy) at church. However, I can’t resist singing in English
sometimes and neither can Hanta. So together in the midst of over a hundred
voices singing in Malagasy our two voices were raised in English. One of the
many things I love about Hanta is her eagerness to learn all things English and
American. When it is just the two of us we always use this mix of English and
Malagasy that I think only we could understand because when we are together we
aren’t afraid of making mistakes. We support each other, teach each other, we
ask questions and grow in more than just a language.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you could only see the three of us together! There are
times we laugh so hard we literally cry. When mom isn’t looking we take extra
dessert. When mom isn’t home we have letchi eating contest! I could probably
write a whole book on the silly adventures we have together. We always have a
great time. I am so thankful for them and our friendship and the unique ways we
have bonded. I love my actual little sister, Emily, very much and most days I
love being her older sister but I’ve always wanted an older sister. I am so
blessed to have two older sisters here in Madagascar.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-008fqO7NWSc/UuYM8NhLLyI/AAAAAAAAAF0/nUMMmvKywcs/s1600/DSCN2060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-008fqO7NWSc/UuYM8NhLLyI/AAAAAAAAAF0/nUMMmvKywcs/s1600/DSCN2060.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
This is what a typical night looks like. Hanta is in the white and Paulette is in the purple.<br />
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-57751221615527268972013-11-16T04:35:00.000-08:002013-11-16T04:35:50.136-08:00Happy Two Months!
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<br />
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Happy two month Anniversary of
living in Fianarantsoa to me! It is hard to believe it has been two months
since I stepped off the bus in Fianar and was bombarded with sights, sounds,
smells, way too many people wanting to carry my bags, and a whole bunch of
feelings. I remember tiptoeing around the Amboaloboka compound careful not to
offend anyone or do anything I wasn’t supposed to do. Now, although I am still
conscious of how my actions are perceived by others I do a lot less tiptoeing
around. Hanging out with my students does not overwhelm like it used to. In
fact, I often chose to go hang out with them because I love our time together. I
am no longer afraid to sit in on another class and learn how to cook, sew, and
knit along side my students.
Although I will say, I wish I had spent more time learning from my mom.
She is quite crafty and an excellent cook. Learning how to knit in a different
language or without any words at all is a challenge and to think I could have
learned years ago! Nonetheless, I enjoy the charades and laughs that come with
our time spent together. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Hopefully you are hearing what I am
trying to say, I love Fianarantsoa. I have learned so much from my time here
and I want to share twelve things I have learned with you. There are twelve
because the 12<sup>th</sup> is the day I arrived in Fianar. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I now can successfully eat just about anything
with a spoon, and prefer it. When tasked with eating with a fork, I failed
miserably. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I have learned to love the sound of the roasters
crowing at daybreak. It used to put a sour start to my morning and now they are
the only alarm I need. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I have learned the order in which the people
gathered around the table served themselves. I have even impressed some of our
guest by uncovering the rice and placing the serving spoon pointed at them,
signifying that they are welcome to serve themselves first. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->With the help of Karis I have learned how to
start a fire in the charcoal stove so I can make popcorn whenever a craving
hits. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I have perfected the art of a bucket bath. You’d
be surprised how much less water you use when it isn’t coming streaming out by
the gallons. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I have learned that the rhythm of The Lord’s
Prayer and The Apostle’s Creed is the same in Malagasy and English. There is
something beautiful about saying them together. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I can navigate the bus system by myself with
confidence. I can even tell the man who collects the money that I need change
if he tries to charge me more. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Malagasy do not like thunderstorms or rain in
general. So I have learned that I am deemed crazy for sitting outside on the
porch when the rain arrives.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I have mastered the art of placing 10 stamps on
an envelope without covering either of the addresses. Believe me, this is more
challenging than you would think. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->10.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I can read Malagasy well enough to sing with my
students at church better know as the Amboaloboka chorale. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->11.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->I have learned that you always prepare more food
than what you need because you never know when a guest might drop by and you
must always serve them something to eat. There is always room for one more
here. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 84.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -48.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->12.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Finally, I have learned that I couldn’t have
learned any of this without leaving the comfort of my room. Some days are
harder to leave my room than others but God always surprises me with what He
has planned for that day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here’s to two months in Fianar! Thank-you for being part
of my journey here, I always enjoy hearing from you. Your support means the
world to me!</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-75310563988239921352013-10-25T05:14:00.001-07:002013-10-25T05:14:07.537-07:00Nuggets of Information!
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I am so grateful to all of you that read my blog! Thank you.
It is nice to know that people are reading. Thank you for your questions in
emails, facebook messages, and letters. I love to answer them. I apologize,
because I’ve noticed a theme…you all want to know what my daily life is like
and I haven’t told you! Mainly because I don’t have a “typical” day yet, even
so, I’ll try to flush out the details I do have for you! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I live at Sekoly Baiboly Amboaloboka in Fianaranstoa. The
words look more difficult to pronounce than they actually are, I promise. Maybe
I’ll make a youtube video pronouncing them. Sekoly (school) Baiboly (Bible)
Amboaloboka is a Bible school for young women ages 16-30. Although, I’m pretty
sure this year our oldest student is 24. There are about fifty young women who
live here from October- June. There are two tracks here you can take, the fist
is a 9-month program. These students focus solely on taking care of rabbits,
chickens, pigs, and bees, gardening, cook, and this year learning English from
me. The second track is an 18-month program. These students learn to cook, sew
by hand and with a sewing machine, knit, crochet, as well as taking care of the
animals and gardening. They also take courses on Martin Luther, ethics,
theology, psychology, counseling, and again English from me. They are certainly
busy! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I teach here on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday afternoons.
Teaching English in a language you don’t know very well has its challenges but
somehow the students are learning! Two of the best things I have taught are,
“You are beautiful” and what a hug is. Now every morning after devotion I am
greeted with, “Hello, Tatie (Aunt) Molly. You are beautiful. ” and a hug. I’m
sure it is no surprise to anyone, but I love these young ladies. They have
quickly become little sisters to me. After I finish class students rush to my
side to help me put away my things, then one carries my bag, another my water
bottle. I have no idea how it happens but I instantly have at least 6 of them
hanging on to me ready to walk me to my house so I can put away my things and
come back out to hang out with them. I love it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next, there is Sema Fi, the deaf school. I have about a
45-minute walk to the school. It has an absolutely breath taking view as it
sits up really high. There are again, about 50 students who live at the school
from October-June. These students range from about 5 years old to 18 or maybe a
little older. They have 4 teachers and I think 2 maybe more young adults that
live with the students and help take care of them. The students are very eager
to sign with me so I am quickly trying to learn enough to be able to understand
and sign with them. Right now, I am going there on Wednesdays and Thursdays. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, SALT, the seminary. My role here has yet to take
shape but I will most likely be teaching the wives English and leading a
conversation club with the Pastors. Most of the Pastors have already learned
English and just need help with pronunciation and understanding within the
context of a conversation. SALT, like Sema Fi is about a 45-minute walk. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hopefully this answers a few more questions you have. If
not, ask away and I will do my best to answer them. Thank you again for
reading. I really do appreciate the support, love, and prayers for you all back
home! </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-40062395763169246302013-10-25T05:13:00.002-07:002013-10-25T05:13:23.019-07:00Sanctuary
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I was blessed to be able to spend the month of May in
Tanizania, Africa in 2010. I’d say it was the best experience of my life but
I’ve had some here equally amazing. I was a picky eater back then. Okay, I’m
still pretty picky but I have broadened my horizons! In Tanzania we would
travel to small villages in the bush, worship with them and share a meal
together. The meal almost always consisted of goat. Before the meal we would
have “tea” made from warm goat milk, and bread. I wasn’t too fond of this
cuisine. Luckily, I had wonderful friends who would drink my goat milk and eat
my goat and bread so I didn’t have to. Thank you Jess, Nicole, Jen, and
Britney! However, one meal I sat next to our professor who wasn’t going to let
me get away with passing my food off. He sat next to me and told me to find my
sanctuary. I looked at him puzzled. My sanctuary is on a different continent!
It will take me a couple plane rides to find my sanctuary at Wartburg or back
in Papillion! He explained he wasn’t referring to a physical place but more of
a state of mind. The first Webster definition of sanctuary is, “a place of
refuge or safety”. Sure, this could be a physical place but it can also be a
state of mind. He continued to encourage me to find my sanctuary within my
mind. Somewhere I felt safe. With each bite he reminded me of my sanctuary. It
happened all too slowly but eventually, I finished my whole piece of mysterious
goat meat. To this day, I vividly remember this exchange and use to conquer
other uncomfortable situations or just in my daily life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Typically, my sanctuary, my safe places are gazebos. I have
no idea why I am drawn to gazebos but I am. One day I hope to have a gazebo of
my own. LOVASOA, the Norwegian compound we had our three-week orientation at
had a gazebo. Every morning that is where I could be found. I went to the
gazebo to take refuge, not that I was in any physical danger, but moving to a
new country is a challenge and my gazebo felt safe. As our three-weeks came to
a close I was sad. Not only was I leaving the comfort of my friends but also
the safety of my gazebo. Moving to Amboaloboka along with many other
transitions meant finding a new sanctuary. Anna & Ian, two YAGM volunteers,
stayed with me the first night before heading out to their own placements. As
the three of us walked around the compound Anna spotted this little gazebo type
area and said it could be my gazebo. It is filled with numerous plants that are
just now starting to bloom. It is beautiful but after I tried it out, it just
wasn’t fit to be my gazebo, my sanctuary. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am pleased to tell you that I have found my sanctuary and
it was in the most unlikely place. There is a small covered porch off of the
kitchen. It actually, for all extensive purposes, is the kitchen. There are
three charcoal stoves on this porch where all of our meals are prepared. At
first, this porch intimated me. There were a lot more young women living in the
house, six to be exact, compared to the two now (not including me or Salina).
All six young women gathered on the porch to help cook. I’d try to come and
help but with my limited Malagasy it was a challenge so I’d leave. Eventually,
I started to stay and we would play a little game of charades to teach each
other new words. As the weeks went on our numbers dwindled. Irena &
Janelle, my host cousins, went back to their home in the south of Madagascar.
Eliane, another host cousin, went back to work at the blind school several
hours away. And Rova, moved into the school building to be with her classmates.
Now, our porch has three attendees, Hanta, Paulette, and myself. Every night I
bring the ukulele out to the porch and Hanta and I take turns playing. Hanta,
who is learning English and ukulele, has successfully memorized the music and
words to, Father I Adore You, I Exalt Thee, and ironically, Sanctuary. We take
turns playing and who ever isn’t playing watches the meal cooking on the stove.
This porch, this time together, has become my sanctuary. All of my previous
sanctuaries have been different because they have been just for me. This one is
special because I have let two other people in but it still feels just as safe.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My porch sanctuary has served another purpose; it is a time and
place of worship. One of the things I miss most is standing next to my best
friend, Jenn, every Sunday singing our hearts out with praise and adoration for
Our God. I knew this would be something I’d miss because the last few times we worshiped
together I couldn’t get through a single song without tears streaming down my
face. I’ve struggled not having this time together with Jenn and I will
continue to miss it but now I have something different. I sit on the porch and
sing my favorite songs while Hanta and Paulette cook and listen. I get so into
it that sometimes I don’t realize students have come around the front of the
house to listen. What I really love is some of the songs I have sang so much
the women add harmonies. I look forward to this time every night. It is a
beautiful time of worship, and someplace safe, my porch sanctuary in
Madagascar. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-24763585842331886722013-10-05T05:45:00.001-07:002013-10-05T05:45:27.543-07:00Learning By Watching
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I’ve been doing a great deal of watching while I have been
in Madagascar. When you cannot always understand what is being said and you do
not have enough language to ask what to do, you watch. I have learned the order
the women I share a table with serve themselves by watching. I have learned the
precise way to scoop rice onto a plate, smoosh it down, and place the
appropriate amount of laoka (side) on top. I watch each greeting so I know when
a handshake is appropriate and when kisses on each check should be used. While
walking on an uneven path I stare at the person’s feet in front of me so I know
exactly where to step. Almost everything I do, I watch someone else first.
However, I am fortunate enough to be living alongside amazing women who not
only want me to watch them but also want to teach me and then watch me do it! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you are part of the Thanksgiving! Lutheran Church (T!LC)
community in Bellevue, Nebraska, you may be thinking this sounds similar to the
“D Square”. I was thinking the same thing! The “D Square” is short for
discipleship square. T!LC adopted this from 3D Ministries (www.weare3dm.com).
Each side of the square represents a stage of discipleship. The sides are as
follows, I do, you watch; I do, you help; you do, I help; you do, I watch. The
“I” refers to the person teaching and the “you” to the person learning. If you
look at how Jesus taught His displaces you will see this progression. What’s
really cool is that the young women here without realizing it have successfully
taken me through the square. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I’ve said, I’ve spent a lot of time watching while I have
been here. A good portion of that watching time is spent on the porch of my
house, where all the cooking happens. We have a small oven and a gas stove in
the kitchen but the students must cook on a charcoal stove so in solidarity, we
prepare our meals on the charcoal stove on the porch. Elliana, Paulette, Hanta,
and Rova work like a well oiled machine to prepare a delicious meal. I always
try and ask, “afaka manampy?” can I help but they always reply with a smile and
a no. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Salina told me that we had an excess of sweet potatoes so
the young women were going to make a cake. A cake out of sweet potatoes? I am
intrigued. I asked Salina to let me know when they would begin to prepare it because
I wanted to watch. I heard a soft knock on my door and it was Rova inviting me
to watch. So like usual, I stood in the kitchen and watched the women work with
such precision. Two of the girls beat eggs and sugar together until it was
completely smooth while the other two peeled and mashed the sweet potatoes. It
came time to add the sweet potatoes to the mix and I heard one of the women say
something to me I didn’t understand but I picked up one word “manampy”. Help,
manampy means help! I put it all together when I was handed the whisk. I was so
happy to be asked to help prepare this cake! Paulette began spooning in the
sweet potato as I cautiously whisked it all together. Occasionally, she would
spin the bowl or take the whisk from me and smooth out a clump. Next, came the
flour. Paulette added the flour to both my bowl and Rova’s bowl who was also
making this cake for the first time. It became a competition to see who could
mix in all the flour first. I mixed, and mixed, and mixed as Paulette watched
me and cheered me on with “tsara be!”, very good! I’m pretty sure Rova let me
win but all the women continuously called me the winner, as I had taught them
the words winner and loser earlier this week. We poured the batter into two
cake pans a placed them into a large pot that sat on a charcoal stove. What’s
really cool is you put the lid on upside down and add charcoal to the top of
the pot too. It sits like that for an hour or so before it is “vita” finished.
In the meantime we finished cooking dinner all while singing, laughing, dancing
and teaching each other new words. I have come to love the time we spend on the
porch together. The next morning we enjoyed our sweet potato cake for
breakfast. The women made sure to tell Salina which cake was mine and everyone
praised me for how it turned out. I couldn’t help but smile although knowing I
wouldn’t have been successful had I not had their help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I could say I have processed through the D square and
picked up on everything as quickly as I did with the sweet potato cake, but I
haven’t. It is a process that takes time. However, I am so blessed to have
women who are patient with me and show and tell me over and over again until I
understand. Even when I forget the next day they smile and repeat the process. That
is the beauty of living in a community of believers. Each day they forgive me
for forgetting yet again, give me the grace I don’t deserve and lovingly and
persistently teach me again. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-53181834660163348252013-09-20T05:17:00.003-07:002013-09-20T05:17:39.762-07:00He'll Wash Your Sins, Not Your Laundry
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Today, I learned how to wash my
clothes by hand! We learned once during orientation but I didn’t feel like I
had a good grasp on it. At first, Salina said that the young women could wash
my clothes but I insisted that I help and learn. You would think that such a
mundane task would be easy but there is a lot of work that goes into it! </div>
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First,
you make some soapy water and put your clothes in the water. Next, you take a
bar of soap and one garment. You rub the soap all over the garment and then rub
the garment together against your hands. When you do it right it looks cool and
makes an even cooler sound. I have yet to master it. After you think the
garment has been scrubbed enough you wring it out and put it in a bucket of
clean water. You continue this until all your clothes are in the second bucket.
Now, you don’t use soap but you still rub the garment together and wring it out
and place it in clean water. You continue this until the water is clean and the
garments are no longer soapy. This part of the process can take a while. Today
we rinsed and wrung out my clothes 4 times before they were finished. Of
course, you can assume the next task is hanging everything out to dry. Reading
this it sounds really easy but I promise you it is more work than you think! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
While I was washing my clothes I
began to think about sin. Yes, my sins are forgiven because Jesus already paid
that price but it still takes some work for me to repent. My sins are my dirty
clothes. The clothes are covered in dirt, shame, ugliness, hate…the list could
go on. God meets me where I am with the soap of Jesus to scrub my clothes
clean. Now, the dirt is washed away. The sin is cleansed and I am forgiven.
However, in order for me to repent and change the way I act and believe there
is so much more that needs to happen. That’s how I see each rinse cycle. Each
rinse may be a scripture that pertains to the sin, a devotion, a sermon, a
conversation with another believer, or a kairos moment from God. These things make up the water, the
water of life, and each time the garment is wrung out is a piece of the notion
to sin leaving. Whatever the rinse cycle may be is helping me change and grow
and hopefully do better next time. The clothes are hung out to dry, worn again,
and eventually they become dirty and full of sin again. The cleansing process
is repeated. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It is a continuous cycle. My
clothes will always get dirty and I will always sin. However, I’m always forgiven by the love of Jesus and the
grace of God. I believe if I am spending time in the living water through
scripture, prayer, devotions, sermons, and other believers I can make a
difference. I will never break the cycle of sin but if I’m trying to live like
Jesus lived, I’m happy. Jesus washed away my sins. Jesus washed away our sins.
If only he would wash my laundry too. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-66435212487665505482013-09-20T05:16:00.002-07:002013-09-20T05:16:17.038-07:00Arm in Arm
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Over the last month in Madagascar I
have learned many things. One of them is that I walk too fast for the Malagasy
culture. I’ve always known I am a fast walker but here I am extremely
fast. I want to share with you two
beautiful ways I have been reminded to slow my pace. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During
orientation on September 5<sup>th</sup> we were given the task to go on a
“culture capture”. Austin and Tanya didn’t give us many parameters other than
we had to be outside of the compound we have been living at for 1 hour and
bring something back with us. The something could be a thought, an idea, or
even something tangible. I set out having no idea what I was going to do or
where I was going to go. I began to pray asking God to guide me and show me
what he wanted to me to see. While I was praying I was quickly walking through
the streets. Eventually, I ran into a group of students on what appeared to be
a field trip. As you can imagine, they were walking pretty slow which slowed me
down as well. I realized how quickly I was walking and decided to make a
conscience effort to walk slower. I continued walking at my slower pace into a
residential area. A pousse-pousse driver had been following me for a while now
offering me a ride. I had politely declined several times but he was becoming
quite vocal and rude. Two women who had been walking in front of me heard the
driver and turned around to help me. After quite the exchange the pousse-pousse
driver left and the women and I began talking. I stumbled through what little
of a conversation I knew I could have and then we stared awkwardly at each other. Then the most wonderful thing happened,
each of the women took one of my arms and we began walking together. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On
Saturday the 14<sup>th</sup>, Rova, Hanta, Paulette, and I went out for a walk
and to get some things at the market. Again, God gave me the kairos to slow
down so that I could walk with these young women. I struggled to walk beside
them instead of a couple steps in front of them but I did the best I could. We
walked through the city and of course everyone stared at me. Rova must have
sensed that I was uncomfortable because she came next to me and grabbed my
armed. We continued the rest of the walk this way, arm in arm. Not only did
this make me feel like I was part of the community but it helped the community
see me as part of it too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These
are two beautiful reminders that I have to walk, both literally and figuratively,
with the Malagasy people this year. If I try to walk too quickly and do it on
my own I wont get anywhere. However, if I walk arm in arm with my community and
God who knows what is possible! So I am going to surrender my need to walk
quickly and instead take the pace of those I am walking with, walking arm in
arm. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-90863371119881988372013-09-20T05:15:00.004-07:002013-09-20T05:15:28.432-07:00Around The Table
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I hesitate to sound like the old Nickelodeon campaign (Was
it gather round the table?)…but something special happens around the table. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the last week I have come to
appreciate the time spent around the table. Of course it is great because I am
getting nourishment and everyone loves food but there is more to it. Before I get to the table it is always a
mystery how many people I will be sharing a meal with. Then I get to the table
and see how many places are set and begin to wonder who will fill those seats.
After some time everyone gathers round and we pause to say a prayer of
thanksgiving. Most of the time the prayer is in Malagasy and I can only pick
out a few words but sometimes one of the young women will say a prayer in
English. The meal always starts out quiet with awkward glances and smiles
across the table but by the end we are laughing and having a good time. This
has also been a great place for me to learn Malagasy and teach English in
exchange. Cultural barriers are broken around the table. I feel as if we come
to the table as strangers and leave as friends. I look forward to every meal
knowing that I will get my fill of not only food but conversations too. This is
not only true for meals at my house but for meals at Soatanana too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In
Soatanana we had no table to gather around but sat on the ground in a circle.
As always, someone would begin with a prayer. The young women from Amboaloboka
would then dish each of us a plate. At first I thought it was a coincidence but
later I realized that each meal the women would make a plate special for me.
Graciously, they gave me a smaller portion than everyone else so I would have
no problem cleaning my plate. Just like that the meal would begin and
conversations would slowly follow after. The first few meals were uncomfortable
for me. The conversations were all in Malagasy and happening way to fast for me
to understand. So I sat quietly and ate.
After a few meals, my new friend, Nirina, exposed that she knew English
and we began to talk. Eventually everyone began to take part in this
conversation that consisted of broken English and Malagasy. The time we spent together in meals
made me feel like part of the community. Again, we came to the table as
strangers and left as friends. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When
we come to break bread together we are in community. I can’t fully explain what
happens but I am so glad it does. Like I said, there is something special that
happens around the table. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-49546509063482647272013-09-20T05:14:00.000-07:002013-09-20T05:14:16.836-07:00Coming Home
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The past few days I have had quite the cultural immersion.
On Sunday the 15<sup>th</sup>, Salina (my host mom), Janette (a young woman who
works at Amboaloboka), the wife of the guard at Amboaloboka, and another young
woman who is friends with the other women set out to go to church to catch a
bus to Soatanana. We went to Soatanana for a conference and a ceremony for men
and women who completed their two-year sheparding training. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When
we arrived at the church there was one bus and tons of people. I quietly began
to stress out in my mind because the number of people who needed a ride and the
number of seats in that bus did not match up. Thankfully another bus and a
truck appeared! We loaded all of our things onto the top of the bus and set out
for Soatanana. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From
what I can tell, Soatanana is a very small countryside town. The town sits
nestled in between mountains, which provides for an excellent view. All the
members of my church stayed in one house. We were given two rooms to sleep and
eat in. The room I stayed in was of decent size but we had about twenty people
staying together. It definitely made for close quarters. We also shared a small
concrete room to “do our business” and shower in. I was thankful for a place to
sleep and eat but I wasn’t looking forward to staying there for three nights. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
conference was held outside in an open area. There was a stage set up with
chairs and a nice covering to provide those shade who sat under it. Everyone
else was expected to sit on the ground, a brick, or something they brought to
sit on. The mornings were always brisk but by the afternoon it was quite hot. I
do not know how the people bared to sit in the sun for hours but they did. I
was one of the fortunate who was invited to sit on stage. It doesn’t sit well
with me that I was invited on stage because I am a foreigner but I don’t have
enough language yet to communicate my feelings. The upside to sitting on the stage
was meeting Pastor Dennis from Tana. He whole heartily welcomed Karis (another
YAGM who is also in Finaranstoa and joined me in Soatanana for a day) and I to
Soatanana and because his English was so good he translated much of the service
on Tuesday. He let us ask endless questions, encouraged us to take pictures,
and was a nice friendly face to see throughout the conference. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even
with the translations from Pastor Dennis and Salina it was hard to fully
comprehend what was going on. From
what I did understand, it was hours and hours of church. Most days were filled
with five to eight hours of church. I found lots of time to read my Bible,
pray, let my mind wander, journal, and write letters to all of you lovely
people back home. As frustrating as it is not to know what is going on, it is
nice to be able to take for me in the midst of it all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After another long worship service,
packing the bus, and sharing a meal with at least 200 Malagasy people we left
Soatanana. I was tired, smelly, and hungry when we arrived back at Amboaloboka.
I just wanted to go shower, skip dinner, and go to bed. However as the
headlights from the taxi hit the house the door flung open and all the young
women came running to greet us. Excitedly they opened the car door and helped me
out. Each woman greeted me with, “Tongasoa”, welcome, a hand shake that is
almost good as a hug, and kisses on each cheek. (Emily, this is nothing like we
do. Haha <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>)
The welcome I received was just what I needed to forget about my awful mood.
After four days of feeling out of place it felt so great to be back to
somewhere familiar. After a much needed shower we shared a meal together. The
young women must have noticed that my favorite laoka (side) is potatoes with
eggs because that is what had. We prayed, ate, laughed, talked, and taught each
other new words but the best of all is that we were together again. For the
first time here I felt at home. Together at home. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-1185600678318047532013-08-26T11:50:00.002-07:002013-08-26T11:51:44.465-07:00Giggles & Smiles<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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I cannot even begin to express to
you the sights, the sounds, the smells, or the people of Madagascar using words
alone. Not even a picture would
capture everything I have seen and heard. You might be asking, why are you even
writing if you can’t put into words or a picture what you are
experiencing? It’s because the
most impactful moment I have experienced you can experience too. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
On Sunday, our first morning in
Antsirabe, I found a gazebo (I love gazebos!) overlooking a small part of the city to sit in and just
spend some quiet time. It was pretty early but the town was already beginning
to bustle preparing for Church. I began to listen to what was happening around
me. Over top of the birds, cars, music, and conversations I heard children
singing, playing, and laughing. I couldn’t see these children but their sounds
brought me such joy. I could not help myself from smiling. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
On several occasions, we have
ventured outside of the Norwegian compound we call home for the next three
weeks. The moment we step outside of the gate of our comfortable home we
become, vaza. Foreigner. Everyone seems to stop and look at us. You can feel
the conversations begin to rise among the Malagasy people. The children
sometimes call out, vaza, vaza! And then, more often times than not they smile
and giggle. As uncomfortable as all the attention might be I look at the
children and smile back at them. Their reactions to my smile vary and sometimes
make me laugh too. So then, without any words, we laugh and smile together. A smile
doesn’t disappear within seconds so as I continue down the street I make eye
contact with a shopkeeper or someone passing by and smile. Do you know what
happens? Despite all our differences, the lack of language, and the
uncomfortable feeling I’m sure we both have…they smile too. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The pure joy a smile and laughter
can bring is powerful. I already know that I am going to continually use a
smile and laughter throughout my whole year. So smile, wherever you may find
yourself. It is universal and crosses all cultural barriers. Besides, who doesn’t
love to smile? :) </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-52534264379972640782013-07-25T03:46:00.000-07:002013-07-25T03:46:07.604-07:00I Will Go, Lord Send Me <div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During staff meeting on Tuesday I was asked if I </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">finally</i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> knew where I would be living and what I would be doing in Madagascar. Again, like many times before this moment my answer was, "no". I promised soon as those around me were growing just as impatient as I was for my placement. We continued with our staff huddle (it is basically a small group Bible study) about listening to God's voice and what gets in our way to do that. I can't remember the context that the story of God calling Abram out of his homeland came up but it did and it was my kairos moment for the day! Here is where I am referencing, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Genesis 12:1-4 </span></b></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The Lord has said to Abram, "Go from your county, your people and your father's household to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you." So Abram went, as the Lord had told him...</span></blockquote>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God told Abram to leave his country, his people, his father's house and God would show him new land. Think about that. God asked Abram to leave everything he knew to go to where? A land God would show him. Abram didn't even get to know where he was going! Yet, in verse 4 it says, "So Abram went, as the Lord had told him." Abram followed God's command, packed up his family, and started moving. That is such an incredible act of faith and obedience. Abram didn't know where he was going, what amenities would be provided, where he and his family would make a new home but without any hesitation he listened to God's call. Abram had confidence in God. What I want to know is where did the confidence come from? The Bible doesn't tell us that Abram and his family were followers of God. There is nothing that supports they knew and worshipped the true God. That being said, wow! Abram barely had a relationship with God yet he still listened to His call, all that he is promised by God and goes as he is told. Incredible. </span></div>
<div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After processing through all of that I felt convicted. I so desperately want to know exactly where God is calling me to be in Madagascar. I want to know all the details of what I will be doing and where I will be staying. I never paused to think that maybe I should just trust God and not have such a desire to know all the details. I know I have been called to go but it is if I am saying, "I'll go Lord...but I need a detailed itinerary before I will actually move my feet". I yearn for the same confidence in God that Abram had to just be obedient and do what God asked without any hesitation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right when I became comfortable and at peace with trusting God and following where he led, the long awaited email came with my placement! It is as if God was waiting for me to fully trust him before he would reveal his plan. God's perfect timing is great. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will be serving in Fianarantsoa, Madagascar. </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fianarantsoa means "place of good learning". Fianarantsoa is the 4th largest city in Madagascar! Honestly, I am still in the research phase so I do not know a whole lot about the city but I will continue to learn more each day. Feel free to do your own research too! </span></div>
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8b/MG-Fianarantsoa.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="File:MG-Fianarantsoa.png" border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8b/MG-Fianarantsoa.png" width="161" /></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My responsibilities while I am in Fianarantsoa will take shape when I arrive but I have a general idea of where I will be working. I will be teaching English, working with SALT Seminary, a school for deaf children, and a women's center for young Malagasy women. I will be living with a family at the women's center. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cannot even begin to contain my excitement for all of this! Thank you for taking this journey with me. I couldn't do this without your prayers, love and support! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 2011, I worked at Rainbow Trail Lutheran Camp with a great friend, Laza, who is from Madagascar. I shared with him that I will be living in Fianarantsoa and found out that this is where he grew up! Although he no longer lives there, his sister does, and he plans to visit while I am there! I am looking forward to seeing him again! As we were talking this morning he reminded me that I had promised to at some point to come to Madagascar and visit. I must admit, it was a bit of an empty promise at the time. However, I'd venture to guess God smiled when I said that knowing two years later the promise would be fulfilled. God is Good!</span></div>
Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-62175829830548158692013-05-03T10:58:00.000-07:002013-05-03T10:58:18.094-07:00I Want the Boldness of a Jr High Student Last weekend I had the fabulous opportunity to spend time with 25 Jr. High students and some awesome leaders! We organized a 30 Hour Famine. The goal is to raise money and awareness for world hunger but most of all be part of something bigger than ourselves. We didn't eat for 30 hours, we slept outside in boxes, we volunteered within a neighborhood we adopted, organized Bingo at a nursing home, and took time to do Bible studies and reflect. It was a busy weekend!<br />
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We challenged the students to each raise $30 and set our overall goal to $500. I was skeptical. To be honest, I did not believe we would reach $500 but when you put God to the test he delivers! I was amazed to see the student's passion for the hungry all over the world and their ability to raise over $2,500. I think we might be closer to $3,000 now because the money keeps coming in! God is good! The money the students raised is incredible but the transformation made over the weekend is even better.<br />
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There were many powerful moments throughout the weekend but the biggest for me was in North Omaha. Our Church has adopted a block in a neighborhood in North O. For those of you not from Omaha, North Omaha is not the best part of town. There is a lot of crime, drug deals, and transition that happens in North O. Abide Ministries, Bridge Church, and Thanksgiving Lutheran Church have been working together to build relationships on our block and provide love and stability. We brought cookies with us and were given flyers about a clean up weekend as well as an invitation to a local Church. The students were asked to go knock on the doors greet the home owners, tell them about the clean up weekend, invite them to Church, and then ask if there was anything they could pray about for them. If they had any request we prayed right there with them.<br />
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The first couple of houses you could tell the students were a little hesitant but they got through the whole list of things to say. Then it got the moment of asking if they could pray for the person. Every person we talked to was open enough to let us pray for them. Some asked us to pray for their families, themselves, their safety, their community, and other various things. Each of the students who prayed, prayed with such boldness, courage, strength, and compassion. It literally brought me to tears every time. I am so proud of each of every one of them. They get it and they aren't afraid to share it!<br />
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I don't remember having an opportunity like this at that age so I thought about Jr High aged Molly...would I have been as bold? Would I have asked to pray or just casually forget to mention prayer? I know I would have been nervous. What would the person think of me? What would my peers think of me? All this is in the context of a 13 year old me but the reality is I still face these questions today. It is easy to shout from the mountain tops about my love for God among believers. Yet I find in certain situations I am hesitant to proclaim that same love with others who may or may not know Jesus.<br />
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As I reflect on my feelings I start to think I'm crazy. I'm hesitant to share my faith with everyone yet I am going to go to Madagascar to do just that. I want the boldness of Jr High student. My prayer is to have the courage and the strength to be fearless in sharing my God, my faith, and my story within the community I will join. I am blessed to have these Jr High students in my life as they have taught me more than I ever could have imagined. I have watched them grow and develop their faith as they have helped me do the same. Service is such a beautiful thing that way. It must be why I love serving so much.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The leaders struggled the most with our box home...</td></tr>
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<br />Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5001109382954760382.post-63451104825913327482013-04-24T14:46:00.004-07:002013-04-24T14:46:57.596-07:00A New Journey BeginsI was so excited to write this blog and now that I've sat down to start I am overwhelmed! I am blessed to be part of a program called Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGM) through the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). There are eight countries that YAGM sends young adults to serve in for a years time. This past weekend I met 65 other YAGMs in Williams Bay, WI for a time of discernment, interview, and placement.<br />
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The weekend had an interesting start for most of us with nearly every flight to Chicago cancelled at least once. My 7:05 AM flight to Chicago was cancelled as I was waiting to check in at 5:45 AM. Instantly, I called the appropriate people with YAGM and decided to reroute to Milwaukee via Minneapolis. By the time this was all figured out, I had to run through the Omaha airport (soooo huge!), rush through security, and just barely make it on to my flight. While waiting for the instructions to turn off all electronic devices I texted everyone who needed to know I made it on the flight and my dear friend, Jess. Jess lives in Minneapolis and I wanted to let her know that even if we could not see each other we would be "close". As soon as we landed I turned on my phone to see several messages from Jess telling me to call her and not get on my next flight. It turns out Jess worked her magic while I was in the air and arranged for me to ride with Jenna B, her friend, classmate, and future YAGM. After arguing with Delta about not getting on my next flight I left the airport and was greeted by Jess. What a wonderful start to my weekend! Jenna B came to pick me up from Jess's apartment and we were off. We started as strangers but after a five hour drive it was like we have been best friends for years.<br />
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I continued to meet wonderful people all throughout the weekend. It is beautiful to be in a room full of 65 young adults who desire to make a difference in the world. We aren't going to just sit in that room and talk about it...we are going to go out and do something! Sure, we will not change the world in a year but we will make a difference. Even if the difference is just within ourselves. Heidi, the program director, often said, "We are going to mess you up this next year so you can come back and mess with the Church". Take that as your warning. This next year I'm going to get messed up. I am so ready to embrace it.<br />
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I will spend the next year in Madagascar, Africa with six other YAGMs and two amazing country coordinators. If you are like everyone I have told so far I am sure you have questions. In the coming months and year I will work to answer all of those. For now, we all need some time to process.<br />
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I cannot wait to spend this year with the YAGM community, the Madagascar community, and the community I will leave back in the States. Thank you for your support! You'll hear more from me soon as this new journey begins.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Jess and I outside her apartment in Minneapolis. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">The outstanding community of young adults otherwise known as YAGM 2013-2014!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10043643906815365871noreply@blogger.com0