The ripe age of 24.

January 16th. My day of birth. I mean...I think it makes most sense that mother should celebrate this day, get a cake and receive crazy gifts...after all shes the one who brought me into this world and without her January 16th would be really insignificant. But none the less I celebrate it every year like its my job and as if I had anything to do with this day at all.

This year was no different. Chronilogical birthday festivites, go:

The Friday before my birthday the teachers bought me and another fellow teacher and roommate whose birthday is the 18th (the one and only Tara Beth) a real fancy cake. They sang a variety of birthday songs and then procceeded to decorate our faces and forehead with icing.

On Saturday we went to San Pedro Sula and ate at Appleebees where I received an outstanding cheesecake and they played a happy birthday song over the loud speakers that sounded like a slow, light rock 80's love ballad. The kind of ballad you don't really know what to do with but sway until its over.

The Tuesday after my birthday my kids surprised me with a small birthday party during their Spanish class. It turned into an excuse to smear cake in my face and on their classmates but I didn't care because this made day 3 of birthday festivities. At the end of class we watched a video that one of my 5th grade girls had made me for my birthday. I couldn't believe it. Totally unexpected and unbelievably perfect.

Bring it on adolescence

Don't get me wrong. My students are precious. Overwhemlingly so. On the regular I am a sucker for their sweet little faces, big brown eyes and the way that charming Spanish accent makes its way into each English sentence. However. Their are dark days in the 5th grade classroom where roaring, out of nowhere pre-teen attidues prevail. Due to the Honduran education system and when students enter the first year of school the majority of my students are 11 and 12 years old. The years in which we are grateful for our survival, we'd like to erase them from our memory and we hope our parents never bring them up. The years where we heard comments like "Some day I hope you have a child and they are just like you". Yes, they are there and regardless of the culture hormones are still raging and attitudes are ever present. There are days when simply changing subjects yields unbelievable groaning and sighing. You know the kinds that makes your head fly backward and your shoulders go in at the same time? There are days where I end on an intense speech/pep talk about respect, behavior and gratidude and I give them "tomorrow better be a different day" eyes and everyone leaves in absolute silence.

There are days when I go home thinking "How are we ever going to recover from this day." I feel crushingly inadaquate. I replay the day over and over in my head and I feel defeated. Then morning comes and I dread it. I feel emotionally drained and I think for sure these children hate me at best. I wait for them at school and when the first bus arrives I brace myself for the possible awkward silence as they pass me and shoot me the unbearable "5th grade stare". But it never happens. Ever. Not once. They get out of the bus and come barreling up the side walk. Then follows hugs and high fives and 15 "Good morning teacher or good morning Ms. Hartsoe".

Last Friday followed one of those dark Thursdays. It was the day before my dads birthday and we were suppose to record his birthday video but that morning all I could think about was the previous day and how it had been tucked away in the category of "Days We Wont Speak of Again". I wondered how the morning would go. I'm standing at my door waiting for the bell to ring and one of my students, Nasry aka the drum prodigy, comes up to me and hands me a little box that is wrapped with a bow and a gift tag. The tag reads: To Ms. Hartsoe From Nasry. I ask him what this is for and he proceededs to tell me that because tomorrow is my dad's birthday and I couldn't be with him he wanted to bring me a gift. I opened it and inside was a white watch. He said he chose a watch because I always ask the time. Um... I'm sorry did you just bring ME a gift for my dads birthday? Did we not just have the day of all days yesterday in the 5th grade classroom? Do you not know how inadequate I am to be teaching you? Clearly not. Or maybe he does notice but chooses to declare our bad days as irrelevant. Their love is so unconditional, so genuine and I have much to learn from their 5th grade hearts.

My mercies are new for them each morning and theres for me. We have terrific days and we have difficult days but everyday I am reminded "there are no great things only small things with great love".

An ode to the greatest man I know.

I've watched him for years. In everything I've done, every decision I've made I've thought about him. How would he handle things? What would he say? I've seen him handle tough times and difficult people with imposing patience and wisdom. (And I don't mean the time he taught me to drive a stick shift, although those were the toughest of times). For years I've watched him put his family first, always. I've watched him love his children unconditionally and though we tried him over and over he never failed to show us undeserving grace. I've watched him seek a loving Father and pursue Him relentlessly and trust with a steadfast perseverence that He is good and will provide. In all these years of watching him I've learned so much and one thing is certain: I am undeservingly blessed to call him dad.

Dad, thank you so much for your endless encouragement, for showing me what it looks like to love people and for believing in this mission regardless the cost.

You are in my heart everyday and I love you more than life.

Happy 50th birthday!! I still think you look strapping and not a day over 20.

Your birthday's been on the board in my classroom all week. We had a party today and we celebrated 3 birthdays. Yours was one of them.

I love a good list.

So here are a few highlights from the past ten days in an organized list for no other reason than I love a good list.

1. I teared up twice on Friday during the parade because I was so proud of my little ninos and all their hard work. I also successfully managed to walk backwards 2 miles through Pena Blanca all while keeping 18, 4th and 5th graders in 3 straight lines. I was slightly proud of myself as well.

2. We started Chapter 3 in science this week and when my students noticed we went from chapter 1 to chapter 3 they were beside themselves and wanted to know why we skipped the chapter on Primates. One of my students looked really angry like he felt deprived of substantial knowledge. I walked to the front of the room, put my book down and with every effort not to laugh I told them in my most deliberate voice that monkeys are silly and pointless and I couldn't bring myself to teach 52 pages on their eating and grooming habits therefore we would not be covering this chapter. That was the most confused they looked all year. "What has she done?? Skipping whole chapters in the book?"

3. On Saturday I walked into a Latin American beauty shoppe and hoped for the best. I never once doubted their ability, I only doubted the ability of my spanish to articulate just what I wanted. All my Spanish allowed me was, "My ends are bad. I need a hair cut. Just a little. Wash it please." I wasn't sure what would come of this but 3 Celine Dion songs (and several other light rock favorites from the 90's) later my hair was washed, cut and styled and I had made a new friend. :) Mission: success.

4. My male students have a game they like to play with me and their female classmates to see how loud they can make us scream by camoflouging various insects, large insects, among our school supplies. The other day I walked in after the bell and when I got to my desk, sitting between the books was the biggest beetle I have ever seen. After I screamed and knocked everything in the floor, I went on a rant and declared that if "Anyone in the 5th grade classroom finds a bug and puts it anywhere other than outside they are going to be suspended for a day!! Are we clear??!!" I don't think they even know what suspeneded means, and I'm pretty sure I don't have that kind of power but regardless they were afraid. Point made.

5. Since Honduras doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving they have been ready for Christmas, decorations up, since the first week of November. ( A country after my own heart.) This past week the teachers had a work day in which we came in and decorated our doors and classrooms for the Holiday season. I have an official Christmas countdown on my door and the other day during art my students made stockings to hang on our classroom fireplace. Last week we had testing for the first period of school and I played instrumental Christmas music during each exam. It truly is a dream. There will be a screening of The Christmas Shoes in t-minus 20 days.

Ok so maybe these aren't the most important highlights of the week but they were the most entertaining and my favorite. :)

A Peculiar People.....

" The cross is not a detour or a hurdle on the way to the Kingdom, nor is it even the way to the Kingdom; it is the Kingdom come.... Love died on that imperial cross. But then something beautiful happened that we shouldn't overlook; the veil of the temple was ripped in half. (Luke 23:45)...We are left with the unmistakable image that God tore open the temple to set all sacred things free. And this was something Jesus did His whole life. The tearing of the temple's veil was a sign of where things were going with Jesus: the new temple would be the people who lived in faith, hope and love. Its a fullfillment of when Solomon built the temple but God turned the tables, in effect saying; 'I'll make you into a living temple'. Crucified in humility and full of enemy love, considered a good for nothing slave and an insurgent, Jesus shows us what true greatness looks like. Then came the invitation. Jesus appeared to His disciples and gave them a great mission. Follow Him. Drink of His cup. Become the body of Christ to teach the world how to love. And they were to make disciples. They were to teach the nations a new way of living. One by one the disciples would infect that nations with grace. It wasn't a call to take the sword or the throne and force the world to bow. Rather, they were to live the contagious love of God, to woo the Nations into a new future. "Nations" didn't mean states or government; it meant all the world's peoples regardless of region, tribe, or clan. The covenant of God was open not just to Jews but to all the Gentile world. Just like Abraham and Sarah starting a new family, these early disciples would soon become known as the new humanity, a people called out of the nations, or all different ethnicities, but with one thing in a common: they were children of God, born again in a dysfunctional world where they were to become the change they wanted to see. It was a call to become a new family, a people born not of flesh but of Spirir, a global sisterhood and brotherhood that ran deeper than nationality or biology. They were to be born again. Making disciples meant they were teaching the world to do the things Jesus did. To wash feet. To proclaim jubilee. To love enemies. To welcome strangers...Their community was more than just a group of people who shared religious beliefs. They were a group of people that embodied a new way of living, the way out of the empire where slavery, poverty, war and oppression were normal. They were to become the salt and light of the world. The credibility of their gospel would rest on the integrity of their lives. For they were now to be the body of Christ. Jesus would live in them. But it would not be easy to make disciples of the nations. After all, the nations were also trying to make disciples of them. ."

-Jesus For President by Shane Claiborne

Just trying to build my resume....

I'm sure somewhere in the unwritten but clearly understood blogger's manual there's an entire section on the Do Not's of posting 2 blogs in the same day. I'm already a miserable blogger, so this just adds to my reputation.

This post needs its own air time because its that important. This Friday is the 3rd anniversary of Lake Yojoa Bilingual School and to honor this occasion the entire school, kindergarten through 5th grade, will march through the streets of Honduras in a celebratory parade. Each grade must decide on something special to do and perform as we march and stop throughout Pena Blanca. Before I could spin my creative wheels and decide what 5th grade would do I was told that since we are the oldest grade it had been arranged for us to play instruments. Cool....bring it on. But by instruments they meant we would form a 2o person drum line along with the 4th grade and I would be dubbed their fearless marching band leader. Rented drums of all sizes from the city...check. Marching band participants....check. Marching band leader......check. And just like that we have ourselves a band.

Now just so we all understand each other....I have never, ever, not a day in my life played a musical instrument. The only drum line song I know is the Boiling Springs High School fight song and the beat in Litte Drummer Boy. Luckily we have a drumline prodigy in the 5th graded who taught everyone 3 beats; which means my job only consists of blowing the whistle, keeping formation, keeping tempo....and walking backwards??

Theres talk of a possible outfit which may include a cape. One could only hope.

Simplicity

Remember that time the sun had set on the months of September and October and I had not written one blog?? Confirmed: I am a miserable blogger.

This is inpart because more often than not I find it impossible to confine the things that happen in Honduras to a blog post. I feel guilty that I'm not doing it justice, that my words are miserable at describing these people and the home we are sharing with them. Theres also a reoccuring thought which plagues my mind that says in order for something to be "blog worthy" it must be a triumphant occasion. I can say this about the months of September and October: they have been simple. Simplicity at its finest. The things that are happening here are small ripples. They are subtle. Small conversations in town , at school, on public transportation. Sharing meals together, and talking over these shared meals. Laughing together, crying together. Buying baby gifts for newly expecting mothers and attending their baby showers. Eating Sunday dinner every week with a group of young people from the childrens home. Laughing with them over our struggling Spanish. Talking about the Lord and how His message applies to this younger generation. Praying with parents for their struggling students. Just listening to our kids as they share their hearts and the things that grip them even to the thoughts of suicide. Carrying their burdens, hurting for them, encouraging them. Mother Theresea once said about her work in Calcutta that, "There are no great things, just small things with great love". That sums up the months of September and October. We aren't here doing great things, 0nly small things with a lot of love; a love that is overflowing from a Savior who is alive and pursuing His people. Jesus is at the center of everything we do. He is the life source. As believers the Spirit of the Living God lives in us but we are merely vessels for His love. This is the message of the Gospel. It is a way of life.

Continue praying for these people and this year. Nothing is more needful at this present hour than prayer, under the direction of the Holy Spirit. We must make time that is set aside for the Father and place ourselves at the disposal of the Spirit through prayer. We should rejoice in this, for it is a sacred task. We serve a Savior who hears our cries and intercedes for us.