lifewithomg

I’m officially one week away from completing Level 3. Finals week is next week and not gonna lie, I’m cutting it a little close with my grades. The content is understandable, but the terminology is so similar that it’s hard to solidify the terms in my head. Granted, I was not confident with my finals last level because I was so sick and didn’t study as much as I would’ve normally. Not to sound dramatic, but I started telling people that I could just give up now, move to my parent’s basement, adopt some cats and stay single forever. Then, I learned that I received a 96% on my final, so I decided to stay. But, every day I’ve realized my English is getting worserer and worserer. (I think that joke is hilarious, but my mother says I shouldn’t say it.)

My tortilla count is at 367. For those keeping up with my bici Honey, she’s doing okay. The basket is one bad thunderstorm away from completely falling apart, but she still rides like the wind. She’s officially the second best bike in town thanks to my classmate, but I still love her the same. I’ve had a couple solos at church and it has been a nice change of pace stepping out of my comfort zone. I decided to take a break from social media these last few months to really focus on being present in town. Overall, I know this was the best decision for me and part of me wishes I had done it sooner. On the other hand, not keeping up with my people back home virtually has been one of the biggest challenges being here. Social media has many, many flaws, but I really try to focus on the community aspect and man oh man do I miss them so.

Creepy Crawlers, Critters, & Unwanted Mascotas

A few days ago, I was walking down the road with my bike and a hot apple pie I’d just purchased for Thanksgiving, when I heard a rustling in the bushes. It’s midday and the sun was blazing extra fierce, so I already wasn’t really in the mood. This wasn’t my first time experiencing this moment of unknown panic, so I braced myself for what was about to attack me and out jumps…. a squirrel. I immediately stopped in my tracks and admired it because frankly, I haven’t seen a squirrel in weeks. So yeah, it really is the little things that count.

I went to a Thai food restaurant last month and it was one of those concepts where you sit on pillows and the tables are only a couple feet off the ground. We walked up and there was a cat chilling on the throw pillows. A bit later, on I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turn around to see a stray dog staring at me like he was hurt I didn’t invite him to join us.

Last week, my teacher caught a baby boa snake that was literally chilling under her dining room table. She caught it and brought it to school the next day. Why?! A few days later, a classmate of mine said he found a scorpion in his Bible. I told him that the Word is his weapon and he better kill that sucker with the Good Book. These are the moments when I wish Dorothy’s ruby red shoes really could bring you home with three heel clicks.

Something I’ve intentionally failed to mention are the many mascotas (pets) we have at our house. A HUGE German Shepherd who likes to escape and kill the neighborhood goats, a forever yapping Chihuahua with a broken foot who recently gave birth to three puppies (RIP to Taco), a chicken, a couple chicks, Benson (RIP), Remi & his family, and Albert. Yes, I live with the Brady Bunch.

I don’t mention this often because it genuinely offends some, but I’m not a dog person at all. I tolerate the ones I’m co-exisiting with. However, Benson, Remi + his crew, and Albert are not dogs and they have GOT. TO. GO. I may try to live my life like a Disney movie, but it is certainly not Ratatouille.

Mi Iglesia

Have I told you I love my church here? To compare my life back home to the life I have here would just be silly. There’s a significant difference between small churches and mega churches. If I haven’t managed to find a free place to stay in the city for the weekend, I’ve learned that it’s cheaper to just suck it up and make the long commute. My alarm starts blaring at 5:30am and I’m out the door by 6:40am, because the worship team is required to be at the church by 7:30am. Now church starts at 10am, so we don’t have a ton of time. Every week, we unload the equipment from the storage facility, set everything up, the musicians go over the cords, and then we practice the songs. But, no two weeks are the same. The church is going through a slow, but steady, remodeling process. That being said, the stage is covered with red dirt. So we lay down rugs and keep it pushing. One week we arrived to find literal tree limbs covering the stage, a machete attached to a tree branch and a chainsaw hanging from said tree, attached to rope, hovering over the stage. No pasa nada. I think it’s random, but I don’t ask. I just grab a rake like everyone else and start grabbing twigs in my best Sunday outfit. Turns out they were uprooting the nearby trees to finish the roof above the stage. Now we’re not being baked by the sun when we sing. Let the church say “amen”!

Next up is the stage. All the men have been staying after service and building the stage out of cement, section by section. I was highly offended because I have experience with cement (Remember, Chicks Building Bricks, Inc.?) and was flabbergasted that I wasn’t asked to participate. After all, I should be well known by now! I’ve made white bricks on three separate occasions! If that’s not a bomb resume, I don’t know what else they want from me. I approached my pastor about it last week and he said I could join that day, but oh darn, I wasn’t properly dressed. I know, what a bummer!

I do a lot of standing around trying to translate what everyone is saying. I just hope they don’t think I’m shy. This morning right before service started, we were getting into position and the others singers told me to scoot down, then up, then to the side, and somehow I landed front and center stage. I don’t know what’s really happening, the host is giving the opening welcome scripture, but I can’t understand what she’s saying because my feet are literally burning. I look down and see several tiny black ants CRAWLING on my feet. I’m trying not to freak out and be a big girl as I semi-graciously try stomping on them. But it only gets worse and worse. Of course, the Spanish word for ants is one of the many words that I get mixed up for something completely different or a word I’ve made up and now can’t get out of my head, so I can’t ask for help. After appropriately freaking out for a solid minute (because just before that, there was a spiky caterpillar on my dress that I needed assistance removing and will inevitably have bad dreams about.. just kidding, sort of), I managed to kill the small suckers. I was so confused and felt betrayed. I thought maybe it was because my one pair of good, stage/church appropriate shoes–that being some thin good-for-nothing highlighter pink flip flops–were actually not good protective footwear. Couldn’t be that! After church, I asked the guitar player if they were finishing the stage this week and he said no, because of the ants. Then he proceeded to lift up the carpet on the half completed stage and pointed to a literal GOLD MINE OF ANTS. HUNDREDS. THOUSANDS. PROBABLY MILLIONS. I DON’T KNOW. ALL CRAWLING ON TOP OF EACH OTHER. I hope this makes your skin crawl because I WAS STANDING ON A NEST OF ANTS THE WHOLE TIME DURING OUR 40 MINUTE WORSHIP SET. Apparently he saw the whole thing go down and had a very good chuckle. If I don’t get superpowers out of this, I’ll be disappointed.

I don’t want to say I’m a super volunteer, but my church (and my profession) trained me for such a time as this. It’s a bit of a struggle because I was trained to get the job done, so that’s what I do. But here, the culture with women is different. It’s out of character for two women to want to learn how to build bricks. It’s not common for women to willingly want to lift the heavy stuff. I’m surrounded by good men who practice the art of being a gentleman. I have learned to hold my tongue in more than one instance though. One time, I tried convincing a man that he could give me more than four lawn chairs to carry. (Seriously, I can carry them with one hand. They’re not heavy at all.) But he refused. I finally have convinced my pastor that I can carry the speakers and drum set on my own without a struggle. I take pride in my strength, but was quickly humbled being here. I was raised to be independent, but I was also raised to respect when a man is trying to show his respect by carrying the heavier things in life. I’m not saying this has never happened in the States, but I’ve never experienced it to this extent, especially in my generation and those younger than I. Sometimes I still try to sneak the heavier things when no one’s looking because frankly, I need the challenge. Am I hard headed? Maybe. But Jesus still loves me.

At times, my brain feels like noodles.

There’s so much more to say, but I know I can be long winded at times and ultimately, I’ll never truly fit it all in a newsletter anyways. A lot has happened since my last update, but at times it’s hard to put into words exactly what I’m experiencing. At the moment, a lot has been happening internally and that’s been a little scary. I’ve mentioned in the past that it’s been hard adjusting to so many people coming and going over the last few months and lately I’ve really had to work on being comfortable with myself. My friend warned me that when she studied abroad for a Summer, her insecurities didn’t wait for her back home. Our flaws will always follow us and no matter how hard you try to ignore them, they will always be brought to light in the most unpleasant ways. But praise God for people who are smarter and wiser than me! It has taken some time, but I’ve found a group of individuals that I can trust, be open with, and be myself around. They unapologetically care and challenge me. The best part? They push me closer to the One that has always been there for me, even when I don’t reciprocate those same feelings through my actions.

I am beyond excited to see my people for the holidays in the States. I am beyond excited that it is not time to say goodbye to my people here in Mexico. I am beyond excited to come back to Oaxaca in January and complete all that the Lord is calling me to do.

Nos vemos en una semana, mi familia.

OMG