A Chinese woman noticed the English Bible in Mike's hand.
She pointed to it and, with a huge smile on her face, pulled her Chinese Bible out of her purse. Mike smiled back, and the exchange ended. At least as far as I could see from my seat across the over-crowded public bus.
The bus only got hotter and more crowded as we approached our destination: a Chinese church meeting at a chicken plant because they spent thirty years fighting the government to regain their land that was seized.*
Our team and several Chinese people got off at the stop at the church's gate. This woman was thrilled!
She grabbed Juanita by the arm, looked directly in her eyes, and began to ramble in Chinese. Juanita didn't understand a word of it, but she understood this woman's joy.
The woman kept trying different phrases, willing Juanita to understand.
"Hallelujah," the Chinese woman said. Juanita understood.
"Hallelujah!"
It's not identical in both languages, but it's a cognate. The two sisters could not converse with words, but they could worship together.
What more does one need?
Hallelujah,
<>< Katie
Note: Words like "Amen" and "Jesus" are also cognates. That's about all we understood of the service.
* Though it is significantly smaller and more out of the way than the original land, the Chinese government has given the church land along with monetary contributions (to make up for the rest of the acreage) and a promise to assist in the placement of a bus stop near church property. This fall, they hope to break ground to complete the 1,500-seat building by Christmas 2012. The pastor of this church rotates between it and at least ten other local churches.
Showing posts with label bus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bus. Show all posts
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Futbol Confusion
This is an old note I wrote after attending a US vs. Costa Rica soccer game in Costa Rica. It was scarier than going to a Flyers game in Philly. But we all lived to tell the tale.
<>< Katie
I went to a football game today. Except there was no pig skin. No quarterback. The players actually used their feet. I was shocked!
On the way to the game we saw a brawl. Everyone on the bus was yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And when the two men fell, I screamed, "Let's see some blood on that ice!"
On the street outside the stadium, the bus of American soccer players was warmly welcomed by police on horseback and one-finger waves from the crowd.
When we arrived at the game, we had a pat-down search where they confiscated cosas commencing with the letter "C": cameras, cell phones, chap-stick, and coins. I found this behavior quite strange.
I was surprised they hadn't closed the roof due to the impending rain, but the rain held off and the roof remained open.
Our seats were prefect to watch the players fly and see the quaffle at all times. Although we were definitely within hitting range from the bludgers. Who are those little insects down there walking along the grass?
We sang two national anthems. When the second started, I smiled and said, "Oh, Canada" before searching in vain to find their flag.
The game began, and the ball was kicked high into the air. "Get up! Get up! Get outta here! Gone!" As it rose, I yelled, "Fore!" for safety. Once it hit the net, I said, "Let!" When it went over, I knew there would be a five-minute major penalty for Delay of Game. Luckily, I had kept my eyes on it the whole time and was in no danger of being hit (by anything except those bloody bludgers). Eventually, the ball returned magically from the stands. That's not supposed to happen; it was your team that did it!
The ball was definitely touched more than three times. Once it crossed the entire court and the ref failed to call icing. Another time the player took it over-and-back, and my Fang Fingers were ready! During a tough call, I don't know why they didn't consult the experts in Toronto to review the play again. They didn't even take a TV time-out. The play clock continued while they exchanged yellow Christmas cards.
Shots on goal were few and far between. The goalie even ventured far from his net to retrieve the ball, but I screamed at him, "Get back in your net, Vokoun!" When the ball went in the gutter, I offered to give them a second serve, but I was benched. One man patted the top of his head, clearly needing to tie his shoe, but the play-clock never stopped. Although, the one and only intermission was cut short by five minutes.
In the last two minutes, we should have pulled our goalie. At the end, the red, white, and blue was victorious. After all, the lowest score wins, and they had three while we only had one!
I went to a football game today. I prefer to call it soccer, but either way I understand all of the rules.
<>< Katie
I went to a football game today. Except there was no pig skin. No quarterback. The players actually used their feet. I was shocked!
On the way to the game we saw a brawl. Everyone on the bus was yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And when the two men fell, I screamed, "Let's see some blood on that ice!"
On the street outside the stadium, the bus of American soccer players was warmly welcomed by police on horseback and one-finger waves from the crowd.
When we arrived at the game, we had a pat-down search where they confiscated cosas commencing with the letter "C": cameras, cell phones, chap-stick, and coins. I found this behavior quite strange.
I was surprised they hadn't closed the roof due to the impending rain, but the rain held off and the roof remained open.
Our seats were prefect to watch the players fly and see the quaffle at all times. Although we were definitely within hitting range from the bludgers. Who are those little insects down there walking along the grass?
We sang two national anthems. When the second started, I smiled and said, "Oh, Canada" before searching in vain to find their flag.
The game began, and the ball was kicked high into the air. "Get up! Get up! Get outta here! Gone!" As it rose, I yelled, "Fore!" for safety. Once it hit the net, I said, "Let!" When it went over, I knew there would be a five-minute major penalty for Delay of Game. Luckily, I had kept my eyes on it the whole time and was in no danger of being hit (by anything except those bloody bludgers). Eventually, the ball returned magically from the stands. That's not supposed to happen; it was your team that did it!
The ball was definitely touched more than three times. Once it crossed the entire court and the ref failed to call icing. Another time the player took it over-and-back, and my Fang Fingers were ready! During a tough call, I don't know why they didn't consult the experts in Toronto to review the play again. They didn't even take a TV time-out. The play clock continued while they exchanged yellow Christmas cards.
Shots on goal were few and far between. The goalie even ventured far from his net to retrieve the ball, but I screamed at him, "Get back in your net, Vokoun!" When the ball went in the gutter, I offered to give them a second serve, but I was benched. One man patted the top of his head, clearly needing to tie his shoe, but the play-clock never stopped. Although, the one and only intermission was cut short by five minutes.
In the last two minutes, we should have pulled our goalie. At the end, the red, white, and blue was victorious. After all, the lowest score wins, and they had three while we only had one!
I went to a football game today. I prefer to call it soccer, but either way I understand all of the rules.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
An Airport Adventure
Alexis said it would be no problem to pick me up at the airport. We were both headed back to school from a break and she drove past the airport on her way. I told her what time my flight was arriving, and, despite my not checking a bag, we planned to meet at baggage claim.
The plane landed safely and I texted her tell her I'd just landed. I'd be there shortly.
"You'll never guess what I just did." She texted back. I thought she'd forgotten me, honestly. Nope, better.
She'd arrived at the airport, parked the car, and came into baggage claim, our planned meeting place despite my not having any checked bags. She walked up to the monitor and searched for flights coming in from Philadelphia, a city she's visited. She then looked to the beginning of the alphabet for "Arizona." It wasn't listed. In a near-panic, she called home and told her mom my flight wasn't coming in. I'm so glad her mom assured her my flight was coming and told her to wait for it.
When Alexis explained this to me on the bus back to her car--the wrong bus, I might add--I looked at her and could not stifle my laughter.
"Alexis, my plane didn't come from the whole state of Arizona. It came from Phoenix. 'P-h-o' right next to the 'P-h-i' of Philadelphia."
So she's a bit airport challenged... but I love her anyway.
<>< Katie
PS: Happy birthday, Elizabeth.
The plane landed safely and I texted her tell her I'd just landed. I'd be there shortly.
"You'll never guess what I just did." She texted back. I thought she'd forgotten me, honestly. Nope, better.
She'd arrived at the airport, parked the car, and came into baggage claim, our planned meeting place despite my not having any checked bags. She walked up to the monitor and searched for flights coming in from Philadelphia, a city she's visited. She then looked to the beginning of the alphabet for "Arizona." It wasn't listed. In a near-panic, she called home and told her mom my flight wasn't coming in. I'm so glad her mom assured her my flight was coming and told her to wait for it.
When Alexis explained this to me on the bus back to her car--the wrong bus, I might add--I looked at her and could not stifle my laughter.
"Alexis, my plane didn't come from the whole state of Arizona. It came from Phoenix. 'P-h-o' right next to the 'P-h-i' of Philadelphia."
So she's a bit airport challenged... but I love her anyway.
<>< Katie
PS: Happy birthday, Elizabeth.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Bus Ride Prayer
On the long bus ride back from the ski trip, we took a Prayer Break where all distractions were put away. Or at least that was the intent. My distractions are often in my head (aka mentally writing), so eliminating those are hard but I really tried. No iPod, no cell phones, no movie, no talking; only talking to God.
I folded my hands but opted against closing my eyes. If I closed my eyes, I probably would have fallen asleep. Besides, who wants to close their eyes while riding through the beautiful mountains?
Katie: Hey, God, I absolutely love these mountains You've created. I'm willing to risk motion-sickness and take my eyes off the road to enjoy this beautiful creation You've made. Every tree perfectly formed and every mountain hump meticulously placed. The effort and precision amazes me!
God: You know, Katie, I put the same amount of effort and precision into creating you.
My prayer time could have been over right then and there. I was content; I was filled. But it wasn't. There was still eighteen minutes to go, and God had more things He wanted to teach me. He often teaches me through the things I see (another reason I didn't want to close my eyes).
We passed a sign that said, "Rest Area. No facilities."
I began to think to myself about how dumb that is: a rest area with no facilities. As we drew closer there was another sign stating it's a look-out point without facilities. Ok, beautiful but not practical.
We all, women especially, want to be considered beautiful. Most of us enjoy feeling pretty. In fact, sometimes when we're getting gussied up we don't pay attention to the practical. We're too concerned with "Does this look good" than "Will I be able to walk in these shoes?" We much rather have lovely long eye lashes than realize we can't see because mascara is making lines down our glasses every time we blink. I prayed that God make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Maybe He doesn't have fame and glory in my future. Maybe my blog will never have more than eleven readers. Maybe the words He's given me have a deep impact on those eleven readers and draw them closer to Him. Maybe that type of intimacy isn't available in a community with a larger reading audience. Maybe one day I'll be ok with that. I prayed that day would be soon. Make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Not five minutes later, the Garmin fell. Sitting in the front seat of the bus, I crawled forward, rescued it off the dash board, stuck it back together, and re-suctioned it to the windshield.
"Good in theory; poor in design," the bus driver said to me with a smile.
I am a firm believer that things should be designed by the people who are going to use them. College students should design dorm rooms. Teachers and students should design classrooms. Doctors and nurses should design hospitals. Bus drivers should design Garmins.
However, there is one exception to this rule. One time when the "thing" being used should not be designed by the user. Life. My life should not be designed by me, the liver (aka the person living it). Instead, I believe life should be designed by God. After all, the life we create is good in theory but poor in design. The life we make is beautiful but not practical.
Travel with me through the mountains of life and into this dangerous prayer:
Abba Father, make my life practical rather than beautiful. Wipe away my good theories and replace them with Your great designs. Let me be ok with it.
Let me know how I can pray for you and have a wonderful week!
<>< Katie
I folded my hands but opted against closing my eyes. If I closed my eyes, I probably would have fallen asleep. Besides, who wants to close their eyes while riding through the beautiful mountains?
Katie: Hey, God, I absolutely love these mountains You've created. I'm willing to risk motion-sickness and take my eyes off the road to enjoy this beautiful creation You've made. Every tree perfectly formed and every mountain hump meticulously placed. The effort and precision amazes me!
God: You know, Katie, I put the same amount of effort and precision into creating you.
My prayer time could have been over right then and there. I was content; I was filled. But it wasn't. There was still eighteen minutes to go, and God had more things He wanted to teach me. He often teaches me through the things I see (another reason I didn't want to close my eyes).
We passed a sign that said, "Rest Area. No facilities."
I began to think to myself about how dumb that is: a rest area with no facilities. As we drew closer there was another sign stating it's a look-out point without facilities. Ok, beautiful but not practical.
We all, women especially, want to be considered beautiful. Most of us enjoy feeling pretty. In fact, sometimes when we're getting gussied up we don't pay attention to the practical. We're too concerned with "Does this look good" than "Will I be able to walk in these shoes?" We much rather have lovely long eye lashes than realize we can't see because mascara is making lines down our glasses every time we blink. I prayed that God make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Maybe He doesn't have fame and glory in my future. Maybe my blog will never have more than eleven readers. Maybe the words He's given me have a deep impact on those eleven readers and draw them closer to Him. Maybe that type of intimacy isn't available in a community with a larger reading audience. Maybe one day I'll be ok with that. I prayed that day would be soon. Make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Not five minutes later, the Garmin fell. Sitting in the front seat of the bus, I crawled forward, rescued it off the dash board, stuck it back together, and re-suctioned it to the windshield.
"Good in theory; poor in design," the bus driver said to me with a smile.
I am a firm believer that things should be designed by the people who are going to use them. College students should design dorm rooms. Teachers and students should design classrooms. Doctors and nurses should design hospitals. Bus drivers should design Garmins.
However, there is one exception to this rule. One time when the "thing" being used should not be designed by the user. Life. My life should not be designed by me, the liver (aka the person living it). Instead, I believe life should be designed by God. After all, the life we create is good in theory but poor in design. The life we make is beautiful but not practical.
Travel with me through the mountains of life and into this dangerous prayer:
Abba Father, make my life practical rather than beautiful. Wipe away my good theories and replace them with Your great designs. Let me be ok with it.
Let me know how I can pray for you and have a wonderful week!
<>< Katie
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Crisis Averted
After almost a month of scrapbook, I'm getting close to finishing my Guatemala scrapbook. It's been wonderful to relive that week and reminisce about the silly stories, the God moments, and the tedious work.
One day, we went to Lago Atilan and took a boat ride to a market on the other side of the lake. The bus ride to the boat was about three hours and at one point we hit construction traffic so bad that our driver turned off the bus. The peddlers loved this as they swarmed our bus like bees on a piece of fruit. I can just imagine them saying to each other, "Look at that bus of rich American tourists! Let's go sell some stuff!" First of all, college students are not rich. Secondly, we wanted to buy our souvenirs at our final destination not on the road to the market.
Neal had a short list of items he wanted to take home to his kids, and he knew he wanted to get his son a slingshot. The peddlers had a cute slingshot with a man on the handle. Neal opted against passing up this opportunity and purchased a slingshot through the window.
Evan, one of our team members, had a sunhat he'd been wearing all week. Not very diligently, I might add, or he would not have been burnt to a crisp. Well, while we were on the boat, his hat blew off. We continued out journey leaving Evan's beloved hat in the distance. We teased about the Guatemalan kayaker who would enjoy Evan's hat and cherish it like a prized possession.
As we were about to disembark, our host warned us about an idol worshiped in Guatemala. Since we were indeed a Christian mission team, it would not be good for us to buy this idol but rather use that moment as a witnessing opportunity and scream "SOLO JESÚS CHRISTO" as we fled. :-)
"What does the idol look like so we don't buy it by mistake?"
"It's a man with a cigar and a sun hat," Neal explained.
"Sort of like Evan's that just blew away?"
"Yes! God took care of that one for us," Neal said with a smile.
"Hey, Neal," I asked, "what's the difference between this idol and the little man on the slingshot you bought for your son?"
Oops. The slingshot didn't actually have the idol on it but rather a similar knock-off, but either way Neal could not give this gift to his son.
Be careful what you buy and don't fret if you lose something, maybe God was just taking care of the situation for you.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
One day, we went to Lago Atilan and took a boat ride to a market on the other side of the lake. The bus ride to the boat was about three hours and at one point we hit construction traffic so bad that our driver turned off the bus. The peddlers loved this as they swarmed our bus like bees on a piece of fruit. I can just imagine them saying to each other, "Look at that bus of rich American tourists! Let's go sell some stuff!" First of all, college students are not rich. Secondly, we wanted to buy our souvenirs at our final destination not on the road to the market.
Neal had a short list of items he wanted to take home to his kids, and he knew he wanted to get his son a slingshot. The peddlers had a cute slingshot with a man on the handle. Neal opted against passing up this opportunity and purchased a slingshot through the window.
Evan, one of our team members, had a sunhat he'd been wearing all week. Not very diligently, I might add, or he would not have been burnt to a crisp. Well, while we were on the boat, his hat blew off. We continued out journey leaving Evan's beloved hat in the distance. We teased about the Guatemalan kayaker who would enjoy Evan's hat and cherish it like a prized possession.
As we were about to disembark, our host warned us about an idol worshiped in Guatemala. Since we were indeed a Christian mission team, it would not be good for us to buy this idol but rather use that moment as a witnessing opportunity and scream "SOLO JESÚS CHRISTO" as we fled. :-)
"What does the idol look like so we don't buy it by mistake?"
"It's a man with a cigar and a sun hat," Neal explained.
"Sort of like Evan's that just blew away?"
"Yes! God took care of that one for us," Neal said with a smile.
"Hey, Neal," I asked, "what's the difference between this idol and the little man on the slingshot you bought for your son?"
Oops. The slingshot didn't actually have the idol on it but rather a similar knock-off, but either way Neal could not give this gift to his son.
Be careful what you buy and don't fret if you lose something, maybe God was just taking care of the situation for you.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)