I took a short break from blogging during this Christmas season. Spending Christmas in another setting is a fairly unique experience, so I've been trying to take it all in. Christmas Eve was the big time to celebrate, and it included a late night dinner (11:30ish), fireworks, presents, and hugs all around. It felt like Christmas and New Year's Eve combined. As it turns out, my family has always celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, so it felt pretty natural to do presents and stay up late. And hugs all around, who can complain about that?

Other than that, I don't have much to say about daily life. I'm back to work, and it's just one day at a time.

So, I thought I'd ease back into blogging with a semi-random, half-applicable thought about the micros in Santa Cruz. First of all, a smooth entry and exit on the bus always makes me feel petty good, like I'm more integrated and adjusted. Of course, the other day I tried to hop onto a slowly moving micro, and I didn't quite get high enough, slammed my knee onto the step, sprained my ankle pretty badly, let out a cry of pain, and then tried to hobble onto the bus as if I were Bolivian. I don't think the people on the bus bought it; luckily there were only three of them.

However, it's getting off the bus smoothly that's really an art. At first thought, you'd think that if all you have to do is tell the bus driver to stop, it shouldn't be hard to get him to stop where you want. And certainly, you always end up relatively close. But I like to get off just at the right point, or at least within a few yards of it. A lot of times, this is at an intersection, and the micros tend to stop there; but, other areas are more wide open, and it's not as easy. Also, from the time you tell the driver to stop to the time he actually stops varies depending on how much of a hurry he is in, what the traffic is like, etc. First obstacle: deciding exactly when to tell the driver to stop.

Now, if I'm on a crowded bus, I'm not very aggressive with taking a seat. Which means I slowly end up working my way to the back before a seat opens up, and I'm the obvious taker. So when it comes time to get off the micro, I'm at the very back of a crowed bus. Second obstacle: judging how long it will take to get to the front of the bus.

Now, this may seem hard for you to believe, but the micros here were not made for people as tall as I am. The height varies (on some I can stand up completely, and others I have to bend over), but no matter what, once I stand up, I can't see out the windows. So, third obstacle: keeping track of where the bus is as I make my way to the front.

So, I'm shoving my way through a crowded bus of people, bending over every now and then, watching my landmark, hoping I get the timing just right so I can say "Pare, por favor" just as I get to the front and jump off the bus right in front of the beauty shop. Sometimes it works, sometimes I end up a half-block down the road.

Here's my little (maybe somewhat far fetched) application: there are things about other people or groups or cultures that seem easy to handle or understand at first. They fit neatly into our worldview - our preconcieved notions, stereotypes, or prejudices. However, after digging a little deeper, you find that it's actually more complicated than you first thought. Even when people seem to fit into your stereotypes, it's hard but important to suspend putting them into those boxes, because you might miss out on the deeper things altogether.

Today was the last Sunday for a couple of girls who were doing a year of service here in Bolivia. On Saturday they will be returning to their respective countries (El Salvador and Guatemala), so we had some farewell activities for them today. After the service, we made lunch at the church together. Then, we headed down to the central plaza and walked around for a while. We finished off the day with a little ice cream and coffee at a local restaurant.

It was really disappointing for me to see them go. Of all the friends I've made here, I felt a special connection with these two. I think it was the combined benefits of having Spanish speaking friends who also understands what it's like to be a foreigner away from home. In our short few months, we had shared some good times. It was sad, but it also provided me with one of those rare times to see my year as if I were looking back on it, a time to recognize that, contrary to what it seems, I'm not going to be here forever.

Life's hard for me sometimes. I'm working really hard at developing my Bolivian life and understanding the world here. Sometimes it is exhilerating, and sometimes it is really depressing. For the most part, I'm really enjoying it. But in the end, I'm gonna pack up my things and leave my life here. Of course, I will carry in my heart Santa Cruz with all of it's complications and all the people I've met here and all the adventures I've had. But there won't be people who understand that part of me. No one is gonna party with me to celebrate Santa Cruz on September 24, 2008. Just like here, when Thanksgiving passed as another day at work.

This "no one ever understands all of me" self-pity train of thought is not uncommon for me these days. It usually goes on in circles for a while. Eventually, however, there is a memory that makes it stop. I remember going to a conference on Faith and International Development at Calvin College. It was a good experience for me, because MCC was at that conference, and it was the first time I got to talk in person to MCCers. I went to a session where a lady was telling her story of working with MCC. She talked about the ministry of presence and mutual transformation and other big MCC ideas.

Then she mentioned something that really stuck with me. She said an important thing was "being willing to carry a burden." Basically, she said, in working internationally, you have to be willing to let your heart hurt, often about things you can't change (like having to start your life over again and again and again) or about the way the world is (which sometimes seems like something you can't change). Not only that, but you may have to be the only one around who understands these stories or feels these pains. And so, in order to stop feeling sorry for myself, I remember that a large part of international development is about being willing to carry these burdens in my heart.

Last Wednesday Wendy asked if anyone would be willing to share some short thoughts on the Christmas season, and I volunteered. What can you really say about Christmas that is new? I don't know, but here are some of my thoughts on Christmas this year in Bolivia. Most of it comes from a conversation I had with my brother Luke a few weeks ago.

As I've said before, I've thought a lot about the OT lately, and struggled with ways of understanding it. We sometimes talk about God being transcendent, immanent, outside of time, etc. It makes me think sometimes that God is static and unchanging. I know we say that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, but it makes it sound like he doesn't have emotions either. As if he feels the same all the time. But a consistent analogy for God is that of a lover, with humanity being his bride. And the picture we get is far from a God who feels the same all the time.

It almost seems as if God is trying to figure out the best way to relate to humanity. That may sounds absurd or even sacrilegious, I know. First of all, though, I don't think life is some sort of puppet show God is putting on for himself. For whatever reason, he created us with some sort of autonomy (a big Santa Cruz ideal). Also, there are times when God "changes his mind" based on human input. I think if we let ourselves take a step back from all the big language we use about God, we start to see a real character, a person, or a protagonist if you will.

So, allow yourself for just a minute to think that God is a lover figuring out how to be in a relationship with humanity.

At the beginning, God chooses his people and tells them he will make them great. He gives them these great covenants (marriage vows?), with all these great promises. He also lays down a lot of specific agreements (if you do your part, then I'll do mine).

However, like often happens in relationships, God just gets used and even cheated on. His people twist his words for their own purposes. Over and over his heart gets broken. He gets angry and punishes, but he can't help but always comes back out of love. Eventually, though, God is so jilted, he gives 400 years of the silent treatment. It's as if he says, "That's it, I can't handle it. We need to go on break, and I need to reevaluate this relationship."

And then, after the silence, God finally comes back and says, "Even though you have cheated on me over and over, and even though there is this huge gap between us, I am still 100% committed to this relationship. In fact, I am so committed, that I am going to bridge the entire gap between us. In order to understand you, I am actually going to become one of you. No longer do you have to come to me, because I am coming to you. This is my new covenenant, I will write it on your hearts, and it will be for all people."

So I'm a week away from being in Santa Cruz for 4 months, and two weeks away from Christmas in a foreign country, both of which I am pretty excited about. My first several months here have reminded me in many ways of that first semester in college.

1) Social life: Up to this point, I've pretty much accepted every possible invitation to do anything. This has led to some great experiences including basketball tournaments, graduations, weddings, family vacations, etc. I do pretty much every social thing unless I have a reason not to (kind of like pick-a-dates). But, it also leads to doing things I'd rather not do (kind of like pick-a-dates). Some people I connect really well with, and others not so well with. It's like looking back at those first few months of college and laughing at who your "friends" were. However, my social life and friendships are developing, which leads me to number 2

2) Time management: With the development of social life, I have things to do almost every night. Then there's blogging, e-mailing, reading online news, reading books, etc. I also want to spend time at home with my host family. And of course, there's work. You can't do everything. You can't always go to Steak and Shake at midnight. Just because you can skip class doesn't mean it's worth it. Learning to manage time and responsibilites is always a struggle.

3) Learning new rules: there's all the little rules of college (Taylor in this case), such as a) if you only take one glass in the cafeteria, you look like a visitor b) girls pay for pick-a-dates if they invite, or c) you have to pretend Airband is cooler than it actually is. So I am learning all the little ways of fitting in here in Santa Cruz.

Of course, unlike college, everything here is in a different language. Also, I will never actually be Bolivian no matter how much I try to fit in. But, you know, other than that it's basically the same thing.

A little over two months ago, I wrote about my typical daily Spanish conversations. I feel like I should update things a little.

I must say, I like extended metaphors, so I hope you'll stick with me on this. I feel like speaking Spanish is a super complicated sport, and the rules of the sport consist in the grammar. Trying to learn Spanish without a concept of grammar would be like trying to play a sport without knowing the rules (or having anyone be able to explain them to you). Imagine trying to learn the rules of football by trial and error:

-"Ok, so I can pound that guy when he has the ball, but when that guy tries to kick it I can't touch him"

-"95% of the time when the ball hits the ground the play is over, but when that guy dropped it everyone went crazy."

Those would probably be among the easy ones. It would be a long time before you figured out the complexities of something like illegal procedure, when 2 guys are "in motion" at the same time. Not impossible, but complicated for sure. Now take the rules of a sport and multiply it by like 20, and you have learning the grammar of a new language.

So I spent several years learning the rules of Spanish and doing small practice drills. But now, I'm in the game. Anyone who plays sports knows a real game is way more intense than practice. Take basketball for example. In practice, you focus on one thing at a time, lets say making a layup. You line up in a huge line, and when your turn comes you run up and make the layup. However, in a real game, the situation is changing every second. Within a matter of seconds, you might change directions and receive a pass directly under the basket; now you have half a second to make the shot or your chance is gone.

And so, in my first few weeks playing, I took small steps. I took advantage of times when the situation was moving slowly and carefully made my contribution. But I've been progressing rapidly for a couple of reasons. (1) In my other Latin American experiences, I usually had a lot of time outs with other English speaking people. Here, on the other hand, 90% of the time I'm the only English speaker around (not an exact statistic). (2) I know the rules.

All of this to say, to use the phrase of the great Derek Weller, I'm opening up a can of whoop-awesome on Spanish. Ok, that might be an exaggeration. I'm definitely not a superstar, but I do feel like I'm doing well. I can keep up with the conversations of native speakers, even if no one is talking to me. I can even eavesdrop occaisionally (although Spanish speakers are generally more quiet than we Americans). I can make jokes and give people a hard time. I can be sarcastic or even pull off a double-meaning here and there. I've started to have real conversations with people and go beyond just the surface level of things. And the thing is, it's fun. It feels like playing a sport. It's a game, it's what I've practice for, and I'm starting to win.

P.S. This isn't about my Spanish against anyone else's. I'm not trying to say I'm "winning" in comparison to anyone else. Just that I'm starting to get the hang of having "real" conversations in Spanish, and I'm enjoying it like I would enjoy lowering my golf score from 141 to 130.

It's December now, which I can hardly believe. First of all, it means that I've been in Santa Cruz for more than three months. Time seems to be flying by, and I can hardly believe it. In just a few days, Bolivia will officially be the foreign country in which I have spent the most time.

It's also hard to believe it's December because instead of snow, dead leaves, candles, fires in the fireplace, etc., we welcomed December with one of the hottest days that I've been here. I left this morning to go to MCC, and by the time I got on the bus I had given up the hope of not being disgusting. It's weird to have it be so hot this time of year. This afternoon I put in George Winston's December, and it was a strange sensation. I sat on my bed, sweating, and thought about late nights making coffee at the Jumping Bean and cold walks home in the silence of the snow.

Of course, Santa Cruz has it's own musical way of welcoming December. That is, of course, the arrival of Daddy Yankee in concert. Daddy Yankee is the champion of Reggaeton, and if you don't know what Reggaeton is, I don't think I'm the best person to satirically describe it to you. It involves the same basic bass beat (how about that for alliteration) in all the songs, lots of bling and scantily clad women. Of course, there is profound lyrical value. Take, for example, the chorus to Daddy Yankee's biggest hit "Gasolina," which I have taken the liberty of translating myself despite its complexity:

She likes gasoline.
(Give me more gasoline.)
How she loves gasoline.
(Give me more gasoline.)

Unfortunately, I will not be able to make it to the concert tonight. I am sure it would be a cultural experience, to say the least.