The Little Church with the Big Heart

Woolwine United Methodist Church, Woolwine, VA


Wow. The world is truly full of surprises. Take, for instance, the discovery I made this morning that my expenses back home in the US were skyrocketing even as my income was remaining fixed. To say I had a panic attack was an understatement. While I won't go into the ins and outs of why my economic situation is suddenly changing, but suffice it to say that for a long ten minutes or so, I was reeling at the prospect of calling my mom and figuring out what exactly I was going to do.


I don't know why it's so hard for me to admit my difficulties to my parents; I guess you could call it foolish pride. I have worked very hard to be the best person I felt I could be, but when my world gets rocked I immediately reject the help I know they would be prepared to offer and try to handle it myself. Almost never a good idea. Luckily for me, I have Roman here to talk some sense into me, and he managed to calm me down and convince me to call home.

And boy am I glad I did! When I explained the situation to my mother, she was surprisingly calm and casually said "Well... you've got a little bit of money here... something from Woolwine..."


Woolwine.


Because I'm certain very few of you know anything about the location and relative size of this gem, let me tell you a little about Woolwine. For starters, Woolwine is a small town- town is actually an overstatement- deep in the heart of Patrick County, Virginia. It is 8 miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway, 36 miles from Christiansburg and Blacksburg, and about 25 miles from Martinsville. The population MIGHT be around 500 or so. And the downtown area consists of three main commercial buildings, a bank, an Elementary School, and a volunteer Fire/Rescue squad. It is everything that you equate with Appalachia- orchards, rolling hills, hidden streams...the works.


What is also important to know is that while my mother says Woolwine, she is actually referring to Woolwine United Methodist Church- the place where she was married and I was Baptised all those long years ago. I have such fond memories of this little country church. It is postcard-perfect, having even been featured in National Geographic years ago in a photobook of Appalachia. The congregation is small, but devoted; this is still a place where people remember your great grandmother, keep up with you even though you live in another state, and remember your mother when she was just a little girl.


What is perhaps most important to know about Woolwine UMC is that the money they sent- a large sum for a small, primarily elderly congregation- was the answer to a prayer I hadn't even had a chance to pray. This little church, filled with such love and heart, came to the rescue of one of their own- even though many of them haven't seen me in years. What counts is that they know where I'm coming from, and they know where I am...and they want to see me flourish. And I will... with their love and help, combined with the love and care of my own congregation. This is truly what the Christian family is all about.

The REAL blog for today

I’m sorry to be posting two blogs at once- I’m sure the departure from the norm is annoying to some of you, and I’m sorry. I DID write a nice little blog last week, which I’ve just posted, but Blogger was closed down for repairs, so I couldn’t post until now. I know- even on the internet things break down and have to be repaired!

But anyways, here I am once again. And this time I am writing on a Friday night; Roman has just showered and headed to bed- I can still smell his body wash mingling with the litterbox and the smoky smell of burning garbage just beyond our doors. Somehow this is comforting. Don’t ask.

I am also absorbed in a magnificent recording of Brahms 3rd Symphony. It is the London Symphony Orchestra directed by the talented Ms. Marin Alsop. It’s rare to find a female in the pro-leagues of conducting, which goes to show you that even in the liberal world of the arts women still have far to go towards equality. (And this is in no way an endorsement for Sarah Palin!) This recording, however, is fabulous. I can hear every nuance, crescendo, decrescendo, and even the dovetailed entrances that make Brahms the incredible composer he was.

If you have never heard Brahms 3rd, then you either need to go buy this recording, or find out when the closest local symphony is playing it and get the tickets ordered. If you play a stringed instrument, then you need to join an orchestra that plans to play it. Once you’ve made the necessary arrangements to get your ears around it, then get into a comfortable seat and crank up the volume.

The first movement of the symphony itself is a masterwork and deserves to be played alone. From the dramatic first few seconds, Brahms wraps his listeners up into a tempest of emotion. I defy any human with a heart to listen to this movement and not feel, for one second, that you’re taking a glimpse into the divine. The rich and sumptuous harmonies give every measure a depth that is awe-inspiring. Listen to the strings- the way the violins work together in the upper reaches of their ranges, the violas dig into the low ends of their instruments, the cellists play demanding runs all over the instruments, and the glorious low basses finish everything off. It’s magnificent.

And it only gets better. The second movement is gentle and nostalgic, with a simple theme and variation reminiscent of the great opera arias of Puccini and Verdi. It’s all so rich- he begins so simply that it is almost shocking, and then he adds layers upon layers to the fabric. I love these endless dimensions. Perhaps it is the depth of Brahms and Mahler that make me adore their music over the ever-popular Mozart and Beethoven. Don’t get me wrong- I like those guys too, but Brahms, Mahler, and Dvorak…they have “oomph!”

Which, in a roundabout way, brings me to my point for this week.

I have feelings for Limon. Despite the paranoia, the language I’m still wrestling to understand, and the garbage men who are on strike AGAIN, I am once again developing deep feelings for this place. I don’t know where they came from, or how they came to be so very deep, but there they are again, as if they never left. Roman and I do not see eye to eye on this; don’t get me wrong- he loves the people here, but I caught him thrice referring to the house in Limon as “home,” and he immediately recanted each time! I guess I just don’t get it- I understand the adage that home is where the heart is, but is there something wrong with making everywhere you go a home?

My love for Limon is a lot like Brahms 3rd, I think. It’s deep, it’s rich, it’s stark in contrast to what I’m used to, but the comparison perfectly captures my personal zeitgeist. It is, at times, melancholy like the end of the second movement- but it is also bold and thriving in the face of adversity like the thrilling counterpoint of the first movement. And like the way the last measures of each movement gracefully come to a peaceful and warm close, I have every reason to believe that this experience will be one that I look back on with happiness and nostalgia.

My companion, on the other hand, lives firmly in North Carolina. He is here in body, but his heart is split between the wonderful students we teach here and his life back home. Sometimes I admire the way he seems to be prepared for whatever is waiting for him when he returns, but sometimes I am exasperated (and he knows this, so I’m not dishing any secrets) by his drive to plan and look ahead. He is an excellent teacher and he is anxious to see what God has got in store for him back stateside, but I wonder if looking SO far ahead means that he will miss some of the blessings he is being given right here. At any rate he is who he is, and I am who I am. I like Brahms and he…well…I guess he’s more of a Bach kind of guy. He likes planning. And he’s not bad at math either.

Speaking of my companion and his proclivity towards planning, the man is doing a stellar job with his new theory class. My advanced students, while they’re pretty impressive, are nothing compared to the beginning theory classes he is teaching. They are active, engaged, and really getting the material. He has certainly been blessed with the gifts for this mission. You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m just here to keep him company while he does the real work at the school. He lives for lesson plans, and me? Well…if you know me, then you know the answer to that question!

Anyhow, Brahms 3rd is over now and I’ve enjoyed all of it- the clashing climaxes, the dissonance, the fire and passion, and even the tranquility of it all. You see, something I have learned about myself here is that I like the process of living. I love where I am, and who I’m with, and what I’m doing most of the time, whether that is in Limon or Greensboro, or even Nashville. I know that life has its intricacies, its problems, its tempests, and havens. Like the Brahms, It’s full of erratic rhythms, crashing cymbals, blaring horns, diminished triads, and even the occasional hemiola. From far away it’s a big ole mess, but on closer inspection it is a stupendous feat of organization and passion…and it’s mine to enjoy whenever and wherever I please. So here’s my adage: Home may be where the heart is, but it’s up to you and your heart to decide where you make your home!

On the road again...

Not really, although for some reason that title seemed very appropriate.



Well, the new trimester has begun in earnest, and oddly enough I find that Roman and I have flip-flopped in our class load for the term. Last trimester, I had to design the school schedule so that it could be run as a one-woman show, and when Roman arrived a month and a half later there wasn't much for him to do other than teach lessons. Now I am teaching a second-level theory class that only includes a few students who exhibited the drive to go further into analysis and learning about the function of various chords. I feel like I had a few more students that could've competently entered this class, but many of them feel a touch insecure about moving so quickly and have decided to take Roman's basic theory class as a refresher. This means that he has alot of students. Good for him- I have no problem dealing with a lighter classload.



That said, I also feel a little disappointed that I don't have more students continuing into the next level. I try not to take it personally- the test scores of my students proved that they learned alot, and yet I feel somewhat like a failure for not having produced a class of students that were fully prepared to continue into the more difficult aspects of theory. Because he is naturally competitive and driven, Roman has (surely not intended) issued something of a challenge to me... I get the feeling that he plans to produce better results than I did, and so I am greatly disheartened but hope that I can compete. It is hard to be brought so firmly back down to terra firma and realize that maybe you aren't the teacher you thought you were. Eeek.



As we prepared for this week, we were blessed with another opportunity to spend some time with a fellow American- the incredible Sister Sally. Sally and her husband live in the kind of place that most people dream about living in...it's a jungle, surrounded on all sides by great vistas of ocean and port. We had been invited to have lunch with her, and then the intention was to co-operatively teach her how to create powerpoint presentations. Lunch was a fabulous American treat- REAL HAMBURGERS, followed by the incredible experience of seeing a sloth face to face. The poor little guy was cornered in a ginger plant by Sally's well-meaning dogs, and we appreciated getting to see the koala-sized fellow smiling at us from a foot away.



After the close encounter, Roman and I ventureed into Sally's office to help her with powerpoint. Because I am a control freak, I had quickly dispatched Roman from the assignment and had fully taken over teaching Sally how to use the program. God had a good laugh at my expense however, as Sally's husband Crosby took Roman on a grand tour of their property, complete with freshly grown grapefruit sampling and the exquisite delicacy of cacao pods. You have to understand- when I was little, my father kept (and I believe he still has) an extensive collection of OLD National Geographic magazines. In one of these magazines, I remember an article about the Amazon Rainforest, and in particular a picture of small tribal children sucking the sweet skin from cacao pods. Ever since I have wanted to try this delicacy...and here Roman had blindly stumbled into it! I was SO JEALOUS! And believe me, he's gotten alot of mileage out of it, still rubbing it in from time to time (inadvertantly letting me know just how he felt about the powerpoint upset... I'm learning alot about cross-gender communication here!).



Anyways, to make a long story short, I am getting the opportunity to relax just a little this trimester, and I hope that this will give me the opportunity to figure out exactly what I am good at so that I can best contribute to our final trimester, due to start in February. At the very least it will give me the chance to start getting that dratted book you all keep talking about put together. Believe me, there is a chapter sitting right here on this very laptop! We'll see what comes from it.

At any rate, the trimester is off and running. We're doing all that we can to make sure that this trimester trumps the last!

It's the little things...

Lauren and Gen, our first guests
Carlos, also stubbornly referred to as George Michael
A view of Bastimentos from la Playa del Ladrones in Bocas Del Toro.



So we're back in Limon. And it's the day before classes resume here, although we're still not sure how many to expect for our first meeting.





Since our return, every day has been punctuated with some small delightful thing that we could not have anticipated. For starters, only an hour after my last post Roman and I were on the boat to Changuinola. We sat far apart- this was my decision and it proved to be a good thing, as it put Roman beside a fellow American, Lauren, for the entirety of the trip back to Changuinola.





Lauren and her friend Gen were traveling from Panama City up to Tortuguero canal, a tourist attraction just north of Limon. They were headed to Limon, essentially winging it...which, as you know, is not the safest idea. So I asked them if they wanted to join us, travelling with me because I had the prior experience to know which buses to take and what time we could expect to arrive. They agreed to follow along, and by the time we reached Limon Centro we were very comfortable with one another. So, being so close to dark, we invited them to stay with us for the night. This proved to be one of the best decisions we could've made- they were exceptional companions, and they also understood the stress that comes from being a mixed gender pair that have to rely on one another without the benefit of an emotional relationship. It was like finding our kindred spirits! We treated them to dinner- rather, they treated us- and then we came to Maribu to swim for a few hours.





The next morning, we woke up early and took Lauren and Gen to the bank as well as to the bus station, where we watched to make sure that they got safely on the bus to Moin. Then we went to breakfast before heading home. We hadn't been home for too long before our former neighbor, Fidel, came by to let us know that he was finally ready to bring the kitten that we'd been waiting for. And so we added Carlos into our little makeshift family.





Carlos is a very tiny 6 week old Tabby with a fiery personality. He is affectionate, but not overly so. Mostly he spends his time pouncing wildly across the floor and climbing up on the sofa to sleep behind my neck. He's adorable, and he has definitely brought out our softer sides. All of a sudden we're speaking in baby-talk and nuzzling this tiny little creature as though he were an infant. Incredible, isn't it?





Finally, the greatest blessing arrived last night in an envelope marked "First Class" and covered with stickers bearing "I Love You" and images of Christ all over it. I had been preparing dinner (my first attempt at fried chicken- which was actually successful!) when the phone rang. It was Cheery, the registrar for our school. She asked if I was going to be at home for awhile to come, because she had some registration forms for me...and then she added "and some mail." Mail? For me? I don't even have a physical address here!





When she arrived a few minutes later, I was elbow deep in flour. I sent Roman down to meet her, and when he returned he slipped the small envelope on the kitchen counter. It took me second to process what it might be. The postal stamp read McCloud, Oklahoma. Oklahoma? Who could it be?





Many of you remember that when I was first promoted at Brentwood Benson, more than a year ago, I was blessed with the territory of Mississippi and Oklahoma. Oh, how I loved my territory! I looked again at the envelope. It couldn't be. BUT IT WAS! A letter, handwritten, from a former customer in Oklahoma, mailed to me in Costa Rica, telling me that I was in her thoughts and that she loved me. Included in the letter was a pair of mailing stamps with her address, so that I could write her back. I was overwhelmed with emotion- caught between great joy and a touch of nostalgia for the life I had left behind.





It wasn't much- just a page, really- but that one page captured my heart. You know what they say...it's the little things that often mean so much.

Bocas Del Tour-O!!

Well, my friends, finally a moment of calm and peace here in Central America. Although, if you keep up with Roman's blog you already know most of what I will tell you. However, if you continue reading anyways, I can promise more colorful and exciting sidebars than you can shake a stick at... at least I'll try...

It is no secret to any regular reader that I have been struggling with my life here in Central America since our unfortunate attack a month ago in our old Barrio back in Limon. Once violated, the sense of security- even naivete- that we have over the place where we live is nearly impossible to reestablish. You spend alot of your time wondering who will attack you, and when it will occur. It's just the nature of things. How fortunate, then, that my Visa renewal would come up just at the exact moment when my paranoia would reach it's peak.

September 28th found Roman and myself on a small charter bus at 5 in the morning, traveling the incredible distance between Limon and San Jose with our sisters from Faith Moravian Church. This was the annual trip to Bible Antorcha- a quiz game designed by the Sunday School Board to encourage biblical scholarship through friendly competition within the Province. Roman and I had both been asked to judge the competition, so we made the decision to make our trip to San Jose the first part of an extended vacation to pick up and renew our Visas.

The night of the 27th had been quite rainy, and as we prepared to leave the house, or as most of you have heard from Roman,"The Hatch," it was still drizzling and generally looking dismal. I assumed this to be an omen of sorts- any who know me can attest to my affinity for Old Wive's Tales and superstitious beliefs...yes, I do read my horoscope everyday... anyhow, I wasn't feeling very confident about the trip. I should've known, however, that God would come through- less than an hour later we were cruising along the Jungle Highway under the brilliant arc of a double rainbow- the ultimate sign of His care and compassion for his children.

Antorcha proved to be exciting, and it definitely gave me some ideas about things to try when we return home. The idea of a biblical competition had me intrigued from the begining, but seeing it in action proved to me that it was a very useful tool for teaching and learning key points of the bible. I think the Baptists are on to something with this "Bible Bowl" idea.

After a delicious lunch together, we parted from our Limonense family and checked into our hotel- the very nice and reasonably priced Dunn Inn. If you're ever in San Jose, stay there. I can't recommend it enough! We spent the next few days in San Jose, where we finally got to feel like we were home with the cool autumn temperatures and crisp breezes blowing against us as we jetted from Embassy to Bank to bookstore, stocking up on English language materials that are so hard to find back in Limon. Finally, at the end of our trip we received word from CREN- the Costa Rica Exoticas Naturales travel agency- that our trip to Panama was solidly booked and ready to go... great news for travelweary gringos needing a break and new visas.

Our trip to Panama has been fantastic from start to finish. The bus ride from San Jose to Sixaola, on the Panamanian border, was long but peaceful. While on the bus we met three fellows from the states, one of which was also a missionary/musician who had been in San Jose for a year. Believe or not, they too had been robbed at gunpoint just a few days prior. This is becoming something we encounter more and more here... Americans are easy targets, and almost all that we meet have the same story to tell. There is comfort in knowing that we're not the only ones, but it's sad at the same time.

These three men would prove to be with us every step of our journey, although we never planned any part of our trip with them. After crossing the border into Panama, which I have written about previously from my first trip here, we were whisked away by a taxi to Almirante. Almirante is an hour from the border, and all of us (Roman, myself, the three men from the bus, and four German women...there are LOTS of Germans here!) were wondering just where the heck we were headed. When we finally arrived at the boat dock, we had to wait another hour to board what would turn out to be an incredibly tightly packed boat to Isla Colon. Fortunately for us, the boat ride from Almirante was only 30 minutes instead of the hour from Changuinola...which we're actually waiting to take right now!

We wasted no time after leaving the boat finding our hotel, which proved to be quite a nice place. One of the many perks of our travel package through CREN was that every detail was provided- the tours, the hotel, breakfast at a local restaurant...all of it was hassle-free and highly enjoyable. We spent our first evening watching the Dow rebound from Monday's market crash, and napping peacefully (or not so peacefully... my headcold making normal breathing nigh upon impossible).

The first tour we took was a boat tour of the many islands that make up Bocas Del Toro. We spent half an hour or more chasing dolphins as they porpoised across the crystalline blue sea in groups of four or more. It was amazing to see them playing so cheerfully. Trust me, I got some good pictures of that. Afterwards the boat parked out in the middle of the sea for some snorkeling. I LOVE snorkeling. I think it's just about the coolest thing to do in water. However, I don't love being parked in the middle of the Caribbean sea and jumping into water of unknown depth with animals that are far more dangerous than the small reef dwellers I usually observe. That said, I decided to sit out on this part of the expedition, instead choosing to read and have a nice conversation with our driver. When the rest of the tour returned (yes, including the three guys from the bus) they expressed their surprise at the lack of fish. I knew then that I had made the right decision for myself- I would've been supremely disappointed if I had gone through that trouble and hadn't even seen any fish!

From Cayo Corale, we ventured to Bastimentos Island for a few hours at Red Frog Beach. Beaches aren't really Roman's scene, so I gave him my camera to take whatever photos he pleased while I swam in the mild ocean. It was great fun. Believe me, we have lots of pictures to prove it!

After a few hours at Red Frog, the driver surprised us with a final stop at Playa de Ladrones... the Beach of the Thieves, on Hospital Island. This was a real treat. The beach was secluded, and the snorkeling was very nice. I saw lots of jellyfish and sylphs, as well as a variety of beautiful fish and corals. I was especially pleased with sighting a MASSIVE sea urchin. It was cool. When we returned, we flipped on CNN and got ready to go out for dinner. We dined on Peruvian food. It was good. Go get you some!

Yesterday, we spent the whole day on Bocas del Drago, a secluded beach on the far end of Isla Colon. When we first arrived, we were the first people in the area, and I must admit that we had no idea what to do to stay entertained. Before long, however, boats of snorkelers began to arrive and we were able to borrow masks and explore the bay. It was not the best snorkeling ever, but it was still very cool and gave us our only view of a sting ray on the entire trip. By the time our taxi arrived to bring us back to Bocas city, we had decided that Drago was our favorite stop on the whole trip.

Finally, to cap off our trip, we spent last night absorbed in the Vice Presidential debates. We are both in a unique position because neither of us are voting this time around, so we were able to enjoy the debate without any political commitment. I was impressed with Palin, especially since all we see of her in Costa Rica is the Tina Fey comedy routine making fun of her. She held her own quite well, although Biden was equally as impressive. What excellent candidates we have this time around, and what a shame that they have to inherit this gargantuan mess. We don't envy you guys right now. We just pray that when we return home, there will still be a home to return to!