The Wonder of Entertainment for Children

While I mostly admire children's books (The Bridge to Terebithia is lovely, I borrowed it from the Nita School library which is funny because the kids can't read the short sentence that I write on the board, let alone a short novel with beautiful but idiomatic expressions), I had the chance also to enjoy a movie aimed at the younger set called Master of Disguises.
It is entertaining but I most enjoyed watching it because I did so shortly after a day of culture shock in which the schedule at the school was changed and I did not know how to adjust to it. There is a scene where the main character is being taught to do something but is only half told how to do it. As a result, he gets knocked to the ground. I identified with him because, with my limited Lao and others' limited English, I am often half-told, so that I am getting knocked around a bit. Gently but still frustratingly. It gives me sympathy for my students who I can at most half-instruct and whose questions I can't understand let alone answer. Perhaps they also feel a bit bruised by it. But then we eat lunch together and all is well.
I also read a book called Owly about a curious owl who asks his mom questions like "How high is the sky? How many waves does the sea have? How many stars are in the sky?" His mom tells him to go and count, or fly and see. Of course, he can't ever count everything or reach the heighth of the sky. Completely unrelated to where I am, I still found this story a powerful reminder of the wonder of our world and of the wonder that its Creator has these answers that we can't fathom. It also, maybe, is a lesson on teaching-- on helping people seek answers instead of dictating them to them. Currently, I'm using the latter method in my classes. Any tips on how to switch over?
Happy Thanksgiving! Think of the wonders of this world as you give thanks.
Peace,
Renee

Once over my shock, I was mostly pleased with the change. Here I am being pleased :)

Short Hair

These days it doesn't look quite the same, as I don't have the patience or the flat iron of the salon, but you get the idea. Notice the fancy nail polish also. Hair cut and manicure: $2.50. Come and visit and I'll be up for another spa or beauty day.

A Shocking Change

Back to the subject of change, and a fascinating one I find it to be. Recently, my most shocking change is also one most transitory. I got a haircut. An asian haircut, not just because I am in Asia but because it is the same style that looks beautiful on trendy Thai women and, the same cut but different (longer), that looks beautiful on all of my Lao women friends and students.
I recommend for everyone who is too afraid to change their hairstyle (as I have always been) just to go to a salon where you cannot communicate properly with the stylist. You cannot help but end up with something new and exciting. And there is no reason but to rejoice, for hair grows back and there's nothing to be done in the meantime but accept people's graciousness (my fellow teachers and students so showered me with compliments that I am almost convinced I look beautiful with short hair and bangs).
Have a piqued your interest? I'll post a photo the next chance I have but it shan't be now because there's no USB port on my computer.
While you await said photo, perhaps contemplate how you have changed recently. I think that maybe we change a little bit each day, even on the dull days. I think maybe small things like reading a poem or looking closely at a flower or, less idealistically, sitting through hours of a meeting or driving in our cars (or on our motorbikes) can change us. Maybe? Maybe that's getting carried away. I don't know what it would be like to be changed by a car ride, except that I will never forget several rides I've had-- the CD that was playing or the way I could look through the window at this star during the whole ride or peering through the windshield at the moon or the way it smelled because people had taken off their hiking boots-- and if we remember something, it has changed something in our brain (right, my medical friends). And if we change physically, can we help but be changed spiritually? Aren't our physical and spiritual selves bound up together?
I'm not saying that each change makes me a better or a worse person. But I've been trying to ask myself how today (or yesterday...) changed me and I am surprised that as I am more aware of being changed, perhaps I am changed more. For example, if I am aware that sitting through an MCC meeting to hear people's reports and listening to a monk who I could most unfortunately not understand, may have made me think more about what poverty is and what it means for someone to be Buddhist if the gate is narrrow but God is love, I may open myself up to change that I would miss if the meeting was but a meeting.
I've got to be done rambling for I'm off to a film festival (thanks to the Austrailian Embassy), to live the expat life, to be changed by a film. Look for that photo to come up soon.
Peace, Renee

After The Race

Not that The Race is over, but the one that took place in Vientiane has come and gone. Here's a photo to prove it. I took fourth in the 10k, I think because many of the fast women were running the half-marathon. It earned me a trip beside the podium and a basket of soymilk. I look befuddled but really I was quite happy to have run and to be heaped with honor for it (can you be heaped with honor when you are next to the podium but not on it? in any case, I felt more honored than I think my time deserved). The Victory Monument is gloriously in the background-- made with concrete donated for a runway but put to much more inspiring, if less practical, use.

Running the Race

Before we left our MCC orientation, the former executive director Robb Davis, spoke about life and faith. He spoke about how the Beatitudes say that those who pursue righteousness are blessed but how it doesn't seem that way in this world a lot of the time. He spoke about Hebrews 11 and how the people of faith listed there didn't live to see what they hoped for. And he spoke of running the race anyways-- pursuing righteousness when you don't feel blessed in that pursuit and being faithful even when you may not live to see your hopes realized. It was a powerful message, I thought, since I too often fail to see how God is fulfilling his promises to bless, to not be mocked.
A week ago, I ran in the Vientiane 10K. It strikes me, as it did when I ran cross country in high school and would spend some runs planning to write a book about how running is a metaphor for life, that the race metaphor is very apt. Races and faith are both hard yet joyful things. I am always apprehensive before a race and always tired during it. I do not wake up wanting to go to a race nor do I always want to keep going once I've started. There are always moments where I need someone to cheer me on (like the MCC Laos folks who came out in the early morning to show support or the Lao runner who finished with me and kept saying "Fighting" to remind me not to slow down) or to reach down and cheer for myself. Yet somehow, when it is all over, I am so joyful to have run. Inexplicably, generally-- although this time I was given a basket of soymilk, a good cause for joy, eh?
This past week has been like a race in many ways. I did not wake up and feel ready to teach or fail to teach (any tips on managing classroom behavior would be most welcome, especially for large classes that don't speak your language), to not be understood, to be misunderstood, to not understand. But then I heard cheers from the sidelines-- a phone call from home, a package from the community group I was a part of last year in Seattle with gifts and letters of encouragement, a text message from another MCCer. Or I found a second wind in trips to the That Luang festival (more on that later) or successful communication attempts with the other teachers or lunch with the students. And I realized that I am blessed to be here (am I pursuing righteousness? I'm not entirely sure what that pursuit might look like in my life. But I'm here learning what it might mean to pursue) and joyful to be running, that God provides moments of rest and baskets of soymilk as I keep going. And that others are faithfully running, too, in Seattle, Cambodia, Tanzania. May you find the strength to put on your shoes when you least want to and may there be moments of great lightness and cool breezes to balance the hot and tired times.