Gringa

It wasn't what I had expected, but it was a successful retreat.  Seven young girls to Flandes and back without major incident and only one case of vomiting.  There had been lots of time in the swimming pool and no one was sun burned.  We'd helped establish deeper friendships between the girls.  There had been opportunities to share about Jesus and His love.  The girls had been happy.  In fact, three of the seven had associated their time at the retreat as the happiest day in their life.   It had been good.  We had survived.  Why then, was I so relieved when two of my three assistants had gotten off the bus and had finally left me alone with the girls and my closest Colombian friend and partner in ministry, Janet?

It was hard to deny that the group of seven had been handpicked by the Lord.  Since attendance and good behavior were prerequisites, only four of those going were among the initial group that had been invited.   And one, who we'll call April, of those four had been disqualified until the Lord spoke in a dream (not a common occurrence with me at all) and told me to include her once more.  The remaining three guests were younger and included when the others were disqualified.

We were smart enough to ask for permission from the parents to administer Mareol if necessary.  That had nipped travel vomiting in the bud.  Ears popping all the way we had left the cold rainy climate of Bogota and arrived in steamy, hot and much lower altitude Flandes in time for a late breakfast.   We got the girls started on their assignment to make a beaded bracelet for each of their friends until the food had settled some and they could head to the pool.  They were thrilled.  When it was time for lunch we served build your own hotdogs and no crumbs had been left on the table outside.

It was right about then that I should have known something would be amiss.  I headed into the house to ask for our guest speaker to begin her activities since we had to wait before the girls could enter the pool again and the sun was at its hottest.  It was then that Janet informed me that our speaker along with our hostess had gone elsewhere for lunch. Apparently, due to health and food preferences, they didn't 'do' hotdogs.

At the time it was all about survival, so I pulled out the manicure equipment I had brought along and got the girls busy doing their nails.   That kept them happily entertained while Janet texted our friends at the local restaurant and asked them to hurry back.   Before too long our speaker had returned and we moved forward with activities.

Late in the afternoon, we had the girls back in the pool, and with little to no shade I did the 90 minute lifeguard detail.  I was quite the sight since I really had no appropriate summer apparel,  I was sweaty. sticky and my legs were completely smeared with inflamed black-fly bites.  Apparently the local bugs had let the word out that gringas make for a delicious mid afternoon snack.  I must have been the only one in town.

Did you catch that foreign word?  Now, looking back, I realize that this was why I had ended up feeling off balance about how the retreat had gone.  I was the gringa.  Truth be known that disqualified me in a way I had not even considered in light of the event.

I had not fallen in line with an understood list of dos and don'ts.  It was perfectly acceptable for me to foot the US$40.00 expense per child  that the retreat cost.  I received no arguments regarding whether I should pay that bill.  I had understood that from the beginning.   While transportation fees were higher than I had anticipated and had I known that prior to making the financial commitment I may have reconsidered, I had already accepted that I would pay.  Where I made my mistake was that I had assumed that that provided me with un-negotiable rights regarding what  food would be served and what would be bought.

I quickly learned that my menu was unacceptable, that changes needed to be made with it and there were not many alternatives now that we were where we were as to what those costly changes could be.   I will not even get into the fact that I had been told we could purchase food once we arrived and after the fact been told that wasn't really feasible and I should have let them know beforehand that purchases would be necessary.

I have since made a mental note that there is a major difference between gringo and latin digestive systems.  I am of a race that can eat fruit at night.  They are not.  And I also have the luxury of surviving the delicacy of added cream.

But you know, the biggest problem was my wardrobe and hygiene habits.  I dressed too casually.  They're right actually.  It wasn't until late the night before I departed that I realized I had no summer clothes and made a chin up decision to make do.  I didn't wear a lick of make up.  I would have loved to have had the luxury of time to make myself up for the event.   Clearly they did.  Being completely occupied trying to make sure everything else was taken care of had pushed that luxurious priority off the list for me.  Besides, large white woman that I am, I would have sweated it all off in the first five minutes anyway.  (Why don't these women ever sweat?)

But perhaps the most difficult moment was when the guest speaker who works for a government agency that deals with abused children started analyzing my children and informed me of their abusive situations and wanted to know what I, as 'boss' was going to do about it.  Now isn't that a nice can of worms?  If her evaluations were correct I just wanted to go somewhere first and weep for the girl(s) - at lost innocence and trust.  I wanted to applaud their ability as survivors to keep on living.  I wanted to give them this retreat as 24 hours of being safe.  We'd figure the rest out later.

I told this oh-so-knowledgeable-after-just-a-few-hours-one that I wasn't actually the boss, but I would speak with our director.  I told her years had been invested in building up trust relationships with families and we couldn't just charge in and start tearing families apart without giving some consideration to integrity and circumstances.  (How can you 'know' these things, anyway?)  She left me alone after my response.  She wasn't happy.  I was relieved - to be in the safety of solitude for a few minutes.

It was an odd night.  It felt spiritual but not oppressive.  April, as we had been forewarned, manifested a form of seizure during her sleep.  They went on throughout the entire night and woke us up.  Then we'd calm her down and try to fall back asleep.  Physicians have said there is nothing physically wrong with her except perhaps a hormonal imbalance due to her age. 

Many of the girls were afraid of the dark and collectively came running into our room asking us to pray with them.  It was a great opportunity to share about the Lord.  Janet ultimately ended up relocating to their room.  There were outside disturbances and I doubt I slept for more than 15 to 30 minutes at a time.  Yet God's goodness and presence, not that of evil, were palpable.

In the morning the girls each prepared the fruit they had brought to contribute to a salad bar.  They took it on as a community.  I stopped my two 'helpers' from interfering and convinced them the girls were capable of doing it.  It required me fiercely forbidding them to make fruit juice with any of what the girls had brought.  I was baffled by their insistence to interfere.

Nonetheless, the girls arranged a beautiful, ascetically appealing layout and we all went to our very own restaurant "Casa Buena Semilla"  where the girls could throw onto their fruit salad of choice as much cream and cheese as their hearts desired.   Apparently that is acceptable in the morning.  Or maybe they had finally given up on me.

There were several close out activities including another trip to the pool, where one of the girls introduced me to a stranger as her mother.  "Well," she added "my adopted mother."  I said, "That's probably true."  Most interesting to note is that I had had to work through some tough discipline issues with that same girl and that's where we ended up - happily adopted mother and daughter.

Throughout the retreat, Janet probably felt required to defend me to the other two assistants more times than either of us would care to count until they finally paid her the worst insult possible.  Janet is, unfortunately, just like me.  Poor thing!

It was a good retreat.  It really was.  Our hostess said that our girls are better behaved than her nieces and nephews.  That's the first time any of our high risk kids have ever been identified as better behaved than anyone.  When we climbed into the bus to return home, I encouraged the girls to thank both our guest speaker and our hostess and they did a beautiful job of it.  Then with no outside urging, they took it upon themselves to also thank the driver.  I was proud of each one of them.

But it was a hard experience for me.  Issues came up regarding the girls for which I now have the responsibility to take some form of action.  It was also hard on a personal level because I realized that I wasn't good enough.  That who I was and where I was from was an insurmountable problem that I am not ever going to completely get beyond.  That my money is quite frankly more desirable than me.

As a missionary I have stuck my neck out.  I have gone to a foreign land.  I have learned a foreign language.  I have put my money where my mouth is.  It doesn't matter how hard I struggle to understand and communicate, how hard I try to respect a different way, I'll never get it completely right.  And it is my job, my profession of faith to meet the people where they are - not within my own context.  I meet them in their language and in their culture and if that's hard for me, tough luck.  I will rejoice in all that God does.  I will be confident that I am called and that I serve a valid purpose.  I don't doubt at all that I do bring something valuable to the table.

Days later, I realized that what had made the retreat hard for me was the burden of the field.  So when I am asked about the retreat there are two possible responses.

In the one I ramble about a lot of good things that God did.  I share about why we would seriously consider doing it again and why I would once more be willing to foot the bill through the mission funding we receive.  I would talk about how my heart was stretched in new ways, and how very happy the girls were.

The second response is most likely for those closest to me.  I would say, "I was alone, profoundly alone and I realize now that isn't going to change."