Confessions of a Chia Bomber

When I first started planning my trip to Washington State to help Allyson settle into her dorm, I was thrilled to find I'd earned enough frequent flyer miles for a free flight. The only problem was that Allyson didn't have her move-in date, so I had to delay making the reservations. Then, time got away from me and before I knew it, I was under three weeks out from my departure. At this point, there were no available reward flights. 

Unperturbed, I searched for a flight on Spirit, the budget Airlines we used on our $55 flights to Indiana in August. My hopes were dashed, though; there were no Spirit flights listed for Seattle. The only airline remotely in my budget was Frontier, which has an even worse reputation than Spirit. Still, the cheapest fare on Frontier was $276, a decent price, but a far cry from $55. 

Allyson Just Before She and Bill Embarked on the Very Long Drive

It occurred to me to skip the trip because I didn't know how helpful I'd actually be. But Allyson had said it was very important to her that both of her parents be there for this milestone. All of this frantic searching occurred during my trip to lovely Vermont to visit a Girl Scout friend, Allison, whom I have known since first grade. As we trekked from one quirky tourist attraction to another on what her family lovingly calls The Death March of Fun, I had a cell signal approximately 25 percent of the time, and I was desperate to secure the tickets before they were gone. So I turned to my personal travel agent, my budget-savvy little sister, Emily. Over a series of sporadically delivered texts and phone calls between myself, Emily, and my other travel companion, Diana, we managed to purchase the tickets. 

"Are you sure you're okay with just a personal item?" Emily asked. "It's over $50 each way if you take a carry-on." I said that for a four-day trip, I figured I could manage with a standard backpack, just as I had on the longer Indiana trip. 

I made up some of this unanticipated travel cost by booking a shockingly cheap Airbnb, a single room with a shared living area, kitchen, and bathroom(!) for just $56 a night. I'd never stayed in a facility with a shared bathroom, but the next cheapest option would have cost more than double. After reading every single one of the reviews, all positive, I clicked Reserve, resolving not to mention the details of my accommodations to my mother until after my safe return. 

Finding a cheap rental car was easy. I used my American Airlines AAdvantage membership to secure the discounted rate of $242.10 for four days—a steal! 

The final phase of my budget travel planning was the most challenging: planning a menu consisting of cheap food that I could pack into a lunch bag the size of an average purse. On the Wednesday night before my departure, I made Buffalo chicken in my mini slow cooker while I boiled two eggs, baked my favorite gluten-free sandwich bread, and whipped up a batch of chia pudding, which I topped with some frozen pomegranate arils. While the bread baked, I carefully tucked a pair of casual pants, a hoodie, a pullover sweater, two nighties, some socks, and a stack of panties into my backpack. I figured I could wear the cardigan and the fleece jacket that I would need in the much cooler Northern climate, rather than carrying them in my bag. 

Mi casa tica / My Costa Rican House

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO

In November, I visited Costa Rica for the third time. I had planned to share many stories, but time got away from me. Here are a couple of stories that I've been working on here and there for weeks, and I hope to find time for more soon. As usual, I will write my stories in Spanish and then translate them to English so you can see my progress. Note that all grammar errors in the dialogue are mine. If you speak Spanish, you may also notice that I use the informal verb forms when I talk with Zeidy even though I call her usted (the formal word for you). This is the custom in Costa Rica. Everyone there is usted, even spouses, babies, and dogs. This is seen as a sign of respect. Yet most people use the verb forms and pronouns for tú in conversation, probably for clarity because the subjects of sentences are almost always omitted. This mixing of usted and tú used to drive me crazy and keep me confused, but I've learned to just go with it. (Honestly, I make so many other errors that this doesn't matter anyway.)

ENGLISH TRANSLATION AT BOTTOM

En noviembre visité Costa Rica por tercera vez. Tenía planeado compartir muchas historias, pero el tiempo se me escapó. Aquí hay unas historias en las que he estado trabajando durante unas pocas semanas, y espero encontrar tiempo para más pronto. Como de costumbre, voy a escribir mis historias en español y luego las traducir al inglés para que las personas que no hablan español puedan ver mi progreso. Si hablas español, probablemente puedes notar que uso las formas verbales informales cuando hablo con Zeidy aunque la llamo usted. Esta es la costumbre en Costa Rica. Todos allí son ustedes, incluso esposos, bebés y perros. Esto se ve como una señal de respeto. Sin embargo, la mayoría de la gente usa las formas verbales y los pronombres para tú en una conversación, probablemente para mayor claridad porque casi siempre se omiten los sujetos de las oraciones. En el pasado, esta mezcla de tú y usted me volvía loca y me confundía, pero he aprendido a dejar de seguir las reglas gramaticales. (En verdad, cometo tantos otros errores que esto no importa.)

[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

Durante este viaje, no asistí la escuela de español, pero ciertamente aprendía a través de la inmersión.  Me quedé por dos semanas con mi amiga Zeidy, la hija de Doña Macha, con quien me había quedado durante mis otros viajes. Aunque dos años habían pasado, inmediatamente este lugar me sentí como mi hogar. Que extraño, porque toda allá es tan diferente, un mundo separado. 

Doña Macha, yo, Zeidy

La casa de Zeidy está un poco grande en comparación con otras, con tres habitaciones, una grande sala, una cocina pequeña y dos baños.  Cada cuarto tiene ventanas con pequeños rectángulos de vidrio que giran en bisagras como una persiana veneciana, y estas ventanas están siempre abiertas, aún cuando hay lluvia.  

No hay mosquiteros, y los bichos y las iguanas entran libremente. A veces, también entran los gatos pequeños como esta dulce gatita que se llama Cat (el apodo para Katerina). 

Casi todas las noches, Cat salió a través de la ventana de Zeidy y entró a través de mi ventana.  Se sentó en mi pecho o envolvió alrededor de mi cuello y durmió conmigo hasta la mañana.  Aunque usualmente prefiero no dormir con mascotas, me sentí tan cómoda con ella. Me recordé de mis gatas Arwen y CiCi, y me hizo que sentir como en casa.  En verdad, Cat era casi tan traviesa que CiCi: a ella le gusta que comer las flores artificiales y que cavar en el suelo de las muchas plantas verdes alrededor de la casa.

Adventures of a Crazy Foreign Lady (Aventuras de una Extranjera Loca)

Unchained...

Sometimes you have to break all of your own rules. 

This is the story of what happens when a perfectly ordinary woman lets the chains of her fear drop to the ground. It’s the story of how knowing that you are deeply loved can set you free to live the adventure of a lifetime. 

On Saturday, June 8, I returned to the most beautiful place on earth for my second Spanish language immersion trip to Costa Rica. After weathering the most trying year of my life as a seventh-grade teacher in an inner city school, I was looking forward to a tranquil, uneventful month of gazing at trees, flowers, butterflies, and birds and eating lots of rice and beans with my beloved familia Tica (Costa Rican family).

With a sense of coming back home, I slipped into the familiar routine of riding the bus to Spanish lessons each morning and then spending the evening with Macha, Mecho, and Laura.

Mecho

Laura

Macha

Tour of House and Barrio (Neighborhood)

Leftie waits at the bus stop every morning with us.

Dios Movió La Montaña

¿Sabe cómo la gente dice "literalmente" cuando, en verdad, dice figuradamente? ¿Por ejemplo, "Yo era literalmente al final de mi cuerda"? Este no es un tiempo así.

El martes, tres días atrás, Dios literalmente movió una montaña para mí, para mover otra montaña fuera de mi vida.

Por muchas semanas antes de mi viaje a Costa Rica, Juan había sido orando sobre mis temores. Él me dijo, "No es la voluntad de Dios que tengas miedo."

Yo le dije, "Mis inseguridades son un parte de mi personalidad. Siempre lucho con ansiedad cuando cosas estresantes ocurren, pero todo está bien. Dios me ayuda cada vez. Yo medito en las promesas en su Palabra, y Dios me calma."

Juan no acordaba. Aunque yo estaba demasiado orgullosa que lo admita, sabía que Juan tenía razón. En secreto, me pregunté, "¿Cómo podría Dios me libere de mi miedo? "

Un día, este versículo tocó mi corazón: "Porque de cierto os digo que cualquier que dijere a este monte: Quítate y échate en el mar, y no dudare en su corazón, sino creyere que será hecho lo que dice, lo que diga le será hecho." (Marcos 11:23)

Yo dije, "Mi montaña es miedo. Por favor, Padre, mueve la montaña de miedo de mi vida."

Aún así, pensé, "¿Cómo es posible?"

The Best Unanswered Prayer

About a year ago, I endured a bitter disappointment. Over spring break, I made arrangements to fly to Guatemala for a Spanish language immersion program that seemed absolutely perfect for my needs and my priorities. The program combined the school with mission work, and all the proceeds benefited the small mountain village where I would be staying. I was a little put off by the admonition not to drink the water or even to use it for brushing my teeth, but I was more than a little excited about experiencing a primitive way of life. Part of my room and board would cover laundry service... washed in a lake! I figured I would try my hand at doing a bit of laundry just so I could see what it was like for my ancestors.

The week before, I had run several errands in order to update my passport. I was so proud of myself for getting that business taken care of months ahead of time.

In under a week, my new passport arrived! I couldn't believe the efficiency of our government (this time). Inside the package was a pamphlet with instructions for registering my trip so that the embassy would know where to find me in the event of a natural disaster or other emergency. Immediately, I went online and registered. At the end of the process, a travel advisory message filled the screen: "The U.S. government strongly advises travelers to reconsider travel plans to this location." I clicked a link for details about travel advisory level 3 (on a scale of 4).

I was horrified to read about violence on the highways out of Guatemala City, where criminals sometimes set up roadblocks and shoot people before taking all of their belongings. I knew that my fair skin and blue eyes would mark me as a tourist, and that traveling alone as a female could also make me a target.

I literally felt nauseated. I had just spent $900 on a nonrefundable ticket and paid a $50 deposit to the school. For two days, I'd been imagining myself living in that lovely mountain village, pounding my clothes against the rocks at the edge of the brilliant blue lake. Maybe I could just go. The village itself seemed quite safe, and I'd be arriving in the daylight. Surely I could get in and out of Guatemala City without incident.

The words echoed in my mind: "Strongly advises... reconsider travel plans."

If I decided to go, I knew I'd have to lie to my mama. Worrying about her daughter in a foreign country for three weeks would have been bad enough, but throwing government warnings into the mix might just kill her.

Algo Mejor / Something Better

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...

[Here is my last bilingual travelogue for a while. School has started and I'm horribly busy with teaching now. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Aquí está mi último travelogue bilingüe por un tiempo. La escuela ha empezado y estoy terriblemente ocupada con la enseñanza ahora. Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

Muy temprano una mañana, oí una voz masculine y desconocida. Me levanté y me vestí, y entonces me apuré a la cocina.

Allí conocí a un hombre mayor que se parecía a Mecho. Estaban sentados a la mesa, hablando y comiendo.

“¿Es su hermano?” le pregunté a Mecho.

El sonreió. “Sí.”

Le di la mano al hombre y dije, “Me llamo Sarah.”

Él miró a su hermano. Mecho repitío mis palabras. (Aperentemente, mi acento es muy fuerte.)

“Ah. Mi nombre es Israel, pero todos me llaman Lulu,” dijo.

“Oh. Me gusta mucho su nombre… Israel. Y tambien Lulu.”

Lulu reió.

Como de costumbre, no podía entender la conversación de otras personas, pero esto no me molestó. Miré a y escuché a los hermanos y comí mi desayuno con tranquilidad.

Después del desayuno, ellos fueron afuera, donde  Mecho hábilmente le cortó el cabello de Lulu.

“Mecho, usted tiena muchas habilidades diferentes,” dije en mi discurso lento y cuidadoso.

Un Tipo Diferente de Aventura / A Different Kind of Adventure

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...

[This is not your typical travelogue, but an important part of my story in Costa Rica. For this bilingual series, I compose the story in Spanish and then translate into English so that we can see my progress in learning the language. (By the way, I'm back home now. It was a difficult adjustment.) Disclaimer: All grammar errors in the dialogue are my responsibility.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

¿Se preguntaba sobre que pasó con Walter? Me preguntaba tambien; pensaba sobre esto mucho. 

El domingo siguiente mi tour de su campo, Zeidy y yo debíamos tener una cita en su casa. Recordé el consejo de mi amiga Kim el día antes mi viaje: “Pinta sus uñas. Quizás tú vas a conocer al amor de su vida.”

“No tengo tiempo,” he contestado. 

“Si conoces a un hombre guapo, vas a desear que había pintado sus uñas.”

Decidí que corro el riesgo.

Por el Borde / Over the Edge

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO 

[Here is another bilingual travelogue entry about my trip to Costa Rica for a Spanish Immersion program.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS. 

En la tarde del día cuando visité a Turrialba, hice un excursión con mi profesora, Karen.  Pensé que este canopy tour habían solamente cables, pero la experiencia incluyó más.

Una sorpresa esperó para mí: ¡Antes el primer cable, debemos hacer rappel debajo de una catarata! Nuestro guía nos mostró el proceso y me explicó en inglés. 

Entonces, él me dijo, "¿Está lista? ¡Vaya!" Él pusó mi hombro suavemente.

No podía cambiar de parecer. La situación era misma que mi viaje entiro; aquí, nunca sé exactamente que va a pasar, pero he aprendido que tener confianza. Siempre, todo es bueno. 

Un Tour de Turrialba / A Tour of Turrialba

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO

[This is my fifth bilingual travelogue entry, chronicling both my travel experiences and my progress with Spanish in a Costa Rican language immersion program. Note that all grammar errors in the dialogue are mine.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

El día siguiente el día cuando conocí Walter, Amable, y el Chihuahua, mi profesora Karen me dio un tour de Turrialba, la ciudad más cerca de mi pueblo de Tuis. En el autobús, hablábamos sobre nuestras vidas. El bus iba muy lleno, y a mí costó concentrar porque las personas me apretaron.

Un Día Sin Lágrimas / A Day Without Tears

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO 

[Here is my fourth bilingual travelogue entry about my experiences in a Spanish immersion program in Costa Rica. If you can read Spanish, please note that all grammar errors in the dialogue belong to me.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Todos de errores gramaticales en el diálogo son mios.]

En mi sexto día en Costa Rica conocí a unos amigos nuevos. Estaba hablando con Zeidy, la hija de Macha, y ella me invitó que acompañarla. No supe dónde, pero estaba feliz de ver cosas nueva.

"Vamos a ir a un lugar muy bonito," ella dijo.

Manajamos arriba una carretera estrecha con muchas curvas y rocas. Traté de concentrar en nuestra conversación y no me preocupé por mi seguridad.

Muchos Niños Lloran / Many Children Cry

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...

[This is the third in a series of bilingual travelogue entries, a record of my progress in a Spanish Immersion program.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS...

En mi tercero día en Costa Rica, escuela comienzó. Estaba nerviosa sobre el autobús, pero mi mamá Tica caminó conmigo y le dijo a el conductor donde yo necesité ir.

En el bus hubo tres profesoras de mi escuela, CISA. Caminamos en la misma vía del día pasado. El edifício sirve para escuela, misión, y iglesia.

Aquí encontré a 11 perros que viven con el director, Héctor. Ellos siempre entran a escondidas. ¡A veces trepan por las ventanas!

Inicié en una clase intermedia con cuatro otros estudiantes. Todas las instrucciónes estuvieron en español. Estuvo como el sermón de Hector en el día pasado. Las palabras fluyeron sobre mi cabeza pero no entraron mis pensamientos. Sin embargo, hoy debí concentrar. ¿ Cómo pude aprender si no entendí las instrucciones?

Quise llorar, pero no. Sólo me senté en la silla y sonreí.

Después almuerzo, asistí un clase intensiva. Nosotros practicamos verbos reflexivos.

Después mi clase, yo fui a la parada con una profesora, Malli. Llegabamos diez minutos después el bus salió. El proximo bus fue a llegar en cincuenta minutos, y yo debí esperar sola.

Pregunté a Malli, "¿Cómo le digo el conductor donde necesito ir?"

Malli me explicó, pero no comprendé porque estuve inquieta. Ella repetía sus instrucciones, pero yo todavía no entendí. Ella escribía en mi cuaderno:

Yo dije, "¿Debo...?" Me levante el brazo y bajé un cable imaginario.

"Sí," ella contestó.

"¿Cómo sé cuando necesito...? Todavía no sabía el verbo.

"Después del puenta."

"¿El puente? ¿Dónde?"

Inicié llorar. "Disculpe," dije, y cubrí mis ojos. "Tengo miedo."

"Es normal," ella me dijo. "Quizás puede llamar un taxi."

"Pero no sé cómo que decir dónde la casa esta. Quizás camino. Pienso que puedo encontrar la casa si camino."

"Pero esta lejos, y esta lloviendo."

"¿Llovi... la lluvia?"

"Sí."

A mí me parecía que la carretera fue peligrosa. Fue estrecha y los carros manejaron rápidamente. Normalmente, disfruto caminar, per no quise mormirme en este día.

"OK. Por favor, me ayuda que llamar un taxi."

Malli  llamó a Ariel, el nieto de Macha, y él llamó un taxi.

"Sólo diga, 'La casa de Doña Macha, por favor,' " Malli me dijo.

No necesité decir algo porque el conductor llegó en cinco minutos. Malli le dio las instrucciónes.

Después tres minutos, estuve en mi casa.

En la cocina, dije a Macha, "A mí me hace falta mi autobús." Estuve orgullosa para usando un estructura de mi clase intensiva. Ahora, sé la correcta oración: "Perdí mi autobús."

"No sé cómo que decir dónde..." Lloré de nuevo. "Disculpe."

"No llore," Macha dijo. "Es normal. Es su primer día." Ella me abrazó.

Ahora yo reí, tan duro que casi no puedo hablar.  "Sí, muchos niños lloran en su primer día en escuela."

Soy normal.
=========================

On my third day in Costa Rica, school started. I was nervous about the bus, but my Tica Mama walked with me, and she told the bus driver where I needed to go.

On the bus were three teachers from my school, CISA. We walked the same route from the day before. The building serves as school, mission, and church.

Here I encountered 11 dogs that live with the director, Hector. They always sneak in. Sometimes they climb through the windows!

I started an intermediate class with four other students. All of the instruction was in Spanish. It was like Hector's sermon on the past day. The words flowed over my head but did not enter my thoughts. However, today I must concentrate. How could I learn if I could not understand the instruction?

I wanted to cry, but no. Instead, I sat in my chair and smiled.

After lunch, I attended an intensive class. We practiced reflexive verbs.

After my class, I went to the bus stop with a teacher, Malli. We arrived 10 minutes after the bus left. The next bus was going to arrive in 50 minutes, and I must wait alone.

I asked Malli, "How do I tell the driver where I need to go?"

She explained it to me, but I did not understand because I was very anxious. She repeated her instructions but I still did not understand. She wrote in my notebook:

To La Selva (The Jungle), please. You can stop where Aldemar or after the La Selva bridge." [I still don't quite understand the instructions.]

"Must I...?" I raised my arm and pulled an imaginary cable.

"Yes," she answered.

"How do I know when I need to...?"  I still didn't know the verb.

"After the bridge."

"The bridge? Where?"

I started to cry. "I'm sorry,"  I said, and covered my eyes. "I have fear."

"It's normal," she said. "Maybe you can call a taxi."

"But I don't  know how to say where my house is. Maybe I walk. I think I can find the house if I walk."

"No, it's far. And it's raining."

It appeared to me that the road was dangerous. It was narrow, and the cars drove rapidly. Normally, I enjoy walking, but I did not want to die on this day.

"Okay, please help me call a taxi."

Malli called Ariel, Macha's grandson, and he called a taxi.

"Just say, 'Doña Macha's house, please,' " Malli told me.

I didn't need to say anything, because the driver arrived in five minutes. Malli gave him the instructions.

I dried my eyes and hugged Malli.

After three minutes, I was in my house. In the kitchen, I said to Macha, "To me it happened that my bus was missing."  I was proud for using a structure from my intensive class. Now I know the correct sentence: "I lost my bus." [It is an idiom that we don't use in English.]

"I don't know how to say where..." I cried again. "I'm sorry"

"Don't cry," Macha said. "It's normal. It is your first day."

Now I laughed, so hard that I almost couldn't talk. "Yes, many children cry on their first day of school."

I am normal.

El Peor... y El Mejor

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO.

[In this series of blog entries, I am writing about my experiences in a Spanish Immersion program in Costa Rica. I write first in Spanish, and then I translate it as faithfully as possible into English. This way, we can see my progress. You may notice that I am now using past tense. I must confess that the Spanish portion alone took me about five hours to write.  This is great practice for me. I can write much better than I can speak. In conversation, I typically move back and forth between present and past tense, and my speech is painfully slow. I am having the time of my life! I have three more stories to tell you so far.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS

En mi segundo día en Costa Rica me llevanté muy temprano porque la luz comienza que brillar antes las cinco. Antes desayuno,  me senté en el porche y leí mi nueva Biblia bilingüe. Fue mi primera vez que leer la Biblia en español, y ahora yo me di cuenta como glorioso es que escuchar la voz de Dios en otra idioma. Esto versículo tocó mi corazón:

Te alabaré, oh Jehová, entre los pueblos; a ti cantaré salmos entre las naciones.

"¡Es cierto!" yo pensé. " Hoy, voy a cantar con mis hermanos Ticos."

Corrí a Macha y la mostré el versículo. Ella me abrazó.

A las 9:30, fuimos para autobús a la iglesia.  Debemos caminar en una colina y en una calle con muchas rocas. Con la humedad, me sentí muy caliente.

En la iglesia, me tomé mi segundo taza de café y me comí unos postres. ¡Que rico!

Mientras nosotros cantamos, comprendí casi todo porque hay palabras en una pantalla. La primera canción tiene una oración sobre la gente cantando ante las naciones.

Toque hombro de macha y señale a la pantalla. Pienso que ella tenía lágrimas en sus ojos, como yo. ¡Dios estaba hablando conmigo!

A mí me parací que Dios eligió todas las canciones para mí. Una tenió frases de mi favorito capítulo: Salma 139. El mensaje era que Dios me conoce mejor que cualquier otro, y Él está conmigo en cada lugar. No estaba sola aquí, donde la idioma es diferente. Yo estaba tan feliz. !Que bueno, esto día!

Cuánto el sermon comienzó, no comprendí nada. Hay no palabras que leer. El pastor decía muchas cosas, y después unos pocos minutos no traté de comprender. Sólo pensé sobre necesitando agua. Me sentí caliente y fría, y también más y más mareada.

Fui al baño y oré, "Por favor, no me permite que vomitar. Aquí no, en esta iglesia desconocida."

Me senté en el piso por un tiempo muy largo, hasta Macha vino a la puerta con su hija Vicky.

Ella dijo "¿Sarah, está enferma? Abre la puerta, por favor."

¡Ay! No quierí ver nadie, solo quizás mi mamá. ¡Que malo, esto día!

Fuí en mis rodillas al puerto. Macha me da manzanilla, un té por ayudar de digestión.

"¿Me causar vomito?" yo pregunté.

"Quizás," ella contestó.

"Necesito vomitar, pero no puedo."

Tomé un poquito. Entonces dije, "¡Go!" (No podía recordar cómo hablar español en ese momento.) Moví mi mano hacia la puerta.

Ellos cerraron la puerta.

Mi cuerpo tratío y tratío de vomitar, pero nada. Gemí, y agua llenó mis ojos. "Esto día no puede ser peor," yo pensé.

Por supuesto, podria ser peor.

¡El pastor, Hector, entró el baño! Con papel de baño, suavemente limpió el maquillaje aldredor mis ojos - cómo la máscara de un mapache. Habló conmigo en inglés.

"Voy a manajarla a la casa. Su va a ser más cómoda allí.

Hector en la iglesia (y escuela)

"No puedo ir," contesté en español. "Estoy muy inferma."

Él continuó hablar en inglés. "Voy a darla algo que se sienta mejor."

"Necesito una bolsa porque quizás vomito en su carro."

Él me dio una bolsa de plástico.  Me senté en una silla.

Él puso unos aceites esenciales en mis manos. "Huela profundamente."

Inhalé unas veces. Después cerca 30 segundos, corrí al baño. Vomité y vomité hasta no quedó nada.

Después unos minutos, salimos. La calle fue tan áspero, pero no vomité más.

Muchas vezes durante la tarde, dormí y entonces me desperté. Me llevanté unas veces, pero me sentí náuseas de nuevo.

A las siete, tuve hambre pero tuve miedo que comer. Quieré galletas de soda, pero no sabía cómo describirlos.

¡En la cocina, Macha me ofreció galletas de soda! También me da agua de gelatina. Cuando era una niña, mi mamá me da estos dos cosas por enfermedad.

Dios es muy bueno. Él me dio otra madre cuando más la necesitaba.

Sí, era un buen día.

Yo y Mateo, nieto de Macha.
Su fiesta fue en misma noche

On my second day in Costa Rica I got up very early because the light starts to shine before 5. Before breakfast I sat on the porch and read my new bilingual Bible. It was my first time to read the Bible in Spanish, and now I realized how glorious it is to hear the voice of God in another language.

This verse touched my heart:

I will praise you, oh Jehovah, among the peoples;  I will sing praises to you among the nations.

"It is true," I thought. Today I'm going to sing with my Tico brothers and sisters. [Costa Ricans are called Ticos and Ticas.]

I ran to Macha and showed her the verse. She hugged me.

At 9:30 we went by bus to church. We had to walk on a hill and on a road with many rocks. With the humidity, I felt very hot.

At the church I drank my second cup of coffee and ate some pastries. How wonderful!

While we sang, I could understand almost everything because there were words on a screen. The first song had a sentence about the people singing among the Nations.

I touched Macha's shoulder and pointed at the screen. I think she had tears in her eyes, like me.

It seemed to me that God chose all of the songs for me. One had phrases from my favorite chapter: Psalm 139. The message was that God knows me better than anyone else, and he is with me in every place. I was not here alone, where the language is different. I was so happy. How good, this day!

When the sermon began, I comprehended nothing.  There were no words to read. The Pastor said many things, and after a few minutes I did not try to understand. I only thought about needing water. I felt hot and cold, and also more and more dizzy. I went to the bathroom and prayed, "Please, don't let me vomit. Not here in this unfamiliar church."

I sat on the floor for a long time, until Macha came to the door with her daughter Vicky.

She said, "Sarah are you sick? Open the door, please."

Aiyee!  I didn't want to see anyone, except maybe my mama. How bad, this day!

I went to the door on my knees. Macha gives me manzanilla, a tea that helps digestion.

"To cause me vomit?" I asked [in broken Spanish.]

"Maybe," she answered.

"I need to vomit, but I can't."

I drank a little. And then I said, "Go!" ( I could not remember how to speak Spanish in that moment.)  I moved my hand toward the door.

They closed the door.

My body tried and tried to vomit, but nothing. I moaned, and water filled my eyes.

"This day cannot be worse," I thought.

Of course, it could be worse.

The pastor, Hector, entered the bathroom! He knelt beside me. With toilet paper, he gently washed the makeup from around my eyes--like a racoon's mask.

He talked with me in English. "I will drive you home. You will be more comfortable there."

"I cannot go," I answered in Spanish. "I am very sick."

He continued to talk in English. "I will give you something to make you feel better."

"I need a bag because maybe I vomit in your car."

He gave me a plastic bag. I sat in a chair. He put some essential oils in my hands. "Breathe deeply," he said.

I inhaled a few times. After about 30 seconds, I ran to the bathroom. I vomited and vomited, until nothing remained.

After a few minutes, we left. The road was very rough, but I did not vomit more.

Many times during the afternoon, I slept and then I woke up. I got up a few times, but I felt nauseated again.

At seven, I was hungry, but I had fear to eat.  I wanted soda crackers, but I did not know how to describe them.

In the kitchen, Macha offered me soda crackers! Also gelatin water. When I was a girl, my Mama gave me these two things for sickness.

God is very good. He gave me another Mother when I needed her most.

Yes, it was a good day.

Aventuras en Costa Rica

For this series of blog entries, I will describe my experiences in a Spanish Immersion program in Costa Rica. I will write the stories in Spanish and then translate into English as faithfully as possible. My Spanish is not very good yet, so expect errors in grammar and especially verb tenses. I speak only in present tense currently. Also, I don't know how to type accents on my phone. Also, I cannot see the uploaded photos on my phone so they may not be the right ones.

Llego en San Jose en el sabado pasado. Comienzo hablar en Espanol inmediatamente. La agenta de inmigracion me comprende bastante bien. Un hombre amable que trabaja para el aeropuerto me ayuda que busco a mi conductor, se llama Ronnie. El y su esposa me manaja a Tuis, cerca Turrialba. Un otra estudiante viaje conmigo en la camioneta.

El trafico esta horrible. La carretera es pequeno, y hay muchos carros. La vista de las montanas es muy bonita, con muchos arboles y flores. Durante el viaje, hablamos principalmente en ingles.

Las casas son diferentes aqui

Mi familia en Tuis es muy amable. La madre, se llama Macha, sabe un pequeno ingles, pero hablamos casi todo en espanol. Cuando no estoy demasiado nerviosa, puedo comunicar la mayoria que quiero hablar.

Macha vive con su esposo, Mecho. Estan casado por 52 anos. Su hija adulta, Laura, vive con ellos. Ella es muy dulce.

Macha y Laura

Macha tiene mucha paciencia. Repete sus palabras muchos tiempos y habla despacio. A veces usa sus manos por me ayuda que comprendo. Macha canta con frequencia. No comprende las palabras, pero me da alegria. Tambien me alegra que su lee la Biblia. En su voz, la Palabra de Dios vive!

La casa es muy linda. (Es la casa blanca en el foto. Otro foto es mi calle-muy pequena.) Tiene muchos flores y mariposas con colores diferentes, tambien muchos  tipos de pajaros. Hay un perico que come galletas!

Daniel

Mi cuarto es bastante grande por mi. Me encanta la cocina, que tiene paredes rosas. Es tiene una moda de tiempos pasados. Es tranquila. Y la comida es muy bien!

Mi primer dia estoy mas facil que penso, pero no mi segundo dia. Pero es un otro cuento....

I arrive in San Jose on the past Saturday. I start to speak Spanish immediately. The immigration agent understands me well enough. A kind man who works for the airport helps me look for my driver, named Ronnie. He and his wife drive me to Tuis, near Turrialba. Another student travels with me in the van.

The traffic is horrible! The highway is small and there are many cars. The view of the mountains is very beautiful with many trees and flowers. During the trip we speak mainly in English.

My family in Tuis is very friendly. The mother, who is called Macha, knows a little English, but we speak almost completely in Spanish. When I am not too nervous, I can communicate the majority of what I want to say.

Macha lives with her husband, Mecho. They are married 52 years. Their adult daughter, Laura, lives with them. She is very sweet.

Macha has a lot of patience. She repeats her words many times and speaks slowly. Sometimes she uses her hands to help me understand.

The house is very beautiful. It has many flowers and butterflies with different colors, also many types of birds. There is a parrot who eats cookies!

My room is big enough for me. I am enchanted with the kitchen, which has pink walls. It has a style from times past. It is peaceful. And the food is very good!

My first day is easier than I think but not my second day. But that is another story...

A Milestone for Amy

A week ago today, my sister Amy achieved a milestone that she had been anticipating for nearly a year: completing an 11-day road trip to Indiana for a family reunion. Amy suffered a massive stroke in March of 2016, and she is nearly paralyzed on her left side. She initially received top-notch rehabilitation that restored much of her function. She learned to walk with a cane, feed herself, speak clearly, and do basically anything else that you can do with one hand. But when her insurance company decided that she was finished with rehab, her recovery hit a plateau. She's been living with our parents for the last year and a half, and the only therapy she receives is stretching exercises with Mom, who can be a tough taskmaster.

A couple of months ago, she underwent an experimental stem cell treatment using cells from her own body. (Our former brother-in-law, James, provided this treatment at no cost.) Since then, Amy has increased flexibility in her hip and is now able to extend her curled fingers by bending her wrist with her other hand. Her concentration is also improving, and she now reads murder mysteries and even dreams about math.

Our brother Rick strives to push Amy past her limits. He takes her out frequently and brings her home for dinner, and he always insists that she walk rather than use her wheelchair. His front and back porches have a small step, and she has become proficient in navigating those obstacles.

But this Indiana trip challenged Amy on a whole new level. We started with approximately 16 hours of driving over the course of two days. Traveling in a caravan of 12 with passengers ranging in age from 3 to 87, we made a lot of stops. It was a far cry from Dad's idea of a road trip: waking a couple of hours before dark and driving straight through, with everyone holding their pee until we had to stop and fill up or get fast food. No, this time we stopped every hour to hour and a half, and each stop took 15-30 minutes. At every stop, Amy laboriously pulled herself to her feet and walked across parking lots and through truck stops, up hills and down rest-stop sidewalks. This helped ease the pain from her stiff muscles, but all that walking wore her out and made her back hurt because of the way her limp shoulder hangs down.

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Ten days ago, in the middle of my workday, I received a text that made my heart sink. My 33-year-old cousin Adam had passed away unexpectedly. My first reaction was sharp pain as I thought of my Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. Ever since I've been a mother, hearing about the loss of anyone's child tears at my own heart because I can't help putting myself in their shoes.

My second reaction was regret. I had been out of contact with Adam for a couple of years, and he'd been on my mind that very week. I wondered how he was doing and thought that I should send him a letter to catch him up on all of my teaching adventures. I'd had similar thoughts off and on for a long time, and now I was kicking myself for not taking the time when I had the chance. 

Although Adam was 14 years younger than me and lived 1100 miles away in Indiana, I was probably closer to him than to any of my other 25 first cousins. Our friendship began in 2011 when Aunt Sue asked several family members to write Adam while he was in prison. Through the influence of a chaplain, he had grown closer to Christ in prison and had a strong faith, but he was lonely and sometimes discouraged by the poor conditions he encountered there. 

A recent picture. Don't his eyes draw you in?

Best Days of My Life

This past Friday evening, aboard a sunset dolphin cruise in Destin, Florida, I was feeling pretty melancholy because it was already the last night of our much-awaited beach vacation, a graduation celebration for Ethan and my niece Hillary. I'd been longing for a quiet week to rest, lie on the sugar sand, and maybe walk along the beach with my Beloved. But somehow, all six days had slipped through my fingers, and I was still waiting for that relaxation I needed so much.

My sister Amy, me, Allyson

Amy, our sister Emily, nephews Charlie and Sam

Charlie, nephew Jacob, brother-in-law Paul, Sam

Nieces Hillary and Savannah, friend Sarah

Charlie and our crazy captain

Just as I was trying to shrug off my dark mood so that I could enjoy the sunset and the sea spray, Summer of 69 started blaring from the very loud, crackly radio. For a moment, I enjoyed the nostalgia as I always do, but then I started thinking about the words: "Those were the best days of my life." And I thought, "What were the best days of my life?"

Vancouver Visit and Family Pasta Night

In my last entry, I mentioned that I've been saving up some happy stories to share. Here they are...

Vancouver 2012
On Christmas day we went for what will most likely be our last family vacation, and probably my last trip to Vancouver as well. For that reason, the whole experience was very bittersweet.

We had a rough start as our plane was initially delayed by about 20 minutes, during which time snow started falling thickly. "Ooh! Look at the pretty snow!" Allyson and I exclaimed. (We don't get much snow in Texas.)

We wouldn't have been so excited had we known that that snow would cause us about a six-hour delay. First, we waited interminably for de-icing. Just when we were next in line, a flight attendant announced that we were returning to the gate. Due to a federal law passed to "protect our comfort," we could not remain on the tarmac more than 2.5 hours. "Merry Christmas," she said wryly.

So we sat at the gate another hour or so while they figured out what to do next. While we ate federally mandated cookies and had a sip of federally mandated water, the flight attendant explained that most of us would probably miss our connections in Seattle, and there was no guarantee we could get a later flight. She cheerfully added that there was no guarantee that we could get a flight the next day, either. And the airlines was not going to pay for accommodations in Seattle since the snow was not their fault. (They conveniently forgot that we would have missed the snow had we departed on time.) Also, if we were to exceed the 2.5 hour maximum wait again, our flight would be canceled. "Merry Christmas," she concluded. About a third of the passengers disembarked, including my seatmate. Sweet! Now it was just me and Ethan in the back row, right across from the toilets that were probably near to overflowing by the end of our ordeal.

We decided to take our chances and stay on the plane. About two hours later,  we were de-iced and in the air! And after about ten hours on the plane, we arrived in Seattle. When we landed, we found we'd been automatically booked on the 11 P.M. flight, about three hours later. But Bill's dad had driven down to pick us up, so we claimed our luggage and climbed in the car for a 2.5-hour drive. I think we all preferred that to boarding another plane.

So we arrived at the house shortly before midnight. Despite the late hour, we sat down for Mom's customary soup and sandwiches. Delicious!

The rest of the trip went much better. The highlight for me was an 85-minute massage at the Harrison Hot Springs Resort, compliments of Mom. This was a wonderful blessing as I'd been longing for a massage for months. I also greatly enjoyed soaking in the hot pools, which were heated by the local hot springs.

Or maybe the highlight was playing cards and dominoes with Bill's family--especially when I beat them all on New Year's Eve.

For the  kids the best part was probably skiing at Hemlock Mountain, where Allyson had her first lesson. She had the 16-year-old instructor all to herself, and he did a great job with her. It must have been rather harrowing for him to ski behind her on the tow rope; she usually ended up sliding backward when she got off, and he had to catch her before she knocked all the other beginners down like dominoes.

 

Looks Like She's Playing Twister

Practicing Her "Pizza" Stance

At the end of 1.5 hours, the instructor pronounced her ready for the easiest chair lift, and Bill bravely took her up. He said she got off the chair easily enough, and then she took off down the mountain at breakneck speed. I guess she forgot her pizza and went with french fries instead. Daddy had told her to sit down if she couldn't stop, so she tried to sit but ended up in a tuck position and went even faster. At last she fell, flipped, and got a face full of snow. (That's the way she tells it, anyway. Bill says it wasn't such a bad fall.)

She'd made it about a third of the way down the slope, but now she was spooked. It took 30 minutes or so to go the rest of the way down because she'd ski about six feet and then make herself fall down. But they finally made it to the bottom, all in one piece.

Allyson's cousin James learned to ski also. Trevor pushed him up the bunny slope over and over, and he fearlessly skied down. For the next day or two, he kept saying, "I love to ski."

James (Age 4) and Bill's Brother Trevor

I'm told Ethan has now totally mastered snowboarding, but I never got to see him this time. I wish I had a picture to share.

We also went walking along the sea wall at White Rock Beach. The kids enjoyed looking for crabs and shells.

Katie, Allyson, James

Katie and Allyson

Mom limited each child to two shells. "Can I keep one, too?" I asked. She smiled and nodded. I had found a lovely purple clam shell. I brought it home as a reminder that--for a clam, at least--a painful bit of sand results in the iridescent beauty of a pearl. I pray beauty comes out of my pain as well.

As always, there was one sumptuous meal after another, plus all our favorite treats, including way too much shortbread. I gained five much-needed pounds while I was there. I also caught up on my sleep. One morning I even slept until 11! I don't remember the last time I slept that late.

I have to share one more airport misadventure that occurred when we landed in Dallas. As we exited the Jetway, I stopped and bent over to put some books into my carry-on bag. I didn't notice that the man ahead of me had stopped also and was bending over to put something in his bag. Nor did I notice that he had about three inches of pasty white butt crack sticking out of the top of his sagging jeans. So when I stood back up, I very nearly put my nose where the sun don't shine! I all but yelped as I backed away. Bill caught my eye, and we both cracked up, so to speak. It felt good to laugh with him.

Family Pasta Night
The night after our return, Allyson and I went over to Uncle Rick's for what I hope was the first of many Family Pasta Nights. Rick and Mindy had prepared the dough ahead of time, and I helped knead it. Then we passed it through all six settings on Mindy's new pasta roller. Allyson manned the crank, and the rest of us took turns feeding the dough in and catching it as it came out.

Here's how it looked on the first setting:

By the last setting, it was 10 or 12 feet long!

Rick, Mindy, and Rick's Friend Dave

Here's how it looked after we cut it into segments and ran it through the cutter attachment: 

We served it with Gorgonzola walnut Alfredo sauce and roasted kale. For dessert we had Purdy's chocolates from Bill's mom. It was all unbelievably delicious, better than a fancy restaurant!

A Quiver Full

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.... (Psalm 127:4-5)
On January10, my beloved grandmother, Verna Ellen Shank Bushong, passed away at the age of 94. She spent her last days in her own home surrounded by all her children. We were thankful that my mom was able to make it up to Indiana to share that time of closeness with the family. (Thank you, thank you to my cousin Darlene for not only giving Mom and Dad buddy passes, but also traveling up with them.)
Because Grandma required 24-hour care, it would have been easier to let her stay in the nursing home, but Aunt Cindi suggested that all her children could care for her at home. And that's what they did, for hours and hours, days and days. They did everything for her, even the unpleasant things. When Grandma apologized, my mom told her, "It is an honor to take care of you." I cried when I heard all of this. I pray I can learn from their example and serve so humbly if the need arises.
I flew up with all three of my sisters (Melody, Amy, Emily), Emily's baby Charlie, and Melody's son Stephen. We all stayed with my Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff, which is always a treat. My favorite part of our stay was visiting in the hot tub late at night with my sisters and my aunt, and even praying together in the hot tub--a first for all of us, I think.

At the funeral on Saturday, several of the kids and grandkids spoke. We spoke of Grandma's love, strength, and enduring faith... and her cinnamon rolls (and peanut butter pie and milkshakes and chicken pot pie, and many other favorites). The thing about Grandma was that she knew everyone's favorite meal or dessert, and she always made it a point to serve it to us when we visited.

I didn't mention this when I spoke, but do you know what I miss most about Grandma right now? Her soft, warm hands. I loved to hold her hand.

Giant Family!
The best part of the eulogies was the poem that my cousin Jolinda read, in which she listed the name of every child, grandchild, great grandchild, and great-great grandchild, along with each of the inlaws. It was staggering to ponder how such a GIGANTIC family could come from just one young couple.

Children - Sue, Cindi, Judy; Mary, Charlie, Dolores (My Mom)

Grandchildren - 21 of 27

Great Grandchildren - 28 of 47

Two of the 14 Great -Greats

More Great-Greats

Lots and Lots of Us

I remember on one of my first visits up to see my inlaws in Vancouver, probably before they were inlaws, I tried to estimate how many grandchildren, great grandchildren, etc., were in the Bushong clan. I think I might have said 75. They thought I was exagerrating. But I underestimated! Counting children, the total number of their progeny was 94. Ninety-four! Can you imagine?

Her Favorite Hymns
I enjoyed singing Grandma's favorite hymns, not usually my style, but absolutely perfect for the occasion. The best was Face to Face; I wasn't the only one sniffling as we pictured Grandma up there in heaven, seeing Jesus face to face at last. What made the songs even better was the fact that my sister Melody was the piano player. She'd been practicing for days on Aunt Sue's very badly tuned antique piano, enduring a fair bit of ribbing over her dubious chords. But she sounded like a pro at the funeral. I know it would have meant so much to Grandma.

Thankfully I haven't had much experience with funeral sermons, but Grandma's was definitely the best I'd heard. I knew that the minister had visited her frequently over the last six months and that he came daily at the end. I also knew that his prayers had been a comfort to Grandma and her children. So it meant a lot to me to know that when he spoke warmly of her, it was from his own experience. He talked about her favorite verse and related that passage of scripture to her life. 

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Phlippians 4:12-13)

To illustrate those times of plenty and times of want, he shared stories from her autobiography, Our Journey Through Life. My favorite was the story of how she once told Grandpa off in their grocery store. At the time, she was taking care of two small children and was still nursing her youngest, Aunt Cindi. Grandpa wanted her to help out at the counter, but she was too busy.

"Your work can wait," Grandpa said.

Grandma stormed into the store and tore into him. "When you married me, you didn't want just a wife, you wanted a housekeeper and a work horse and a milk cow."

Imagine her humiliation when she realized they were not alone in the store! When she had finished her tirade, their friend Royal stepped out from behind a counter with a grin on his face. "Now run through that again," he said. "I want to hear just how that was so I can remember it."

"Oh, shut up!" Grandma said.

I half hoped Pastor Stan might tell the story of how they accidentally ended up in a nudist camp, but I guess that was too racy for a funeral. You'll have to buy the book to read that one.

Another highlight was the slide show that my cousin Callie compiled from hundreds of pictures that the family had emailed. I'm so thankful  for all her hard work and expertise. There were photos of all our families as well as photos of Grandma and Grandpa over the decades. Over the three-hour viewing period on Friday, I sat next to various relatives watching bits and snatches of the Bushong love story. What struck me most was our strong genes. The family resemblance spans multiple generations. 

Young Verna - Looks SO Much Like My Mom!

Here She Looks a Lot Like My Brother's Daughter Mindy

So Handsome! Here Grandpa Looks Like My Cousins Matt and Wes

Wedding Photo
They Sat Painfully Still While Siblings Tried to Make Them Laugh

Love This One of Grandma!
That's Mom (Who Looks a Lot Like My Sister Emily) and Aunt Judy

Laid to Rest
At the graveside ceremony, I wanted to solemnly contemplate the beauty and sorrow of "ashes to ashes, dust to dust." As it turned out, all I could think of was trying to stay warm in the snow which Pastor Stan said Grandma surely must have ordered. (I never knew she liked the snow.)

I had no right to complain; I was one of the lucky ones who managed to crowd into the tent. We were crammed in like circus clowns in a Volkswagen, but that was okay. I enjoyed both the togetherness and the body heat.

A Non-Stop Eating Fest
For five straight days, we gathered with my delightfully, unreasonably gigantic family and gorged ourselves on food and conversation. I particularly enjoyed getting to know some of my younger cousins better, such as the aforementioned Callie (Charlie's daughter).

On our last evening in Indiana, we went to Dad's sister Carol's house for some of her famous homemade ice cream and hot fudge. While we were there, I enjoyed a genteel political debate with Aunt Carol, my brother Rick, and my cousins René and Jenny. It was getting late, and we had to cut it off just when it was getting interesting. But I did learn that Aunt Carol shares many of my views. I'll have to talk with her some more about that sometime.

All in all, it was a most enjoyable celebration of the life of Verna Ellen Bushong. May her heritage live on forever.