“We begin by invading the house of our imaginary American family to strip it of its furniture. Everything goes: beds, chairs, tables, television sets, lamps. We will leave the family with a few old blankets, a kitchen table, a wooden chair. Along with the bureaus go the clothes. Each member of the family my keep in his wardrobe his oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. We will permit a pair of shoes for the head of the family, but none for his wife or children.
We move to the kitchen. The appliances have already been taken out, so we turn to the cupboards...The box of matches may stay, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt. A few moldy potatoes, already in the garbage can, must be rescued, for they will provide much of tonight’s meal. We will leave a handful of onions and a dish of dried beans. All the rest we take away; the meat, the fresh vegetables, the canned goods, the crackers, the candy.
Now we have stripped the house: the bathroom has been dismantled, the running water shut off, the electric wires taken out. Next we take away the house. The family can move in to the tool shed…communications must go next. No more newspapers, magazines, books—not that they are missed, since we must take a way our family’s literacy as well. Instead, in our shantytown we will allow one radio…
Now government services must go next. No more postmen, no more firemen. There is a school, but it is three miles away and consists of two classrooms…there are, of course, no hospitals or doctors nearby. The nearest clinic is ten miles away and is tended by a midwife. It can be reached by bicycle, provided the family has a bicycle, which is unlikely…
Finally, money. We will allow our family a cash hoard of five dollars. This will prevent our breadwinner from experiencing the tragedy of an Iranian peasant who went blind because he could not raise the $3.94 which he mistakenly thought he needed to receive admission to a hospital where he could have been cured.”
Monday, December 20, 2010
subtraction
An excerpt from K.P. Yohannan's Revolution in World Missions by economist Robert Heilbroner, who describes what an American family would have to give up if they lived like the 1 billion hungry people in the “Two-Thirds World:”
fruit?
October 17, 2010
Merhaba! (A Turkish hello, to ya)
So let’s begin with an embarrassing moment, shall we?
My teammates are so great. One of them, in fact, offered to grab me something—anything—that I might need or want since I’m somewhat stranded at the hotel,. For some reason, my first thought in that moment was: bananas. I want bananas. So I asked her for some bananas.
The next day she comes to practice with a bundle of about seven bananas. So kind! I had failed to mention to her, however, that I like greener bananas. They last longer, and brown spots make me gag. But any banana is better than no banana, so I accepted the browning bunch quite happily.
I happened to be quite hungry that night after practice. So that fact coupled with my intense excitement for banana nourishment had me rushing to rip one out of the bunch as soon as I sat down in the car. It was a stubborn little sucker (I blame the “bruised” ego---bahaha), but I just kept pulling harder. Finally, as if laughing with vengeance, the stem released and my knuckle slammed into my bottom lip. OWW! Despite the swelling, I inhaled the yellow fruit, but was thrown when I was later greeted in the mirror by a fat red lip. Wow—really, Tracy? That darn banana made me bleed my own blood!
I did EAT it, however…so does that mean I won?
Moving on…Well, I suppose I am literally “moving on” (possibly on Monday) from the lovely Limak Ambassador Boutique Hotel to my new apartment! This is exciting, and I can’t wait to pass on some pics. When we took a look at it on Saturday, I did think it was funny that the only hot pink apartment complex in the entire ten mile radius was potentially mine. The area felt safe, though, and was really close to one of our gyms.
Speaking of gyms, on Thursday we played a scrimmage match on cement. Okay, it had some padding over it, but my knees shouted otherwise. Anyway, we won 3-1 against a local Division 2 team, and it was a good chance to work out some kinks. I welcomed my first feedback from our head coach about where he wants me lining up with the opponent middle hitter and how to defend when the setter is front row, etc. I realized that operating inside the USA system so deeply this past year made me forget how different opinions and systems can be all over the world. It is one thing to play against them, but quite another to conform to them.
Yes, coach, I will move up for tips (rotation defense) when their opposite is hitting against a double block (twitch), but I will also continue to have my palms up and my elbows straight! I am determined to keep progressing my newly developed USA techniques, and so far the coaches here haven’t tried to deter me.
Sometimes progression is painful, though—especially when it is of the heart and mind. I am being impacted in such a way by a book that was one of those “why not?” additions to my luggage. I never expected Revolution in World Missions by K.P. Yohannan to be so striking to my spirit. So much so, that I typed up the entire fourth chapter in order to share it with you all (which is not a habit of mine, by the way).
To offer some background, K.P. grew up in a small Indian village. Propelled by the prayers of his mother, he felt called at the age of 16 to join a movement of missionaries in sharing the Gospel to his native, unreached neighbors. Years later, a series of miracles made it possible for K.P. to come to Dallas, Texas, for bible school, and this is where chapter four “I Walked in a Daze” begins [see attached].
This chapter slapped me…multiple times. I’ve seen the Third World from a bus window, but it’s almost the same as seeing it on the TV screen—how most of us Americans encounter it. Do we have any clue how great we have it in the States? I think not. I think: definitely NOT.
I don’t share this chapter to guilt everyone, please hear me on that. I just beg you to consider the reality of detriment that is the norm outside of the favor you and I walk in. We are a blessed people and a blessed nation, and that fortune demands responsibility. I am in the process of seeking God about how He wants me in particular to take action in light of such responsibility, and I’m sure it may look a bit different for each of us.
I would love to hear any and all comments, thoughts, and questions as you open your hearts and begin to process this one man’s shocking confrontation with our home turf.
And speaking of confrontation, please also feel free to share any of your own bloody dealings with malicious fruits.
On with the journey….
Merhaba! (A Turkish hello, to ya)
So let’s begin with an embarrassing moment, shall we?
My teammates are so great. One of them, in fact, offered to grab me something—anything—that I might need or want since I’m somewhat stranded at the hotel,. For some reason, my first thought in that moment was: bananas. I want bananas. So I asked her for some bananas.
The next day she comes to practice with a bundle of about seven bananas. So kind! I had failed to mention to her, however, that I like greener bananas. They last longer, and brown spots make me gag. But any banana is better than no banana, so I accepted the browning bunch quite happily.
I happened to be quite hungry that night after practice. So that fact coupled with my intense excitement for banana nourishment had me rushing to rip one out of the bunch as soon as I sat down in the car. It was a stubborn little sucker (I blame the “bruised” ego---bahaha), but I just kept pulling harder. Finally, as if laughing with vengeance, the stem released and my knuckle slammed into my bottom lip. OWW! Despite the swelling, I inhaled the yellow fruit, but was thrown when I was later greeted in the mirror by a fat red lip. Wow—really, Tracy? That darn banana made me bleed my own blood!
I did EAT it, however…so does that mean I won?
Moving on…Well, I suppose I am literally “moving on” (possibly on Monday) from the lovely Limak Ambassador Boutique Hotel to my new apartment! This is exciting, and I can’t wait to pass on some pics. When we took a look at it on Saturday, I did think it was funny that the only hot pink apartment complex in the entire ten mile radius was potentially mine. The area felt safe, though, and was really close to one of our gyms.
Speaking of gyms, on Thursday we played a scrimmage match on cement. Okay, it had some padding over it, but my knees shouted otherwise. Anyway, we won 3-1 against a local Division 2 team, and it was a good chance to work out some kinks. I welcomed my first feedback from our head coach about where he wants me lining up with the opponent middle hitter and how to defend when the setter is front row, etc. I realized that operating inside the USA system so deeply this past year made me forget how different opinions and systems can be all over the world. It is one thing to play against them, but quite another to conform to them.
Yes, coach, I will move up for tips (rotation defense) when their opposite is hitting against a double block (twitch), but I will also continue to have my palms up and my elbows straight! I am determined to keep progressing my newly developed USA techniques, and so far the coaches here haven’t tried to deter me.
Sometimes progression is painful, though—especially when it is of the heart and mind. I am being impacted in such a way by a book that was one of those “why not?” additions to my luggage. I never expected Revolution in World Missions by K.P. Yohannan to be so striking to my spirit. So much so, that I typed up the entire fourth chapter in order to share it with you all (which is not a habit of mine, by the way).
To offer some background, K.P. grew up in a small Indian village. Propelled by the prayers of his mother, he felt called at the age of 16 to join a movement of missionaries in sharing the Gospel to his native, unreached neighbors. Years later, a series of miracles made it possible for K.P. to come to Dallas, Texas, for bible school, and this is where chapter four “I Walked in a Daze” begins [see attached].
This chapter slapped me…multiple times. I’ve seen the Third World from a bus window, but it’s almost the same as seeing it on the TV screen—how most of us Americans encounter it. Do we have any clue how great we have it in the States? I think not. I think: definitely NOT.
I don’t share this chapter to guilt everyone, please hear me on that. I just beg you to consider the reality of detriment that is the norm outside of the favor you and I walk in. We are a blessed people and a blessed nation, and that fortune demands responsibility. I am in the process of seeking God about how He wants me in particular to take action in light of such responsibility, and I’m sure it may look a bit different for each of us.
I would love to hear any and all comments, thoughts, and questions as you open your hearts and begin to process this one man’s shocking confrontation with our home turf.
And speaking of confrontation, please also feel free to share any of your own bloody dealings with malicious fruits.
On with the journey….
eagle-esque
October 12, 2010
So even though I am now “in a Turkey,” it seems that my habits really haven’t changed that much. On this drizzly Tuesday morning I find myself perched in…you guessed it…a coffee shop. Those of you that share in my obsession may be disappointed to know that the one I am in now is indeed a Starbucks. Now, now…In my defense, the coffee is actually not so burnt here, and, really, when there are no other options within my walking radius (be quiet, my “I walked across the USA” brother), this will do just fine.
For the first time I am using a gift from a great friend—a travel coffee mug. It is a deep sea blue that boasts the inscription of Isaiah 40:31:
“My HOPE is in You…those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and now grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
Ironically, a woman did just become faint a moment ago outside the doors of Star-booze. People came rushing in shouting, “Doktor, var?!” (Is there a doctor here?). From the back a woman jogged out the doors towards the fallen woman. The crowd soon dispersed, and the doctor helped the swollen-eyed woman inside for a cup of joe.
I was blessed by the whole interaction. It’s like God allowed me to feel a bit of His heart for His people. When that woman fell, she mattered more to the people around her than themselves. Their schedules and worries were suspended as the call for compassion took over. This, I think, is the posture of our Maker always—ready to lift us up, ready to renew our strength, and calling us to serve our fellow man. If only we would be willing to be a part of what He’s doing and to open ourselves up to the tender leading of His hand.
Hmm….leading. He’s doing that with me here. I’ve had three practices so far with the Kolejliler (Ko-llege ee-lair….I think?) club team. We had a fancy dinner on Sunday night with all the big-wig board members, our team, the men’s volleyball team (Division 2), and the men’s and women’s basketball teams. Yeah, all of them are a part of this club. I was hoping to get to meet the other American who is on the women’s basketball team, but nobody introduced us. I didn’t know exactly who she was, and I was feeling too shy (yeah, me) to poke around to find out.
Anyway, the ladies on my team are cool. I am especially thankful for Nilay (Nee-lai) and Ozge (Ohz-gay), the team captain, who have been extra kind and even goofy! Many of my teammates know English—some eager to practice with me and others too shy to speak. Both assistant coaches, pronounced Bar-roosh and Tai-lan, can speak with me, but the head coach Yusuf communicates only in Turkish. So in practice the young and super energetic Ege (Eh-jay) translates for me.
I still don’t know if I’m staying here in Ankara. I think the tryout is going well so far, but who the heck knows. I feel good about my effort and my attitude and spirit—maxing out on what I can control. I feel like I am making positive connections with the people around me—an overwhelming amount of smiling with “lewt-fen” and “teh-shek-yoo-lar” (please and thank you) always goes a long way, no matter what country you are in!
I don’t know, friends… I can’t help but feel that this trip is going to change me in major ways. I am going to be pushed to discomfort, but as a result of God answering my prayers to go deep into the utmost of Him.
Here’s to being an eagle!
On with the journey…
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