The American lady messed up my homework...

Km Hm Dm m dm cm mm

Do those mean anything to you? … Me neither.

We have an afterschool homework club two days a week and I have been able to help out the past two weeks. I have really enjoyed the time filled with giggles, snacks, and silly questions. But it is not without its complications.

The majority of the schools in the Madrid area boast a bilingual education program. I offered to lend a hand to the program and help out with English homework, especially since several moms had already approached me about helping their children.

Little did I expect that the majority of my time would be spent on Spanish grammar homework and metric conversion math. For the past two days I have been as confused as the kids who have been asking for my help. More than once I have, in a moment of exasperation and fear of leading the child educationally astray, called over one of the Spanish speaking tutors.

Yesterday, I spent a good hour working with a boy on metric conversion charts and warned him that there may be some problems with my answers when he got to school in the morning. He said "Don't worry. I'll just tell them you are American."

I do get the chance to assist with English homework; correct pronunciation, help translate, or quiz are parts of the skeleton (yes, they are all learning the parts of the skeleton/bones in English).

And learn that:

Km = kilometer

Hm = hectameter

Dm = decameter

m = meter

dm = decimeter

cm = centimeter

mm = milimeter

Niños son esponjas.

Children are sponges. At least that’s what everyone keeps telling me…

Who knew schooling would be so difficult? Bram has spent the last week home from school because he has a “fever”. He has no other symptoms of illness. He’s eating, playing, and picking on his brother…all as normal. Which led me to believe perhaps the fever is a symptom of something else? Everyone seems to have a story of how their child had a seeming illness and it turned out to be symptoms of stress or extreme dislike of a situation.

Between both boys, Bram seems to be the most sensitive to the language change we have experienced. Bram started formal school in January primarily in English, after the summer and the move, in October he started another school primarily in Spanish. It’s been a tough switch for him.

Part of me says I know that he will adapt, and that come this time next year he’ll most likely be perfectly fine. But it’s still hard to watch him get stressed out, and not be able to do much about it. We have decided to try and reduce the stress in the areas where we are in control, ie: long Metro rides, plenty of snacks, plenty of rest stops at parks along the way home. And try to be extra encouraging about the things we can’t change: the increase in the Spanish language surroundings, big city-ness, having to cross his legs during story time at school. :)

Part of being an officer’s kid is the possibility of a move when it is least expected. My boys didn’t pick this life, but God picked them for us.

Metro vs. Mommy

It's a never ending stream of people. People rushing past on the left. People running up stairs on the right. And at both ends are massive amounts of stairs with no elevator in sight. And I'm dragging a crying three year old, with a wiggly two year old strapped into a stroller. Needless to say, it's enough to discourage even the strongest of souls.

Jeff is traveling around Spain with a visiting youth band, and I have assumed the role of "Super Mommy". Except without the super. Jeff usually takes our oldest to school on the Madrid Metro each morning, and picks him up. One boy on the Metro is not so bad...it's the combination that's killer.

At just the point when I think I'll just keep Bram home from school the rest of the week rather than do this again, someone will offer to help me carry the stroller up the stairs or offer me a place to sit down on the Metro. It's the little things that really make a difference.

4 days till Jeff comes home...

We're Moving...

The one sure thing in The Salvation Army is that officers will move. We all know this, but I don't think it necessarily makes any of it easier. Because of that though, we have always attempted to make our ministry about empowering the people to see their potential as part of the Kingdom of God, therefore, essentially, making the officer interchangeable to their puzzle.

Our family has received moving orders. We arrive in Madrid next Monday to take up a new post, a new style of life, and all the new possibilities God has in store for us.

It is the quickest move I've ever made in my 6 years of officership, and the first time that I've moved without any expectations of a move. My first move was because I got married, my next move because they closed the appointment I was in, the third because we had applied for overseas service. Those moves all had sadness, but also a sense of preparation on our part. This time it was completely unexpected. My head is still reeling at the magnitude of the change that is about to happen...

After we received the news that we were being re-assigned I had the verse from Jeremiah "I know the plans I have for you" stuck in my head. One early morning, as I'm not sleeping very well lately, I got up and decided to spend the time before sunrise reading that chapter. In it there is a moment when God reminds the Isrealites/Jeremiah that it is HE that decides how long prophets stay and when they go. It was a great reminder that HE is in control of moves in our lives, even when it doesn't seem that way from the outside.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

The Survival Instinct

Yesterday, we picked up Bram from school because we still needed to pay for his uniforms. I picked him up from the classroom, and we walked to the main office to pay at the front desk. The "external relations director" for the school asked me how Bram was doing and if he was enjoying his new school.

It is a common question lately, since he just switched out of a Spanish only system into the bilingual system of this school. It's a loaded question in its response though. Bram is doing amazingly better. He talks about school, his new friends, the stories he's learning, what he ate for lunch, etc. For the first time in 6 months, he is excited about going to school, not simply enduring. And he's actually using Spanish words in context, beyond 'commands'. Tonight he told me he makes lots of sudsy bubbles with his 'javon' (soap).

I think the major difference is the switch from "survival mode" to a comfort range that facilitates learning. In the previous school, Bram never really talked about what they were doing each day perhaps because he was never sure. He was just trying to make sure he didn't get left behind. (I think that given a longer time in the previous system, Bram would have adapted and learned the language well enough to enjoy. It just would have taken time.)

My major lesson in all of this school drama: It's amazing the difference in our personality when we're comfortable. Things that make us nervous and cause us to be unsure put us into an instinctual survival mode. We don't think or enjoy or experience, we simply survive. But when we find ourselves in a place where we can be at emotional rest, so to speak, we can begin to see the whole picture, put things to work, we can enjoy.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28

The Look

As time goes by here in Spain, I have begun to become familiar with a "look". It happens in the following scenario: I'm speaking Spanish, and a strange word slips out. A word that is not quite English, and not quite Spanish, it's a word lost in limbo. And then comes the "look". I don't know what I'm trying to say, the person I'm trying to talk to doesn't know what I'm trying to say, and we're both trying to be polite and simply move on from this limbo word.

For example? Sure...

Yesterday, we were enjoying a lunch with Salvation Army officers on vacation from Barcelona. I was attempting to tell them that there is going to be a clown show on New Year's Eve in our local town square. I know the word for clowns (payasos), but for some reason I simply could not get it out. It kept mangling itself as it tried to free itself of this language limbo. At that point....I got the "look".

Now, it's not a mean look, per say. It's just a look of pity mostly. A look that conveys "I know you're trying really hard, but I simply cannot understand you." The empathy behind the look really depends on the giver. Some people are very patient and understanding, and some simply, well, aren't.

An example of someone who wasn't:

When I worked a summer in Argentina, I lived and worked with a Salvation Army family who knew absolutely no English, I knew bare bones Spanish. (It was a special treat trying to communicate with sign language). There was a moment when I was carrying on a conversation with a small group of people, and I really thought I was doing well, they were nodding their heads, smiling (should have been my first clue, I realize). I reached the end of a phrase and I was really proud of myself, I had just maintained a conversation!! When one older gentlemen looked straight at the officer (pastor) in charge and said "What is this girl trying to say?? I have no idea what she's talking about?? Can someone translate her?"

::sigh::...I would have preferred the look.

A Skype Christmas

The sun is setting on our palm tree Christmas. I'm enjoying a cup of tea, some left over ginger bread cookies from our Christmas Eve service, and just basking in the Mediterrean pace of life that has returned to our household.

We had a wonderful candle light service last night, followed by the annual opening of one gift. It is incredibly difficult to convince toddlers that they cannot eat the large chocolate Santa Clause until tomorrow.

The boys were excited to ride their brand new tricycles. We took a little walk on the boardwalk outside our apartment. It's a balmy 65 degrees today...afterwards we treated ourselves to the Christmas menu at the restaurant below our apartment.

We've skyped all the family, and the boys have ignored the calls, like they usually do. (Getting toddlers to pay attention is a miracle. My mom had their attention when her Scooby Doo Christmas 'thingie' started singing...)

Christmas has come and gone. We've survived the first Christmas away from family. It can be done. Let's try this again next year....

Christmas Carols

We've been doing a lot of Christmas carol singing lately. Our church band has been out playing different events. (Some events a donation for The Salvation Army is even taken up!) We've played for a British Christmas party, the local state run nursing home, the weekly Monday market in town, a restaurant, and later this week we'll play at the port carol sing in a town around the mountain from us.

All of this singing has caused me to reflect on various Christmas songs. There are 3 in particular:

1. "Do They Know It's Christmas?" BandAid.

You know the one, they play it on every Christmas rotation list in the States. It's on at least 2 Christmas CDs I own. You know, the one where you hear Bono scream "Well, thank God it's them insteeeeaaaadddd of yooouuu!"

The lyric that sticks with me is this:

And there won't be snow in Africa
This Christmas time
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life
Where nothing ever grows
No rain nor rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?

Is Christmas only defined by snow and nicely wrapped presents? I will admit this year the Christmas season seems "unseasonal" to me, personally. I'm celebrating Christmas with palm trees out my back door, not 10 feet of snow (which apparently just hit my midwestern friends). But it doesn't make it any less Christmas, right? I'm sure in Africa, no I'm positive, they still celebrate Christmas, it just may look different from mine, or your idea of "Christmas".

Which leads me to the 2nd song:

2. O Come, O Come Emmanuel

O come, O come, Emmanuel

And ransom captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

I think I have a strange 'attraction' to the minor keyed Christmas carols. I LOVE this song. It's always been one of my favorites. It has come to mind many times as I make it through my first Christmas so far away from friends and family. In those moments when I'm feeling lonely and homesick, I remember that this celebrational season is because Emmanuel came for me! So, though at moments I may sit "in lonely exile", those moments when the boys simply will not play together nicely, the cookies burned again, the Christmas tree is falling over, when I miss my family and my "normal", the Son of God will appear (to speak to me through new friends, new traditions, and lots of great coffee) and for that I shall rejoice!

And finally:

3. Noche de Paz (Silent Night, in Spanish)

Noche de paz, noche de amor, Night of peace, night of love
todo duerme en derredor. All around is sleeping
Entre sus astros que esparcen su luz, Between the stars which scatter their light
bella anunciando al niñito Jesús. Beautifully announcing the baby Jesus
Brilla la estrella de paz, Shines the star of peace
brilla la estrella de paz. Shines the star of peace

We sing this song often here. I appreciate how the words are slightly different from the English version. The part that sticks with me this Chistmas is the word "peace". Some how, without the assistance of a major fundraising effort, I have managed to overschedule and exhaust myself this Christmas! And I always thought kettles was to blame. God will often bring this song to mind when I start to think about how I just wish the season would be over with so we could rest again. The point of the season isn't to rush around buying things, or going places, or carting yourself all over town to entertain. It's a moment of peace. A moment of love. I hope that these last few days I will stop to notice that the stars still beautifully announce Jesus, the Prince of Peace.

What makes Christmas...Christmas?

The boys have been getting up entirely too early the past few mornings (ie: 3:00am) and crawling into our bed. I'm not sure if is a noise outside, the need to "go potty", or habit at this point. But it makes for early bed times because they practically fall asleep in the bathtub. So, now that the boys are asleep, I can write down some thoughts...

I've mentioned before that this is my first holiday season outside of the States, and I'm learning each day what it's like to be away from everything you associated with Christmas.

So, a thought has been running through my head today: what makes Christmas Christmas?

Is it cookies and fudge? I did make my mom's molasses sugar cookies and they were a hit. I always knew when those cookies were made it meant it was the holidays. I always enjoy baking enormous amounts of cookies at Christmas,and will miss the post holiday sales when I typically pick up needless amounts of holiday cookie tins. (It's an unhealthy obsession, really.)

What about cultures that celebrate big things on days other than December 25??? Some Dutch congregation members brought the boys St. Nicholas Day gifts (which was last Friday I think). And Spain has larger celebrations on Epiphany, rather than Christmas day.

Is it the community holiday events that create the holiday spirit? This weekend is the Medieval Market in Denia. There are a bunch of booths set up with vendors dressed in costume, and fire jugglers, and strolling minstrels. All good fun for the boys.

Is it the presents? Specific decorations? A specific nativity set? The great family gathering? Are you turkey or ham people?

This Christmas, because I don't have the "normal" Christmas things...or should I say, my tradition of Christmas, I have the opportunity to reflect on what really makes Christmas...well, Christmas.

Our sermon series for Advent is based on Isaiah 9:6

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace

Christmas, regardless of whether you exchange gifts on December 5, 25, or January 6, whether you put up Christmas trees or stick to nativity scenes, whether you bake cookies or make mountains of fudge, whether you have Salvation Army kettles or no...Christmas is the moment, the experience, the realization that we have a Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace..and for that we celebrate!

This is what happens when you bake a Chicago created pound cake recipe at sea level.

The eruption actually happened on both sides of the pan. After it cooled, we cut the pan and cake out of the explosion and still carried it to coffee fellowship the next day.

Better luck next time.

...the fire...

It's true. We had a fire in our apartment. It was completely my fault. I don't know how to BBQ. 5 years of officership and several attempts that always end disastrously should have been on the fore front of my mind. ( I burnt my eyebrows & eyelashes once...) But nonetheless, this will go down in the Carr Chronicles as the worst disaster with a BBQ, and on the top 10 list of Mom's all time bloopers...

It has been a rough week in the Carr household. Last Saturday, we nearly burned the apartment down. (In truth, we lost very little and can count out the miraculous ways God saved our familiy from a much larger disaster! And now we know our neighbors. :) ) Sunday, it was such an emotional day (mostly because of the fire, mixed with a little transition stress coming to the surface) that we barely made it through the 2 services at church. (At the end of the English service, the congregation gathered around us to pray over us.) Tuesday, the insurance company came to inspect the damage only to inform us later that they don't believe personal property is covered under insurance here, only official properties. Thursday, we went to Camp Saron to enjoy their lovely pool and I fell and now my tail bone is excruciatingly painful......aaaaaahhhhh! When you hit bottom, you begin to realize that there is no where to go but up....please, Lord, let this be the bottom.

I picked up my "Mission Prep" binder and was flipping through the discussion notes from "culture shock". And realized we fit those perameters. We're normal, well, at least according to the manual... It's always a bit of a relief to be reminded that what you are experiencing is normal in the grand scheme of things. (Thanks, Karen, for parenting normalcy reminders)

It a time of stress, I have decided to reinstitute a Carr household event. At the very end of the evening, just before we're going to turn the lights off and call it a day, Jeff and I will list three good things that happened during the course of the day. Now, sometimes ice cream and chocolate are the first two, but it gives us a chance to make ourselves realize that the entire day was not a "bad" day, regardless of what may have happened.

My 3 for today:

1. We got to talk to family via Skype!

2. The instant paella (sacreligious, I know) was actually pretty good.

3. We took a walk along to shore as a family.

For those who may actually read this post, I ask for prayer for Jeff as he returns to the States next week to finish up the boys' visa paperwork. I have a lot of fear and anxiety about his trip and my being alone (mostly irrational ones, but still there nonetheless). Your prayers are greatly appreciated on our behalf.

I'm taking a break from all the mopping to take advantage of the quiet moment during nap time. It's a blessing that both the boys are actually taking naps!

(PS: Someone's cooking something in the apartments around us, and I think it might be burning...)

Transition can be a real challenge. I think that there is this romantic vision of "missionary" (whatever that really means) life. There is this idea that it is amazing, heroic, and full of adventure and weird food. Well, at times it can be I guess. But at least for these last two weeks, it has been frustrating, hot, and "normal" (whatever that really means).

A line from a conference we took keeps coming back to me: "The first term is a learning term." Denia has more to teach me, than I have to offer it.

Last night as I was reading a line jumped out at me: "Whoever loses their life for me will find it." We have left most everything. Granted, we had a few things shipped to us, but for the most part we didn't bring it with us. We left "our life". Our grocery stores (a story all by itself), our understanding of how things work, our time frames, our air conditioning :), our family and friends...and last night, God quickly reminded me: It's not our life to keep. I want real life. I want what God wants for my life. This place is it. I don't know what that really means yet. I don't even know when I will know what that means....but I do know that I'll never find it until I let go of what I thought defined "life".

Well, enough for now...the 2 year old is up, and the laundry is waiting to be hung....

Lots still to learn...

In honor of my birthday/anniversary today, and in the 4 year tradition of this Carr family, I purchased my own birthday cake. There is a French pastry shop near the corps that some new friends pointed out as being one of the best in town, so I bought a ridiculously expensive cake to celebrate. I warned my husband that perhaps the prices of my birthday cakes will just keep going up as the years go by.

It has been an interesting and exhausting week. On Tuesday the gate covering the door to the church would not go up. The volunteer that runs the thrift store was a stumped as Jeff and I. We decided that there was nothing we could do since Spain runs on its own hours, and nothing would be open. We'd have to wait until Wednesday. So, I went to the corps early Wednesday morning to wait for the locksmith. As he explained to me that it must have been a motor malfunction and that a breaker had been thrown, he continued to explain to me that there was no need to call a locksmith that I could have fixed this on my own. When he realized that the manual override was not working, he cracked open the pull down gate the width of a stair, looked at me in my uniform and said "Now, just shimmy up inside there, open the door, and go flip the breaker." I said "No." So, he shimmied up inside, and well...opened the door. I think he felt sorry for us for making us pay for something that we could have done ourselves apparently if we had only known. He said he cut me a break on the cost...he said. The gate is still not completely working, but we're trying to make it work.

Today, the I learned what an asset my two boys can really be. People stop me on the street regularly just to talk to the boys. Mind you, the boys still don't respond to Spanish, but people are just so "attracted" to them. And this worked in my favor at the bank today while trying to open an account. The girls establishing my account were so enamoured with my two little flirts that they were extremely helpful to me.

We also found the local market. And I even bought homemade meatballs from a local butcher. We located the mall, and as Jeff says, it makes you feel a little less isolated. Being surrounded by mountains, in a small town, you can begin to feel like nothing really exists outside of you. We're still learning our way around town, and have become incredibly grateful for our Christmas purchase of a GPS. Now, if only I could figure out how to get around inside the grocery stores (nothing's placement makes sense to me yet).

And to top off the birthday/anniversary celebration we went to McDonald's Playplace. The boys had been in the strollers or car for the majority of the day so I wanted to give them a chance to run off some energy. Bram has yet to realize that the kids here don't speak his language. He came to me very frustrated this evening "I told the grills (girls) my name is Bramwell" He was upset that they didn't acknowledge him. And earlier at the thrift store a little girl, around his age, kept holding Bram's face trying to make him understand her. He kept looking at me like she was crazy. He's memorized a greeting phrase so far. And I think he's catching on that he'll get more of a response with 'Hola' than 'Hello'.

And as a great birthday gift: we recieved news today that our shipment of belongings should arrive within the next week!