So I had this dream last night. Now, I normally don't remember my dreams, but this one stuck with me. Only glimpses in my mind now that I am conscious, but still, it stuck.When I was waking up, I still had the dream on my mind and I started to think about it, and to my surprise, I came up with an interpretation of the dream.
In m dream, there were some people. These people were running, fighting, and doing everything they could to stay alive and not be eaten. Eaten by what you ask? Great question, They were being followed, or attacked rather, by a Tyrannosaurus Rex. This T-rex is doing everything it can to try to eat you. Tearing down trees, biting stuff in half. The people try to defend themselves by building a fence, it gets shredded. They try using spears, they do nothing. So the people start running.
They run, and they start up a steep mountainside. While this happens, it starts to rain. The rain turns the mountainside into mud and it is too slick for the T-rex to keep up, and eventually it slides down the mountain. The people, however, have no problems going up the mud. They had been saved by the rain.
Now, I know it is slightly corny, but I had the thought that this dream represents, in a way, God's love. First, let's start with the T-rex. I think that this T-rex represents some combination of Satan, sin, and the inevitability that sin will kill us unless we can be saved. Then there are the people, they try everything in THEIR power to stop the sin from killing them. The problem with their power is that it isn't enough and that the T-rex, the sin, was still catching up to them. Finally, there is the rain. To me, this represents how God's love is raining down on us, how it can literally wash away the sin, and save us from our fate.
I know that a T-rex is a little nerdy, but I am a nerd, so the message was tailored especially well for me and other like me.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Monday, September 23, 2013
The Language Barrier
For those of you who are great with the opposite gender, read no further, you won't understand what I am talking about.
Does anyone else have a hard time talking with someone that they find attractive? Be it a guy or a girl, I think that many of us would agree that it can be difficult to find the right words to say to that special someone. You want them to like you, and you don't want them to have a opinion of you. The problem is that you don't know what they like or dislike, you don't know what subjects you can discuss to impress them, and you might even be a little bit afraid to try and find out. At least, that is true for me sometimes. If you can imagine the helpless feeling of not knowing what is okay to talk about and what might upset them, then you might have some idea of the language barrier I am facing.
At this point in time, I speak little to no Russian. I am trying to learn, but that does not mean that I can communicate yet. In a way similar to talking to a beautiful woman, everyone I meet has me speechless. I don't know how much English they might understand. Worse than talking to a beautiful woman in English and not knowing what to say is talking to ANYONE here that only speaks Russian. I want so desperately to have a conversation with them, to get to know them, to see how their day was. But, just like the beautiful woman, I am left standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly trying to find something, anything to say that they might understand.
There is good news, however, in that there are some English speakers here. They communicate with me and I with them. Because of them I do not feel utterly alone, which is good.
Does anyone else have a hard time talking with someone that they find attractive? Be it a guy or a girl, I think that many of us would agree that it can be difficult to find the right words to say to that special someone. You want them to like you, and you don't want them to have a opinion of you. The problem is that you don't know what they like or dislike, you don't know what subjects you can discuss to impress them, and you might even be a little bit afraid to try and find out. At least, that is true for me sometimes. If you can imagine the helpless feeling of not knowing what is okay to talk about and what might upset them, then you might have some idea of the language barrier I am facing.
At this point in time, I speak little to no Russian. I am trying to learn, but that does not mean that I can communicate yet. In a way similar to talking to a beautiful woman, everyone I meet has me speechless. I don't know how much English they might understand. Worse than talking to a beautiful woman in English and not knowing what to say is talking to ANYONE here that only speaks Russian. I want so desperately to have a conversation with them, to get to know them, to see how their day was. But, just like the beautiful woman, I am left standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly trying to find something, anything to say that they might understand.
There is good news, however, in that there are some English speakers here. They communicate with me and I with them. Because of them I do not feel utterly alone, which is good.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Week One
It's the end of my first week here in Dnipropetrovsk and while it could have gone better, it also could have gone worse.
At my first class I was so nervous that I was boring and dry. To top off boring and dry I also assigned way too much homework and misunderstood how the lessons were supposed to go. Fortunately, I had a better time teaching my next class and things went smoother. People had more fun, they laughed, and we got almost as far as the first class (they were two different classes that are the same level so they have the same material).
I am getting tons of help with how to be a teacher. I may not know how to be a teacher now, but by the end of the year I think I will be an alright teacher. I might even know English better to boot!
At my first class I was so nervous that I was boring and dry. To top off boring and dry I also assigned way too much homework and misunderstood how the lessons were supposed to go. Fortunately, I had a better time teaching my next class and things went smoother. People had more fun, they laughed, and we got almost as far as the first class (they were two different classes that are the same level so they have the same material).
I am getting tons of help with how to be a teacher. I may not know how to be a teacher now, but by the end of the year I think I will be an alright teacher. I might even know English better to boot!
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Boiled Oats
In middle school my dad taught me how to cook from scratch. I still retain this knowledge, but the skill is rusty. Most of the food that I have prepared in the last 4 years has been with a microwave (not all but most).
Today I did something that I had not done in a long time. I made breakfast. I don't mean milk and cereal. I don't mean instant oatmeal. I mean stove, pot, boiling my oats, waiting for it to thicken, MADE breakfast. Unfortunately, I barely over salted my oatmeal. It wasn't actually a bad taste, it was just a LITTLE too strong for what I wanted.
In Ukraine, peanut butter is a rarity. It is apparently hard to get, and if a store can get it they don't give it up for anything less than a small fortune. The scarcity of peanut butter meant that I had to add something else to my oats than I usually do. I chose a banana, but the quality of the boiled oats FAR out weighed the quality of instant oats.
Bottom line:
The thing that I learned today by boiling my oatmeal is that there is a better way to eat breakfast.
Today I did something that I had not done in a long time. I made breakfast. I don't mean milk and cereal. I don't mean instant oatmeal. I mean stove, pot, boiling my oats, waiting for it to thicken, MADE breakfast. Unfortunately, I barely over salted my oatmeal. It wasn't actually a bad taste, it was just a LITTLE too strong for what I wanted.
In Ukraine, peanut butter is a rarity. It is apparently hard to get, and if a store can get it they don't give it up for anything less than a small fortune. The scarcity of peanut butter meant that I had to add something else to my oats than I usually do. I chose a banana, but the quality of the boiled oats FAR out weighed the quality of instant oats.
Bottom line:
The thing that I learned today by boiling my oatmeal is that there is a better way to eat breakfast.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
The Journey
On Saturday I left for Ukraine. I was so nervous about missing my plane that I had my Dad drop me off at the tiny little airport in Pasco 2 hours early. I was so early that I had to wait an hour to even check in for my flight (thus defeating the purpose of that extra hour). At security, having already humiliated me by stealing my shoes, decided that I look the type to make bombs or drugs or something because they decided to swab my shoes for residue.I had no more sat down in my seat on the plane when the captain told us to leave the plane, there was to be a two hour delay...
Upon arriving in San Francisco, I was upset to realize that I had to go through security again. This time, instead of swabbing my shoes like I was some kind of criminal, they decided to create a 3D image of my entire body. Kind of a neat idea when you do it for fun, not when they are looking for shanks and guns though.I think that is was quite the breach in privacy! Call me old fashioned, but I think that the only one who should know what my guts look like is my surgeon, just saying... Once past the full body scanner I was allowed to wander the international terminal for a few hours before my flight. I found the best way to waste money on a trip, airport souvenirs. I spent $5 on a freaking pen! I wasn't looking for a souvenir either, I just needed a pen. Worst of all is that I bought what I thought was a pen, but it was a mechanical pencil. Then I had to convince the woman to let me exchange it for a pen of equal value, not easy to do when I had grabbed the cheapest thing I could find. I can only imagine how much something from the Best Buy vending machines might cost. That's right, Best Buy has vending machine at the airport, stocked with tablets, iPads, headphones, and more... Freaking Best Buy....
Anyway, the flight from San Francisco to Munich was eleven hours long. I was amazed by the speed we traveled. According to the inflight display, we traveled at over 600 mph most of the time. By 2 hours into the flight we were over South Dakota, 4 hours we were over Quebec, 6 hours we were over the ocean south of Greenland and north of Newfoundland. After that I fell asleep and woke up over Germany, 1 hour out from Munich. It was amazing to travel on such a plane. I had traveled in large planes before, but this one has individual touch screen for everyone. I was able to choose my own movies, volume, and stop, start, and rewind it whenever I wanted. Truly impressive was the service. The flight attendants were kind, bringing drinks by every few hours (apple juice, orange juice, and water) and two meals (I slept through the second but I woke up in time to see them pick up the trash for it).
I was worried about landing in Munich. I didn't realize that English was the international language that it is. I mean, I know that is is called the "international language of business" sometimes, but I had no idea that it went beyond simple business interactions. I walked off of the plane, and as I expected, could not read a single sign.That is, until I got past the boarding gate and into the terminal. Then everything was either in German or English. I was astonished. The urinals were fancily shaped, but that is to be expected of any high quality place. I walked up, started to go to the bathroom when I was startled by a fly in the urinal! I waited a second, but it didn't move. Being a guy, I thought it would be funny to pee on it, so I did. It still didn't move! It was only at this point that I realized how dimwitted and tired I was. The fly was a sticker, and there was the same sticker in all of the other urinals. Man did I feel stupid when I realized that...
The flight to Kiev was uneventful, mostly because I passed out for most of the two hours. When I arrived, it was time to travel through customs. Again, I was nervous because of the stories I had heard. Again, I was relieved at how easy it was. God was making the process quick for me. When I was about to leave the building I was stopped by a Customs agent. She had a fancy police-like uniform and said something I didn't understand. I responded with "excuse me?" and she was surprised and said "oh, English?" and asked me a few questions. I started for what I thought was the exit when she redirected me to the wall... at least it looked like the wall at a glance. See, the wall was made of grey glass with metal frames, so the low profile, sliding grey glass door blended together with the wall. In my defense, I had only a few hours of sleep and the door was the same color of glass, I mean come on!
Outside I met a man named Alexander who had been sent to pick me up and put me on a bus. Up until now I had been able to read signs, tickets, or get some sort of translation. Here is where the international language gave way to local language. I sat in my seat, not sure of where I was of what was happening, for about 7 hours. Luckily there was someone waiting for me in Dnepropetrovsk (my destination city) or I would have never known that I had arrived.
Upon arriving in San Francisco, I was upset to realize that I had to go through security again. This time, instead of swabbing my shoes like I was some kind of criminal, they decided to create a 3D image of my entire body. Kind of a neat idea when you do it for fun, not when they are looking for shanks and guns though.I think that is was quite the breach in privacy! Call me old fashioned, but I think that the only one who should know what my guts look like is my surgeon, just saying... Once past the full body scanner I was allowed to wander the international terminal for a few hours before my flight. I found the best way to waste money on a trip, airport souvenirs. I spent $5 on a freaking pen! I wasn't looking for a souvenir either, I just needed a pen. Worst of all is that I bought what I thought was a pen, but it was a mechanical pencil. Then I had to convince the woman to let me exchange it for a pen of equal value, not easy to do when I had grabbed the cheapest thing I could find. I can only imagine how much something from the Best Buy vending machines might cost. That's right, Best Buy has vending machine at the airport, stocked with tablets, iPads, headphones, and more... Freaking Best Buy....
Anyway, the flight from San Francisco to Munich was eleven hours long. I was amazed by the speed we traveled. According to the inflight display, we traveled at over 600 mph most of the time. By 2 hours into the flight we were over South Dakota, 4 hours we were over Quebec, 6 hours we were over the ocean south of Greenland and north of Newfoundland. After that I fell asleep and woke up over Germany, 1 hour out from Munich. It was amazing to travel on such a plane. I had traveled in large planes before, but this one has individual touch screen for everyone. I was able to choose my own movies, volume, and stop, start, and rewind it whenever I wanted. Truly impressive was the service. The flight attendants were kind, bringing drinks by every few hours (apple juice, orange juice, and water) and two meals (I slept through the second but I woke up in time to see them pick up the trash for it).
I was worried about landing in Munich. I didn't realize that English was the international language that it is. I mean, I know that is is called the "international language of business" sometimes, but I had no idea that it went beyond simple business interactions. I walked off of the plane, and as I expected, could not read a single sign.That is, until I got past the boarding gate and into the terminal. Then everything was either in German or English. I was astonished. The urinals were fancily shaped, but that is to be expected of any high quality place. I walked up, started to go to the bathroom when I was startled by a fly in the urinal! I waited a second, but it didn't move. Being a guy, I thought it would be funny to pee on it, so I did. It still didn't move! It was only at this point that I realized how dimwitted and tired I was. The fly was a sticker, and there was the same sticker in all of the other urinals. Man did I feel stupid when I realized that...
The flight to Kiev was uneventful, mostly because I passed out for most of the two hours. When I arrived, it was time to travel through customs. Again, I was nervous because of the stories I had heard. Again, I was relieved at how easy it was. God was making the process quick for me. When I was about to leave the building I was stopped by a Customs agent. She had a fancy police-like uniform and said something I didn't understand. I responded with "excuse me?" and she was surprised and said "oh, English?" and asked me a few questions. I started for what I thought was the exit when she redirected me to the wall... at least it looked like the wall at a glance. See, the wall was made of grey glass with metal frames, so the low profile, sliding grey glass door blended together with the wall. In my defense, I had only a few hours of sleep and the door was the same color of glass, I mean come on!
Outside I met a man named Alexander who had been sent to pick me up and put me on a bus. Up until now I had been able to read signs, tickets, or get some sort of translation. Here is where the international language gave way to local language. I sat in my seat, not sure of where I was of what was happening, for about 7 hours. Luckily there was someone waiting for me in Dnepropetrovsk (my destination city) or I would have never known that I had arrived.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Dressing up
Oddly enough, in my everyday life I am very informal. I rarely dress up. For me, buttons, a collar, and maybe even a pocket mean that I am dressed up. On a typical day the best I will dress could be a t-shirt, on a really fancy day I will probably a polo shirt, MAYBE a dress shirt. This isn't the odd part though.
The odd part is that on my mission I will be expected to wear a dress shirt almost everyday. I am about to spend a year in another country, doing my best to serve, and I think it's funny that part of my service will be dressing formally. Formal clothing and short hair...
The odd part is that on my mission I will be expected to wear a dress shirt almost everyday. I am about to spend a year in another country, doing my best to serve, and I think it's funny that part of my service will be dressing formally. Formal clothing and short hair...
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