"Sweet or Sour" or "My February 12th" or "Orange Cat Attitude"

I used to have a giant poster hanging in my bedroom of a fat, scowling, orange cat and the words, "attitude is everything." I loved that poster. I really thought it was cool and that I was cool. Why didn't anyone tell me? I had a weird flashback the other day and I envisioned that silly poster as I pondered my attitude- it really does have a gianormous affect on my perspective. The first few weeks I was back in Maputo, I did not have the best attitude. Actually, it was a downright "bad attitude" because I was longing to be home so badly. I especially noticed this sour attitude of mine as I walked home. Suddenly I was disgusted by the filth, constantly coughing as I tried to breath the polluted air, annoyed by the boys saying, "Hello my sista," annoyed by all the stares and people trying to sell me things, realized for the first time that my walk is all slightly up-hill, and I didn't feel love for the Mozambicans as I passed them. It sucked. Once God finally threw water on my face and made me wake up, I realized the consequences of my "orange, cat attitude"- I was missing out on the abundant life He has promised me because I was choosing to wallow in my pity parties and negativity. I know there is a time for everything and certainly a time to mourn and be sad, but I took it too far and was just plain grumpy. I have begun a morning prayer as I wait for my ride that God would work on my attitude that day- that He would alert me to my tendencies to be negative and snap me out of it. I believe my God will answer the "big prayers" concerning Maputo but He also answers the "small prayers" concerning my attitude.

Today was such a wonderful day- start to finish- and I know it is because God had totally answered my prayer and let me see the world from a heavenly perspective and worked on my attitude. (Please don't think that I'm some moody, tudy, fresh and fruity girl. I don't think I have major attitude problems but I know I can be negative when He wouldn't want me to be.) Nothing spectacular happened on this terrific Tuesday, no major voting took place, but God intervened and gave me a good attitude which enabled me to thoroughly enjoy every hour of my day. I found myself smiling and chuckling to myself throughout the day and knew that every day could be like this if I have the right attitude. The following is my schedule from Tuesday, February 12, which is what a typical Tuesday is like.

6:00- Alarm went off. Hit snooze 8 times.

6:40- Kicked the mosquito net out of my way and and rolled out of bed.

7:00- Caught my ride to school with three of my students. Rolled the window down to let the mosquitoes out but mainly because I like a breeze in the morning and enjoy pretending to be a dog riding in a car with my head out the window.

7:15- Prayed for the school and for 4 students with other teachers. Love this tradition and would love to start it with fellow Christians at Rowland.

7:30- Hung out in the computer lab and wrote the test I would be administering a few hours later. I confess that I am a total hypocrite when it comes to procrastination. I thought it would pass after college but it's only gotten worse.

8:15- Taught my 9th/10th English class. Today I finally realized that I am actually enjoying teaching grammar! This in itself is a small miracle because I was dreading it so much but I am a student-at-heart and love learning new things so I really am enjoying learning how to diagram sentences and recognize predicate nomatives, appositives, verbals, gerands, etc. There was a moment when I was explaining how to recognize an indirect and direct object when Peter, who has flunked every grammar test, exclaimed, "I think I actually understand this!" Ahhh- this is why I love teaching- getting to watch the moment when the light bulb turns on, such precious moments.

9:15- Taught my 9th/10th Economics class. Yet another subject that I dreaded like getting Malaria but it hasn't been too painful. However, a parent asked me what we learned about in econ that day and I said, "Ummm...chapter 3." Real comforting I'm sure- since when are parents allowed to quiz the teachers?? I was not prepared:)

10:00- Had "break" aka- "snack" as I always called it. Was starving for lunch already and ate stale cookies. Looked at the clock and realized it was midnight at home which meant Lesley Miller just turned 26! Thanked the Lord for amazing friends like Lesley and chuckled to myself picturing Lesley speaking in her man voice, playing "lava-monster," doing awkward/awesome dance moves, clapping at weddings, and singing "Crucified" quite sacreligiously. Love you Lesley! (fyi- for a few months our junior year we decided to take all pictures with the double thumbs up- can't remember why. )

10:15- Taught my 11th/12th US History class. We're learning about the Depression and my three boys have started to get "TC" for school but were all super interested in the Depression. (TC means "too cool") They asked tons of very inquisitive questions about what happened to the banks and stock market and laughed way too hard when I made them pull out their pockets and explained that empty pockets were called, "Hoover Flags." I didn't intend for this to be funny so I was pleasantly surprised that they were so entertained by random historical trivia. We've also been watching clips from Cinderella Man and they/I am loving it! Ok, that was a small lie but I'll fess up- we're not watching "clips." We watched the whole thing and I tried to do it somewhat secretively because the school is so conservative I wasn't sure if they would allow boxing scenes and I think they frown on showing whole movies but it's such a great one and it stimulated even more questions about the Depression. Of course, the movie made me cry as it always does which created an awkward moment when Neel asked me something about the movie right as I was crying and I tried to answer but was clearly choked up.

11:00- Relaxed during my prep period. Couldn't fight the hunger any longer and did my daily "BP run" to grab juice and my favorite chocolate. (I was ridiculed the other day when I said BP is my favorite spot for lunch. Who doesn't enjoy lunch an elegant meal at the gas station?) I also stopped by the "fresh popcorn" stand where a man on the corner sells hot bags of kettle corn for about 10 cents. If teaching doesn't work out, I may need to open one of these on a corner in Brea.

11:45- Taught 7th/8th World History. This was a simple day since they took the test on the Reformation and Thirty Years' War but we reviewed a bit beforehand and the kids were actually prepared for the test! Another simple joy of teaching. Mauricio is learning English this year and couldn't hold a conversation at the beginning of the year, yet he was able to write a half-page explaining what Martin Luther believed. It is so fun to watch kids progress! I have thoroughly enjoyed teaching this unit since I know the bare minimum about the Reformation and have decided Martin Luther is my new hero. I considered naming my son "Martin" but then I immediately think of that obnoxious show called "Martin" and realize that option is out. If that just sounded like a birth announcement, I apologize, but yes, I think about my future children and their possible names. (I'm obviously hurting for visuals on this entry that I have resorted to taking a picture of Mauricio's test)

12:30- Left on the bus with the 5th/6th graders to go to the pool. Before leaving, the icecream man walked by the school and I made one of the kids sneak and buy me an popsicle. I'm not 100% sure this is against school rules but it wouldn't surprise me, hence the "sneaking." The kids cracked up when Mocha, our guard dog, jumped on the bus- I don't blame her for wanting to cool off- it was pretty warm today. Rode through town on the bus in my normal "dog out the window" posture, enjoying the sites and sounds of Maputo in the afternoon. This class loves playing "sweet and sour" on these bus rides and smile at the people on the streets to see if they will be sweet or sour. Thumbs up and/or a smile makes them sweet but every other response is "sour." I am thoroughly entertained by these kids.

12:50- Arrived at the Oasis pool to teach the 5th/6th class and then the 3rd/4th class. Today I taught many of them how to dive for the first time. I have never seen so many belly flops in my life! Of course I had to laugh after every one and I got some weird looks from the other people at the pool but come on, belly flopping is funny. My great words of wisdom as they prepared to jump in head-first: "Pretend God has a string tied to your butt and He pulls it up every time you jump." Verita was especially excited to learn to dive and when she finally got it down, her look of pride and sheer joy was enough to make me tear up. I of course had flashbacks to when my dad taught us all how to dive. I have a vivid memory of Heidi standing on the diving board and with my dad holding a giant pole out in front of her, forcing her to jump over it and she was nearly in tears.

We also learned how to flip under the water and push off the wall. I was quite fearful that when I tried to demonstrate I would be unable to do this but it turned out alright. Stephen is an awesome swimmer and he quickly perfected the flip. He told me, "I've always wanted to learn how to do that!" and I was reminded again why I love teaching. We played our usual rendition of freeze tag and then sang and made silly faces on the bus ride home.
2:30- Arrived back at school and hung out in computer lab, checking e-mails and finishing lesson plans. My only Mozambican friend also uses this time right after school to use the internet and we've had some great conversations. We had an awesome talk about God's mercy verses His justice and who would be in heaven. We then talked about his struggles of being an African man who is single- and I thought I had pressure to get married!

3:30- Tried to leave campus but some kids convinced me to play a 2 on 2 basketball game with them. So for my second time here, I hiked up my skirt and played and it was so much fun. Of course I got competitive and "talked sternly" to my teammate about getting to the right spot on defense. Yes, Andrew and I won. Domingos and Orlando were the competition- they are in the center in the picture. Domingos is the one who looks like he's ready to kill someone. He usually has that expression but he and I get along great although he will sometimes ask me to flex during class which is not cool. 4:30- Walked home. With my new, improved attitude, I didn't notice the incline, the trash, or the dirty air. I also wasn't annoyed by the "hey sista" and "hola mi amiga" comments and gave them sas by answering back, mimicing their tone of voice. I played my own version of "sweet or sour" and passed mostly "sweet" people. A man tried to sell me a painting of a lion which did not even look like an animal but he mistook my friendly laugh and, "Nao obrigada" to mean "I might buy your ugly painting if you follow me and repeat 'cheap price' thirty-three times." I didn't want to have to use my stern voice which scares away venders so I switched to my passive-aggresive tactics and watched on the edge of the sidewalk. Then I ran across the main highway in front of a bunch of speeding cars so he couldn't follow. I know they say being passive aggressive is wrong but sometimes it so much easier and much more entertaining. (yes, my stern voice is quite frightening and I can assure you that most of you have never heard it and hopefully never will)

5:oo Stopped by my favorite bakery for bread (duh) and avoided awkward come-ons from the baker, Ernesto, then stopped by the fruit/vegetable stand on the corner for mangos and potatos. (cock roach free this time!) The woman selling was having a very animated conversation in Shanghan (local language) but it sounded like she was saying, "Ooga, booga, boooga!" which of course made me giggle.

5:10 Collapsed in my hammock and read and watched a huge storm roll in. The thunder was out-of-control crazy and it suddenly was pouring with flashes of lightening but I remained totally warm laying in my hammock. Poor Gizmo was a terrified by the thunder sounding like God's stomach growling and he hid underneath the hammock.

6:00 Made my weekly baked potato and frozen vegetables. Confession: it took me three times to finally figure out how to defrost frozen vegetables and I ended up cheating and calling for help. Apparently it is such an obvious task that they don't write directions for defrosting in a microwave but I DESTROYED two helpings of frozen pees without any directions. Common sense and cooking are two things that do not go hand in hand for me.

7:00 Talked to my family via skype. My mom just had her gall bladder removed and now she is doing wonderfully!!! I guess we don't need it all that much anyways which I'm glad to hear since I will probably have to have mine removed one day. I love when I get a good connection and am able to get updates on home.

8:00 Power went out because of storm so I borrowed an oil lamp from my neighbor, Henrik, and really felt like Laura Ingles. I lit the house up with candles which was so easy feat for me since I struggling lighting matches- I always end up burning my finger before I get the wick to catch. I worked on my computer until the battery died and then the power came back on just as I was getting ready for bed.

In a perfect world my devotions today would be about attitude, but living in Mozambique, I am daily reminded that we most certainly do NOT live in a perfect world. However, I was reading an exerpt from writings from Ignatius Loyola (founder of the Jesuits) since we just learned about him in class and found his words so insightful that I must share them for my "Danny Tanner moment." Loyola wrote about 3 reasons we are in "desolation" and don't feel God's presence. It was amazing to me that this man who lived in the 16th century and was a devout Catholic in the Counter-Reformation, would write words that I could relate with so much.

"There are three reasons why we are in desolation. The first is because we have been tepids, slothful, or negligent in our Spiritual Exercises, and so through our own fault spiritual consolation is withdrawn from us. (Indeed the days when I am not spending time in prayer and reading God's word, I obviously don't feel His closeness.)

The second is that God may try to test our worth, and the progress that we have made in his service and praise when we are without such generous rewards of consolation and special graces. (I went through this in college when God withdrew His presence for seemingly no reason but it is only through that experience that I truly began to understand faith and choosing to serve God even when I don't feel or see Him merely because He is worthy and not because it makes me feel good.)

The third is that he may wish to give us a true knowledge and understanding so that we may truly perceive that it is not within our power to acquire or retain great devotion, ardent love, tears, or any other spiritual consolation, but that all of this is a gift and a grace of God our Lord. Nor does God wish us to claim as our own what belongs to another, allowing our intellect to rise up in a spirit of pride or vainglory, attributing to ourselves the devotion or other aspects of spiritual consolation. (I've experienced this in more recent years and even here on the mission field when God has withdrawn and I learned that it was not by my strength and my works or my discipline that I was close to God. Yes, I am supposed to draw near to God but I also must realize that His drawing near to me is a gift and it is done by His works- I can't manipulate Him and I can't feel proud of "my accomplishment" when I do feel His presence.)

My February 12th, 2008 was a day when I was blessed with God's sweet and amazing gift of His presence. He also answered my prayer and adjusted my attitude and I realized that I can be a grumpy jerk with an "orange cat attitude" without Him.

Wish They All Could be California Girls

The picture below is perhaps my favorite all-time photo. It has made me laugh for years and brings so many memories rushing back. Not just memories of my brothers as cross-dressers, but memories of hours and hours spent swimming in backyards around Brea; hours of dives, canon balls, jack-knives, belly flops, and flips, hours playing the classics like Colors, Marco Polo, the match game, Don't Break the Ice, and King of the "raft" to name a few; hours of races and walking on our hands, and making up synchronized swimming performances. The pool itself holds many treasured Hardeman memories: riding our bikes in it before it was filled, the day we first filled it with water and my grandpa was the first to jump it, the tragic morning our dog Odie chased Bun Bun, the class bunny, to it's death in the pool, the morning Swish fell in and my mom jumped in in her clothes to save him, the time my cat fell in with a cast on her leg, the night Travis caught Heidi smooching with her boyfriend in the spa, the time Trent slipped and cracked his tooth on the edge of the pool, or the morning Travis pushed Trent in before school while wearing all his clothes and my dad punished Travis by letting Trent retaliate and push Travis in as well. Most summers revolved around that pool and we suffered the reprecussions with often peeling skin and bright green hair but it was well worth it.

Many of those hours spent under the water were spent with the Thomas siblings. (the beautiful brunettes in the picture) Sorry Megan and Grant but I just couldn't resist posting this classic. Megan is actually the only semi-normal-looking one in the picture minus her poofed hair and too-proper leg posture so I suppose she doesn't need an apology but here we are on her wedding day- see how beautiful she turned out? Sorry Grant- hopefully your hunting and football buddies don't read my blog- I have a sneaky suspicion that they don't:) Trent and Trav on the other hand, deserve any embarrassment I can dish their way. After suffering years of being tormented by the terrible twins, I don't feel guilty showing the world their skinny, white thighs. So boys, I love you, but consider this pay-back for all those butt-slaps over Christmas break.

Growing up in Southern California, coming across a kid who didn't know how to swim was like stumbling upon a 6-toed freak. I know such feet exist but I've never actually seen one and I'm guessing they don't flaunt their extra toe with flashy flip-flops. My point is that in the community and circles I traveled in, everyone swam. period. Not learning was like not knowing how to skip or blow bubbles or jump rope- all of which are basic survival skills for kids in the surburbs. So in my narrow view of the world, I assumed all kids swim. Not true my friends, not true. I have been teaching swimming for about a month now and am still daily surprised by the general lack of knowledge my students have about how to stay afloat. I guess if you don't grow up spending summers in the pool, you don't pick up the basics and although I began teaching feeling like I knew absolutely nothing about swimming, I've found that I actually know quite a bit merely by being a "California girl."

Being the freakish perfectionist that I can be at times, I searched the Internet for swimming lesson plans and instructions on the strokes. I found some good material but the best help came from a girl with a wealth of knowledge about teaching swimming. I played basketball with Michalle at Westmont and remembered that she taught Westmonters how to swim and proper form. (My own roommates Jenny and Lori who were not raised pretending to be mermaids, received Michalle's instruction) Without any prompting, Michalle e-mailed me asking if there was anything she could help with regarding swimming and I mentioned that I could use a few tips. She proceeded to e-mail me all her lesson plans from teaching at Westmont which have been put to good use. The best surprise came from Michalle a few days later. One of the reasons I love Michalle is that I never know what to expect from her- she is constantly surprising me with her randomness which I greatly appreciate. So when I opened my e-mail from her and saw she had written, " This is so weird that I'm sending this to you and you will probably think I'm a psycho, but I thought it might help," I knew I was in for a treat. She had sent me a bunch of short video clips demonstrating exactly how to teach the stroke. These videos were soooo helpful!!! I may be a master at playing "colors" but I never swam competitively and thus never learned all the techniques and proper form. I felt like the blind leading the blind when teaching the strokes until I watched Michalle's videos and suddenly I could pretend to know what I was talking about and I think I have most of my kids fooled. Yes, Michalle is quite pregnant- yet another reason these videos are so awesome and so appreciated.



The first day at the pool with the younger kids was a scary one. We went to a pool with no shallow end! Kinda tough to teach someone to swim when they don't have floaties and I can't even touch the bottom. We worked on a lot of kicking while holding the side and no one drowned and I didn't pee my pants although this would have been an ok time to do it. (I'm not a usual pool pee-er though) Luckily, the directors decided to move the younger kids to another pool with a shallow end. My schedule doesn't allow me to go with the k-2nd grade class but these kids crack me up with their goggles and ethusiasm for swimming. Apparently on that first awful day, one of the 2nd grade boys jumped in, not knowning how to swim, had to be pulled out and was traumatized. (secretly very glad I wasn't there) On Mondays and Wednesdays, I load the bus with all the 7th-12th graders and we crawl through the Maputo afternoon traffic to one of the public pools in town. I love being able to get out of the classroom and I actually look foward to the bus rides since I get to relax and observe daily life in Maputo. The pool pictured below is the one we take the older kids to which has no shallow end. There are 2 students who don't know how to swim at all so Fabio and I rotate days working with the swimmers and non-swimmers. (I think the name "Fabio" will always make me laugh and picture the long-haired model.) He is the PE teacher who doesn't actually teach much since he doesn't speak English which is why I was asked to help instruct. I worked with the non-swimmers today and I'm still baffled by how quickly they sink- really, it's like their veins are full of lead. Holding onto a kickboard and doing the flutter kick (that's right, I'm learning the swimmer terminology) with all their might, they still don't move much and if anyone has an explanation for this, please share it with me. They are finally getting comfortable in the water although on the first day, one of the swimmers pushed Orlando into the pool- Orlando doesn't swim. He flailed his arms in true, "I'M DROWNING!" form and the pusher, Oko, quickly realized his stupidity and jumped in and pulled Orlando to the side. It was the longest 4 seconds of my life. Later that day I was telling the kids to hustle over and Oko slipped in a puddle and ate it hard. (I know, I know, there's supposed to be 'NO RUNNING' by the pool but I was impatient) When he landed on his butt of course I did the point and laugh- serves him right.








Besides not having a shallow end, the other unfortunate thing about this pool is that it is public- meaning there are always people hanging around watching and young men playing billards who always say, "Hi teacher." For the most part however, I love it here. When I work with the swimmers, we start with stretching (mainly for me) and then tread some water to get warm and for exercise (mainly for me). We then work on a new skill and swim laps but get out of the pool each time to do exercises like lunges, squats, sit-ups and push-ups. Kids seem to dread this part but I suspect they are faking and secretly love it. They haven't been getting much exercise in PE in the past and I can be a bit of a drill sergeant but I am determined to get them into shape. I have had a couple of parents talk to me about their child being extremely sore after swimming:) Ha! I don't know what their intentions were in telling me this but I felt quite proud. In the middle picture, they are treading water and that is Fabio in the background.
After I've exhausted them as much as possible, there are a few minutes of free time which involves jumping from the high dive. The kids for some reason find it hilarious that I too enjoy jumping from the high dive. When I climb the ladder, I transform back into the 5th grade version of Katie and approach the end of the board, pretending to be an Olympic diver but then jump and flail my arms and scream. Kimberly was taking pictures for me one day and tried to get me jumping but wasn't ready for my spring:)On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I ride on the bus with the 5th and 6th graders to the pool with the shallow end called the Oasis. Here they are wearing capes as they wait for the bus and loading onto it.










When Dr. Meyers first asked me to teach swimming, I wasn't thrilled about it but thought, "at least I'll get a tan." (for those who don't know, I am tanerexic and am 94% sure I'll have skin cancer) Now however, I feel so fortunate that I get to spend 4 days of the week having fun in the pool. Despite not having a high dive and being in a sketchy area of town, I prefer the Oasis because there's music and not as many men watching me yell instructions at the kids.











In the 5th/6th class there are only 6 swimmers and 2 non-swimmers and 3 of the swimmers are triplet boys from Brazil. These boys didn't speak a word of English when they first started school but they are quickly catching on and although they are very mischevious and not the best listeners, they are the sweetest little boys and swim like fish. Here they are working on their dives. The water was much greener than usual today- should I be concerned?The third and fourth graders show up at the Oasis next and most of these kids are still learning to swim. Working with these younger ones is tons of fun although I am often reminded why I prefer teaching high school. Even though they are 7 and 8 years old, they still do plenty of exercises and today were complaining of "rubber legs." I think their teacher was concerned.











During their free time the first day, I again transformed back into 5th grade Katie and decided we needed to play a game so I introduced them to freeze-tag in the shallow end. It really is tragic that they didn't know how to play this game. They loved it and it has become a ritual every time we have free play and I'm not sure who has more fun, me or them. Although I am getting an huge, ugly "x" tan-line on my back, I am loving being in the sun in the afternoons teaching kids outside of the classroom. I feel silly for ever worrying about teaching swimming.

God of This City

School was canceled the day following the riots in case of further violence but things completely settled down. The chapa prices were lowered and the chapa drivers returned to work. Just today as I walked to school I passed a chapa that was so full they couldn't shut the door and two men were literally hanging out the side with the door open. I continue to get e-mails from the US embassy warning us of areas in Mozambique to avoid. One man was shot and killed in a northern province last week but most of the shooting has been from police with their rubber bullets. Rumors continue to circulate about possible riots on this coming Friday but for the most part things have completely calmed down in the city. This was the newspaper the day after the riots with pictures of burning cars, blocked roads, and angry mobs.As previously mentioned, I often have a theme song for different times in my life. This week's song is "God of This City" by the Passion Worship Band. Listening to the lyrics has greatly convicted me of my lack of faith in what God can do. I belief Him for too little and see that my prayers are too small. He can change this nation and I need to be fervently praying for that change, for these people. And when I pray, I need to truly believe that God will answer- that He will draw Mozambicans to Himself. I confess that sometimes when I pray the "big prayer" for entire cities and countries, I don't actually expect Him to answer- how pathetic is that? My time here in Mozambique is broadening my view of God and I am seeing that I need to believe Him for so much more. He is so much more powerful than I've believed.

Mozambique is not a Christian nation- far from it. Most are following traditional animist beliefs and are trapped in darkness. Even pastors go to witch doctors and have several wives. Yet God is working here. I get to watch first-hand as missionaries plant and water seeds, leading people to the way, to Jesus. God offers His light to this city living in darkness, His hope to the poverty-stricken, and His peace to the desperate. Right now Maputo may be in Satan's domain, but God has not forsaken this city and I know that "greater things are still to be done in this city."

You're the God of this city
You're the King of these people
You're the Lord of this nation
You Are

You're the light in this darkness
You're the hope to the hopeless
You're the peace to the restless
You Are

For there is no one like our God
There is no on like our God

Greater things have yet to come
Great things are still to be done
In this city
Greater things are still to come
And greater things are still to be done here

You're the Lord of Creation
The Creator of all things
You're the King above all Kings
You Are

You're the strength in our weakness
You're the love to the broken
You're the joy in the sadness
You Are

Greater things have yet to come
Great things are still to be done
In this city
Where glory shines from hearts alive
With praise for you and love for you
In this city

Greater things have yet to come
Great things are still to be done
In this city
Greater things are still to come
And greater things are still to be done here

Eesh

When a Mozambican is scared, shocked, or surprised by something, they often say, "Eesh." Some of the synonyms that I would use are wow, dang, and holy moly. I hope I pick up the "eesh" phrase because I realize that saying "holy moly" isn't exactly hip. (In the picture I am saying "eesh") Well today, February 5, 2008, I can guarantee most Mozambicans have said, "EESH!" The price of bread, rice and a chapa ride all went up today without any increase in salaries and needless to say, the people are pissed. Sorry mom, I know you hate when I use that term but saying the people are "really really mad" just doesn't suffice. The public is furious and ready for action and the riots and looting have begun. Chapa (pronounced with the "sh" sound) is the only form of public transportation. I've mentioned them before because it cracks me up how they pile people into these little vans and minibuses like sardines and people are left with their rears hanging out the window as the often-times drunk chapa driver bounces along the pot-holed roads. Pretty much everyone living outside of the city rides a chapa into the city in the morning and back home at night. Now that chapa prices have increased, since gas prices have increased, the chapa-riders are desperate. Below are some pictures of chapas on typical days.
















The mayhem began during my US History class this morning. We heard shouting from outside the school but that's not an unusual occurence so we paid no heed. The voices didn't stop. They got louder and and louder until the tension from the street right outside our school seeped in through the gates and we knew something was wrong. The chapa-riders decided to take matters into their own hands and shut down the entire chapa system by starting a strike. Those chapas that tried to continue running were attacked and as windows shattered, the vans were evacuated and the drivers fled. Currently there are abandoned chapas littering the streets with only shattered windows to tell their story. Against my better judgment I snuck my camera out when I was sitting in the back of the truck to take a picture of one of the chapas with broken windows. See Anderson, I can be brave like you.

Mob mentality has set in and the disgruntled Mozambicans want action. Rioting has started throughout the city. Of course rioting's sister looting has followed right behind. There is a park directly across from our school which is infamous for demonstrations. The strikers met here. As did the police. Shots have been fired but we don't know at whom or by whom just yet although we suspect it was the police firing into the air to clear the mob. During my prep period I gathered some more info from the librarian, cars are burning. The mob has turned over cars in the streets and set them aflame, closing off all streets leading to and from Maputo. During World History students began to leave as their parents picked them up early since it seems chaos is about to break loose in Maputo. I continued class but was interupted by a loud 'BANG!' and then another. "Was that a bomb Miss Hardeman?" No, no, sounded more like a T-Rex walking towards the school to me. And it did. How would I know what a bomb sounds like? Turns out it was just giant dumpsters being tipped over in the street right in front of our school to block the roads. This picture of the front of my school was taken last week right in the spot where the dumpsters are presently residing.Just as I was contemplating how safe my walk home would be today, Doug Miller showed up to pick up his daughter Kimberly and offered me a ride. Transformed into some-sort of chapa driver himself, Doug took 7 of us home. Luckily he had a truck so we could ride in the back; this is called "Amazon style" according to my student Domingos. Doug maneuvered around the dumped dumpsters and we drove through an almost deserted street. Chapas are usually everywhere and their absence leaves Maputo feeling like a ghost town.

Doug dropped me off at home but as I approached the gate, a suspicious fellow wearing hammer pants walked towards me. (hammer as in "MC Hammer" "Hammertime") Never trust a man in hammer-pants. I think I read that somewhere. I pretended just to look at the house and continued walking. This isn't that unusual- I actually do it about once or twice a week when I don't want some character to see where I live. Today however, I was on nerve and did my usual walk around the block extra fast only to find the man had double-backed and so I continued walking and bought some bread. I took a very long route back to my house where I knew I could sneak in without him noticing unless he had parked himself right in front of the house. God knows I was a bit nervous and so He sent me Katie. confused? Katie is a missionary working here who escorted me back to the house and told me about rioting happening throughout "hot spots" in town. She has been acting as a chapa-driver today and praying as she drives throughout Maputo. "I think there is a reason I drove past you right then" she said. I agree. God cracks me up- what a protector.

I know it is no coincidence that just yesterday I read in my devotional the following:

2 Timothy 1: 7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love, and of a sound mind."

"The only fear that God encourages in a Christian's life is the fear of God. Fear of people does not come from God....There is no reason to live in fear when you have the mighty presence of the Holy Spirit within you. Fear will enslave you, but Christ has come to set you free."

As I drove in the back of the truck with 4 of my students, witnessing the affects of rioting, I was overcome by a sense of peace. We truly have nothing to fear. FDR almost got it right- he said there is nothing to fear but fear itself. Actually Mr. Roosevelt, we only need to fear God.

Please pray for my city and for the people of Maputo. Pray for order and peace and an end to the rioting. Pray for wisdom for the government. Pray for the Holy Spirit to invade this city.

A Heart Like the Grinch

Today is a momentous day. Why? Today is the day Vander uttered two very important syllables: "a- tee." That's right, HE SAID MY NAME!!! I hate to sound so self-involved, but this made my day. The "k" sound will come eventually, but for now, I will be "atie" and proud of it. Poor Uncle Trent will probably have to wait months before he hears his own difficult-to-pronounce-for-babies-and-non-English-speakers name. That little boy has wiggled his way into my heart and will forever have a special place.

There are three other children in this world who have climbed into my heart and set up house. However, unlike Vander, these children will remain in my heart forever as just that, children. Lord willing, I will get to see Vander grow into a man but these other precious, young ones will remain frozen in time as innocent, vulnerable, treasured children. Their faces are burned into my memory and their lives have forever changed my own. Who are these three cherished children? Honestly, I only remember the name of one. I met the first of the three in India. My team had just finished playing the longest game of basketball in the world (the clock strangly kept changing if we were winning) and I had shared my testimony at half time with the crowd. It was at this moment, as I was dripping with sweat, physically exhausted but running on adrenaline, that I met the first boy who rocked my world. About 8 or 9, he ran up to me after the game and introduced himself and said, "I like what you said about Jesus." "Did you? Do you believe what I said is true?" He responded with, "Well of course I believe." Me: "Do you believe there are other gods as well as Jesus?" His reply: "Of course there are." I internally sighed, "Oh the dilemma of sharing Jesus with Hindus. They will readily accept Jesus in their myriads of gods but won't accept him as the ONLY way," I thought. Before I could respond to this sweet, smiling boy, my group, already packed up in the van, called to me saying we MUST leave right away. (apparently our Hindu driver was terrified by the Muslim men who had been conversing with our leader) There was nothing I could do, nothing more I could say to this boy and my heart broke. As I tore myself away from him, he ran after me waving and grinning and then he yelled words that I can't push out of my consciousness no matter how hard I try: "I'll see you in heaven in Katie!" Ever since that moment, I have been grappling with his words. Will I? Will I see you in heaven one day? I have wrestled with God numerous times over this issue and the only conclusion I have reached is God is good, God is just, God is merciful, God is trust-worthy, God is loving. When I lay awake at night thinking about that boy in India, I pray for him and I cling to those truths.

I met the next of the three life-changing children in a remote, coastal town on a primitive island in the Philippines. She was the leader of a gang of mischievous little ones, running about in dirty, torn clothes, laughing at the tall Americans. I can't remember how we initiated our friendship but throughout the basketball game, I played follow the leader, did cartwheels, made silly faces, and ran from the group as they threw worms at me. I don't remember her name but I can't forget her dimples or her joy-filled spirit. In the picture she is the one wearing the yellow shorts. In meeting and playing with this rambunctious little girl, I understood a tiny bit more about God's love and His hugeness. Here was a girl living in a town that few people will ever hear of and somehow I felt a tiny bit of how God loves her and was overwhelmed by it. She may be forgotten and invisible in the world's eyes, but she is dearly loved by her Creator and it was in meeting in her that I realized God is so much bigger than I can ever imagine.

Wait a minute, I thought these "tales" were supposed to be from Mozambique? You're right, you're right. Ok. And for the record, I'm not trying to boast about all the places I've been to- but no matter the country, there are children filled with joy who God loves so much and whom He uses to teach me. (I just taught my English class when to use "whom" but now I can't remember the rules- anyone want to call me out on my usage?) The third boy who will remain in my heart, long after I leave Mozambique is Andre. I've talked about him before; he's the boy from Shiparango (the village where I attend church) who only has one hand.

I didn't know it was possible to care so much about a boy I hardly know- maybe I'm like the Grinch and my heart is stretching while I'm here in Africa. (not that I was particularly green or grouchy or a hater of Christmas- but you know what I mean) Andre has been gone the past two months since he and a few others go into the city to go to school during the year but now since it is summer, he is back in the village making me laugh and smile so much my cheeks hurt. This past week when I went to Shiparango, the kids were fighting for who got to hold my hand as we walked to the car. How do you hold hands with someone who doesn't have any fingers? I thought Andre might be self-conscious about this but he wasn't- he thrust his little nub into my giant man-hand and I held onto his nub as he smiled away at me and I fought back tears. This boy is simply amazing and a true testament to the joy that God gives despite circumstances here on earth. Andre has every reason in the world to be bitter and resentful, but there is not a hint of such negativity in him. He is all joy, all laughs and smiles, always with a baby on his hip, a glimmer in his eye and a joke on his lips. I love this little boy more than I thought possible.Andre and several of the other children who have been attending school in the city, have learned to count to ten in English and were so proud to show off their skills. It cracks me up to hear him make up English words. When we got past the number 10 and he tried to keep counting although he didn't know the words and I couldn't suppress my laughter. I taught the kids another game that requires few instructions: thumb wars; a classic game advantageous for those of us with huge thumbs. (smart thinking Katie: introduce them to a game requiring fingers. Oops. Don't worry- Andre is a champ with his left hand) I mentioned my gianormous man-hands and I hate to brag, but I dominated those kids! They all laughed hysterically when I pinned their thumb down with my own and then yelled, "Winner!" You may think I should let them win, but if you think that way, you do not understand the heart of a true competitor: we do not let anyone beat us no matter the circumstances.The above picture cracks me up because there is so much randomness going on. We were supposed to be showing off our "thumbs." The little girl next to me is my little side-kick who insists on always being held and can't quite figure out how to stick her thumb up. Her mother, trying to show her how, is always offering for me to keep her permanently. She's joking- I hope. Bernardo, Andre's older brother, is right next to me staring at my giant thumbs wondering how it is possible for a girl to have such large fingers. The preggo woman next to him is one of my favorites. We can't communicate but I have a feeling we will be friends in heaven. No clue what she's looking at- reminds me of my friend Jenny who is never looking during a picture. One of the men is apparently trying to cheer up the toddler Vladimir with the Word of God- interesting tactic but it does not appear to be working. Notice the rolling, grassy hills in the background? No mystery why I love being in this village so much.

When Madalena and I first arrived in Shiparango this past week, she informed me that things looked differently in the village. It had rained a lot while I was in America and the village has transformed during these summer months from a dry, dreary and desolate land into a beautiful, lush, green area. The other big change is that the members of the church had built a temporary shelter to meet under. To protect themselves from the frequent rains and beating sun, they put up poles and a tarp to meet under until a permanent hut is built. I now have a new understanding of "church building." The members have been taking an offering since the church started last February and even though all the members live below what we would consider the poverty line, they always give an offering. They've proven that a church is not a building but at the same time have always hoped for enough funds to build a hut to meet in instead of under the tree. After a year of saving, they raised enough to buy a few bushels of reeds for the future hut. This past Sunday an "elder" in the church (literally, a very very old man) spoke about the future church building and asked everyone to give an additional 5 mets. Only a few people could afford to give this additional offering of what equates to about a quarter. In the picture below, several members of the congregation are sitting in front of the future walls of our church. If you are interested in helping this congregation fund the building of their church, please e-mail me. I will find out the exact costs but Madalena estimates that the hut will cost roughly $ 300 to build. Different type of budget than we're used to in America huh?Meeting with these amazing Christians has changed my view of what a "church" is. This church has no walls, no benches or chairs, no choir, no instruments, no official pastor and yet they are a church. They are the body. They remind me of the early Church. They are a family and they care for each other. After the service this past week, we went to a hut to pray for a family who had recently lost a baby to disease and were in mourning. God knew exactly what had happened and what encouragement they would need and had prepared Madalena by having her read the book of Job the day before. None of the congregation had heard the story of Job so Madalena told the entire story to the mourning family while the whole church listened in. For a people who endure great suffering in this life, they could all relate with Job and were encouraged by his story.

When I look around Maputo and see poverty, sorrow, and suffering, I often find myself asking, "Why God? Why do you allow it?" Then I am reminded of Job's story and how he too doubted God's fairness. I love reading God's response in chapters 38-41 basically saying, "Look who I am. Who are you to question me?" and then I love reading Job's response in chapter 42:

Then Job replied to the Lord: " I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted. You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my counsel without my knowledge?'

Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. You said, ' Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.' My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.' "

I am convicted by Job's response when I am tempted to doubt God and His goodness when I see suffering; when I think of that little boy in India, or the little girl in the Philippines, or of Andre. I do not understand everything about my God but I know that He is good, that he loves those children more than I do, and that I will daily try to surrender my life and my will to Him because He is worthy.