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Sabbath Day

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Sunday Worship

8 dogs wandered in and out of church today as we sat down inside and outside for our classes. There weren’t any pigs which was nice because they can be awfully noisy. The lady in front of me picked out lice from a little girls hair and dropped it to the ground just as the sacrament water was being passed around. Sacrament is something we do in our church to remind us of the sacrifice Jesus made for us when He gave His life for us. We have young men who pass around trays filled with little cups of water that has been specially blessed. Each person who has entered into baptism has the opportunity to take a small cup of water and drink it in remembrance of the blood of Jesus.

As the tray passed by I took my cup and handed it on to my daughter. There were only two little cups of water left one with a tiny bit of water and one with a lot of water. My 10 year old daughter took the cup with only a little water in it. She is ultra paranoid about germs and looked to me to ask “has this already been used”, obviously it wouldn’t have been there if it had been used, so I shook my head ‘no’ as she drank it down. But the young man passing the sacrament tried to cover his laugh as he grimly whispered ‘yes’ at the same time. oops. She was sicked out- poor little girl!

Sacrament was now finished and It was my turn to go up. I stood looking at the large congregation (there were nearly 100 of us), behind the worn out pulpit in our little outdoor church building. The microphone was working today which was a big bonus so I wouldn’t have to shout to be heard.

It was my turn to give a talk. I couldn’t do it in Bislama, even though I’ve been here for 3 months, all I can really say is ‘hello, what is your name’ and ‘my name is Rebecca’. Pretty pathetic I know…

I got asked to give the talk last night before I went to bed. At home In Canada I need at least two weeks warning before giving a talk in front of our congregation. This gives me enough time to research, pray, practice and memorize the whole thing. Then I reread it and say it out loud practicing looking up at the audience as I speak a few times. All of this prep time gives me enough courage to face the sea of people who will be listening as I deliver my well thought out speech in my clean, electrified, air conditioned, quiet church building. Okay, well maybe not quiet.

I realized when I was asked to give the talk at the last minute, and didn’t have that usual feeling of anxiety that accompanies such a task, that things here have given me a whole new perspective on my life back home. It suddenly hit me that in North America we have an entire culture surrounding the idea of perfection.

Our homes are getting bigger and bigger, and cleaner and cleaner, our cars nicer and nicer, our phones better and better and more and more expensive, our education is expanding at an astonishing rate. We have access to more information, more types of foods, more job opportunities and more technologies than have ever existed in the entire history of mankind. And all of this has created a culture where the humans that exist inside of it are stressed and depressed and in bondage to more debts and addictions than ever before.

I realised as I prepared my talk that I was living as one of those human beings. Trying to be the perfect mother, neighbour, church goer, friend, visiting teacher, wife, daughter and community member. I was so worried about how I APPEARED that I allowed my happiness to be hijacked by trying to fit in and measure up. I always wanted my house to be clean, my meals to be healthy, my lessons to be clever, my kids talents to be explored…on and on the list goes without ever satisfying the endless list of demands.

The seams on the wooden pulpit I was standing behind were all coming apart and the wood was swelling in the joints, but nobody cared because they were just happy to have a pulpit at all. The church building that we were under was a patchwork of tin and grass and plywood, but it was okay because they were just happy to have somewhere to worship outside of the elements. I could have given a talk in Chinese and nobody would have minded. Now in front of them, they just all looked at me with caring kind faces, smiling and nodding as I went off in English.

I might cry, or talk too fast or too slow, or too loud or not talk at all and it wouldn’t matter. In fact, yesterday a girl got up to speak at a baptism and just stood there staring at us for ages. Nobody minded or was impatient, and eventually when she whispered words into the microphone that none of us could understand we all just smiled.

Because here, WHO you are and WHAT you are is good enough. And God provides the sun and rain and the fruit on the trees and the fish in the oceans and there is no reason to complain or wish for anything more.

It was never more evident that our culture in North America is sick and that all this destructive perfection seeking is an exhausting way to live. I promised myself today that I would PAUSE. Just wait a moment in silence and remember the simple blessings and gifts that God has given me and thank Him and praise Him. Have a happy Sabbath 🙂 This worldschooling experience has been inspiring in so many ways!

A Super Soggy Sunday

Rain water was still drizzling down when it was time to leave for church but there was still no other way to get there than the back of the truck. So the kids crammed in, 9 in front and 7 in the back, water splashing on their dresses and wind blowing their hair. We arrived island style 😉
Church wasn’t inside because they were doing construction on the regular chapel. So an outdoor structure had been turned into our Sunday worship hall. It was actually bigger than the regular chapel and quite a bit cooler so I enjoyed it. The ground was made of corral and there was tarps all around and one at the front to keep out the rain. To make the tarp look prettier there was a lace tablecloth strung over top. It didn’t really do the trick but you could tell the intention was nice.
It was still quite a hot day even with the rain, but it was made perfect because of the people I got to share it with.
Honestly, who can resist the beautiful smiles of his precious girls? And their adorable baby brothers? Can you see how hot everybody looks? The funny thing is that while I am busy fanning myself the locals have socks on their babies and fur hats on their kids. No joke- it’s the cold season here!
They didn’t have anyone to play the piano again this week, and so Analaea was asked to do it. She’s quite a good piano player, however feels self-conscious because half the keys don’t work and it makes the song sound bad when she plays it. I was so happy that she willingly accepted their invitation. They have a little electric keyboard and usually a girl named Sarah plays for church, but apparently she’s stopped going to church and for the last month there hasn’t been anyone else to play.
The Sunday gathering was lovely, even though we still don’t understand anything they are saying its amazing to me how feelings can just come across through the language barrier. I really enjoyed being there today.
As soon as we got home the boys found a tarp that had collected water through the night and decided to take baths in their Sunday clothes… those stinkers.

Our First Sunday in Vanuatu

Birds chirped, the rooster crowed and the soft whispers of the children all wafted into the bedroom reminding me it was time to wake up. Today was Sunday, it was our first day at church in this new country.
We had plenty of time to get ready for the 9:30 meeting. After a breakfast of homemade pancakes with lime/passionfruit syrup we all began getting dressed. At home this usually signals curling irons, hair dryers and perfumes galore, but here it was evident that all of that was unnecessary. I should have known that something was wrong when I heard the girls going back and forth, clothes on, clothes off. It turns out that the dressed we brought which required (as most dresses do nowadays) bras, slips, slip extenders and undershirts. The problem was the weather was hot that nobody really wanted extra layers of clothes to go to church. After much debate in the end we voted that the sheer, thin, short look was going to be our new style. With many Nivans going nearly naked or half naked I’m sure we weren’t scandalizing anyone and we were all much more comfortable.
I had already brought all the girls clothes with us, but since Eric’s suitcase had got lost he was without a Sunday outfit. Luckily on Saturday we had visited a local store and found a dollar bin where all the clothes were a dollar. It was certainly an interesting assortment of clothes and one shirt I picked up was covered in mould, another bleached in various patterns. After a few minutes we actually found a pair of Sunday pants and a nice short sleeve blue Sunday shirt. The outfit cost $2, which in Vanuatu money is approximately 200 Vatu.
We found the church building down the road. A simple structure that was run completely on solar power. With windows for walls and the doors wide open the building began filling up with locals and a few visitors. We found our seats at the back after some friendly faces greeted us. With flies buzzings and a few dogs wandering around it became apparent that I would not be able to enjoy the meeting inside the building. The heat was growing with each new person that entered and the whole place smelled like a mixing pot of body odor that wasn’t very pleasant.
I opted to take one of the chairs that was being set up outside because there wasn’t enough space inside for everyone. With the breeze off the ocean it was much more pleasant outside.
The entire meeting was in Bishlama which is a pigeon language that has many similar words to English but not enough that I understood anything.
Everyone assures me that given a few weeks I’ll get the hang of it and maybe understand something. I admit now that I think I was weary about going to church for three hours in scorching heat without being able to understand the language. I looked over at a wrinkled man in front of me and watched as the first notes of the piano drited outside, he carefully reached into his bag and brought out a crumpled, mouldy hymnbook with his name scratched boldly across the front of it. I was struck by the love this man obviously had for this hymnbook that was so special to him. As the prelude music finished and the hymn began he sang with total devotion and reverence.
By the time the opening hymn began I was totally overcome with the beauty of worshipping. The sea of brown and white faces all mixed together singing struck me with wonder. All feelings of discontent were washed away and I was perfectly satisfied exactly where I was.
Throughout the meeting the babies and dogs wandered in and out. I had to use the bathroom but found out that it neither had toilet paper or water to flush. That was interesting, but all in all the day was perfect.