I know it has been ages since I last updated my blog. I could give excuses about having to trek to internet, my schedule being cramped, or being too exhausted (which are all true, mind you), but I will tell you the truth: I've been completely avoiding it. I'm not sure what it is about posing a blog that scares me so much, but it just does. I figure I will want to look back on these and remember the amazing experiences I have had here in Timor Leste, so I decided it was time to give it another shot. I can't update you on everything that has happened so far, because that would just take too long. But I will share a kinda old story, that may be new to you. I started an English class that meets on Sundays. I enlisted Meghan's help and a few other friends from out church, and all our neighborhood kids ages 7-12 are welcome to come. I know it sounds strange to start another school-type thing when I already have to teach 5 days of the week, but this is something special, something close to my heart. Whenever I leave my gate I see groups of kids in torn clothing, playing with old tires, and begging for coins or candy. One day I decided to meet them, something I had been wanting to do for months but didn't have the courage for. I walked just down the street to my friend Kiky's house where they have a shop in front of their house. I bought three dollars worth of "paun", or bread rolls, which is a whole trash bag full of around 30 fist-sized rolls, and marched over to the place where the children always play. Instead of calling to them, I sat down near their tightly packed homes and messily ate a roll of bread. Nothing happened. I forced myself to relax and look normal. Still nothing happened. I ate a bit slower. I was worried I would have to eat another piece of bread before anyone would approach me, but thankfully a little girl walked up. She shyly looked at my bag full of bread and up again at me, a smile tickling the corners of her mouth. I gently called, "Mai", which means come, and she quickly ran away. Within a few minutes she came bounding back, dragging a friend behind her. They stood a few feet away and longingly looked at the paun I was eating. "Hakarak han paun ga?" I asked, wondering if they wanted to eat some bread too. Quickly they rushed towards my open bag and each grabbed a roll. My heart lept with joy, maybe finally I would make some neighborhood friends! Soon the girls were calling to all the children, and they came from every direction. I hadn't even seen this many children playing there, and they were all rushing at ME. Within second, all the bread was gone and the remaining "plastics", as they call them here, were being torn to pieces. I broke up a few fights over the bread and started using all the Tetun I knew. I found out their names, ages, and where they are from. And then I started asking them about school. I wasn't quite sure how to word it, but with the help of two older boys who knew a bit of english, I was able to piece together the picture of their stories. Most of the kids there went to a public school and some of them didn't even go to school at all. (The unfortunate reality of public education here is that each grade meets for two hours with their teacher. There is one teacher per 60 students, and because the teachers are afraid of being hurt (or worse) by angry parents, even if the students aren't able to complete the tasks in their grade level, they are passed and sent on to the next grade. Because of this, some students reach 8th grade without being able to read.) This breaks my heart. I realized the dire situation that these beautiful children were in. And I wanted to do something to help. Helpful or not, I decided starting a free english class every Sunday would be something I could do with some effort. That first day they came rushing in the gate exactly at 3:00 pm. 20 some odd children from 7-12 with absolutely no english ability, with the exception of maybe a "Hello! How are you?" showed up. I was terrified and delighted at the same time. Could I really do this thing? I immediately stopped myself and realized that this was God's thing. And He could do it - for sure. Somehow, we made it through those two long hours. And when we had closing prayer and said goodbye, they all rushed towards us teachers to touch our hands to their foreheads or lips in respect. As we pursue relationships with these children, help them learn some english, and point them to our Heavenly Father, I ask that you pray for us. I believe God can do amazing things in these beautiful children's lives. Until next time, Miss McEddy
1 Comment
Barbara Frohne
2/20/2017 01:29:06 pm
This is beautiful love. May God bless all the children you minister to on Sundays, and help you know how to reach them. P.S. Do keep writing your stories.
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AuthorI am an elementary education major and am in love with Jesus Christ. I want to serve Him as best as I can, which has lead me to this missions experience. I also love painting and drawing, cooking, crafting, and spending time with people I love. I grew up living in a whole bunch of different places as a child, so the airplane is a place I feel comfortable. Archives
February 2017
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