Over the years I have had a lot of random jobs.  Seriously, check out this list:

1. Silk cutter and reed box assembler for a woodwind instrument supply company
2. Lifeguard
3. Packer for a moving company
4. Elementary and middle school substitute teacher
5. Waitress
6. College cafeteria dish room worker
7. Sales associate at a Pfaltzgraff outlet
8. Church equipping ministries intern
9. Teaching assistant for an elementary school reading program
10. Administrative assistant for a beverage magazine
11. Human Resourses representative at Bloomingdales and Morgan Stanley
12. College career counselor
13. Front desk assistant at a pediatric office

And now I will be adding to that list preschool ESL (English as a Second Language) instructor in Mexico City.  I certainly never would have guessed when I graduated with a bachelors degree in Psychology and masters degree in College Counseling that I would end up here, but the opportunity to work at my son's preschool a few hours a week kind of got thrown in my lap.  

To tell you the truth I'm a bit nervous about it.  It's not that I'm intimidated by preschoolers.  And yes, I certainly know how to speak English, but teaching preschoolers it is not exactly my field.  Plus, for the first time I will be in a situation where communicating with my coworkers is going to be a serious challenge, as they only speak Spanish, and although my grasp of the language has certainly improved over the last year it is still definitely lacking.  Nonetheless, next week I'll be jumping in head first.  We'll see how it goes.

In the meantime, this song keeps running through my head:

Make the Most of Me - Marie Miller

On my own, I'm afraid to step out on the sea. 
All alone, no mountain will move for me. 
But you breathe your life into my soul. 
You take away the impossible. 

I can feel your mystery moving in my hands and feet 
Leading me through disbelief, finding strength when I feel weak. 
You make the most of me. You make the most of me. 

With you here, I see sight return to the blind. 
When you're near, I can watch the dead come to life. 
You shine your light into our souls. 
You make all things possible. 

I can feel your mystery moving in my hands and feet 
Leading me through disbelief, finding strength when I feel weak. 
You make the most of me. You make the most of me. 

When I don't have the words, you will be my voice. 
When I don't understand, I will still rejoice. 
You make the most of me. You make the most of me. 

You make the most of me. You make the most of me. 

I can feel your mystery moving in my hands and feet 
Leading me through disbelief, finding strength when I feel weak. 
You make the most of me. You make the most of me. 

You make the most of me. You make the most of me.

And so, I keep praying that God makes the most of me in this situation and in general here in Mexico.  This was one of my biggest prayers before we even moved here - that somehow God would use me despite my inability to communicate.  In a very literal sense there are times when I don't have the words and I don't understand those around me.  Somehow, despite all that I'm hoping He works in me to not only teach and love these kids, but build some kind of relationship with my coworkers, the parents of the other children, and others I come in contact with in my daily life here.

I'm praying He makes the most of the little I have to give.

Sorry for the blogging delay.  I needed a little break. 

In two days we will head back to the United States for the first time in over 5 months.  There are so many things I am looking forward to – seeing friends and family, being able to fully converse with everyone around me, filling my belly with way too many cookies and various other American food offerings, the list goes on….

But for those who will actually have to get to see me in person I have a few warnings.  Some parts of Mexican life have become second nature.  Please don’t be surprised if I do any of the following:

1)      Greet every person I pass on the street with good morning, good afternoon, or good evening (probably in Spanish).

2)      Enter a room and greet each and every person before sitting down or stopping to have a full conversation (and also when leaving).

3)      Give you a kiss on the cheek when I greet you or say goodbye.  I assure you that I am not hitting on you.  It is simply the Mexican way.

4)      Feel the need to search for something for toilet paper and some change to pay the attendant before entering a public restroom. 

5)      Throw my toilet paper away in the trashcan rather than flushing it in a public restroom (although, unless you are stalking me, I’m not sure how you’ll know about this one).

6)      Expect there be someone to help me park in any given parking lot.

7)      Tip the bagger at a store or anyone helping out in the parking lot.

8)      Drive as if everyone on the road is out to get me and treat general traffic laws as somewhat optional (don’t worry, I’m going to really work at keeping this to a minimum).

9)      Try to light your stove or oven with a lighter.

10)  At any point reply to something you have said in broken Spanish.

That’s right, 2 days until we’re in Maryland and 11 days until we’re in Nevada.  Now you too can count down the days until you get to see these smiling faces.

I, like Sheldon Cooper, believe in the power of a hot beverage.  Unlike him, I did not develop this belief due to my mother’s insistence that anytime someone is sad they should be offered a hot beverage for comfort.  My belief stems from my personal experience.  I have seen the ability of a hot beverage to open up conversation and develop new bonds among individuals with very different backgrounds.

My first experience with this phenomenon occurred on a trip to Mexico when I was just 13 years old.  I was visiting Tijuana with a friend’s family and a group from their church along with several other groups from across the country.  Our goal was to build homes for several families who were living on as little as $2 a day.  We succeeded in this goal, but more importantly my 13 year old eyes were opened to a world beyond the comfortable American suburbia I called home.  During that trip I bonded with the 4 year old girl for whom my group was building a home.  Our bond started with something simple, our shared name - Abby, but by the end of the trip, at least for me, it became something far greater.  On the last night of the trip we prepared a “feast” for the families.  It reality it was simple meal of steak and potatoes, but for these families it was truly something special.  At the end of the night we sat under stars with cups of hot chocolate and stared up at a beautiful show of fireworks.  While Abby sat in my lap enamored with the lights in the sky, a show like none she had ever seen before, I sat enamored with this little girl who would grow up in a slum in Tijuana and probably never know much more of the world.  That night, over a hot beverage, my heart grew for the world beyond my own.  In reality, Abby was no different from me; she was simply born into very different circumstances.

Five years later I left for college.  Like any college student I bonded with new friends as we shared our lives over hot beverages in numerous coffee shops and dorm rooms, but these were not the hot beverages that truly changed my outlook on life.  The hot beverages that impacted me more were those I shared with a 13 year old girl.  I met Jasmine through a club I joined at my college.  The club, known on campus as Building Behind Bars, was an outreach of Prison Fellowship Ministries. Prison Fellowship works to bring reconciliation in the lives of prisoners and their families.  Angel Tree, the particular facet I was a part of, works with the children of prisoners, helping to bring reconciliation between parents who are in the prison and their children and providing mentoring for those children.  Jasmine was the child whom I was matched with to mentor.  For two years a friend and I regularly made the 45 minute drive to the small town where Jasmine and her sister lived.  We met and talked with them in various locations, but some of our most profound conversations occurred over hot cups of coffee at a local Panera Bread.  We talked about their lives growing up and their dreams for the future.  Over hot beverages we bonded across cultural and socioeconomic differences.  Like Abby, Jasmine was no different than me, she was simply born into very different circumstances, circumstances that shaped her life up to that point, circumstances that I still regularly pray do not shape the rest of her life.

Today, I once again had the chance to bond with other women over hot beverages.  These are not women who are circumstantially impoverished by place of birth, lack of money, or familial relations.  These are women like myself; stay-at-homes moms with husbands who are gainfully employed, healthy, happy children, and generally well-rounded lives.  The only difference is the country where we were born and the language we grew up speaking.  The language barrier has truly been my greatest barrier here in Mexico.  How do you develop a relationship with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as you?  How do you have a deep conversation and truly share your experiences?  These are the things I miss most here; these are the things I’m learning to overcome.  So, when a new friend from church invited me to come and get to know some of the other women over coffee I jumped at the chance with open arms.  I know the power of a hot beverage to develop bonds.  So, today I drove off to Starbucks nervous and excited.  I sat with other women and chatted, some in English, some in Spanish.  The conversation wasn’t particularly deep, but for me it was an open door; the beginning of something new.  It was a chance to find commonality, a chance to develop new relationships, and a chance to overcome my longing for more here in Mexico – my loneliness.  Today, the power of the hot beverage once again worked its magic to begin to overcome differences and build relationships.  I pray that this is only the beginning of this particular hot beverage story.

I’ve realized that lately I have become a bit lazy in my quest to learn Spanish. I need to start making more of a concerted effort or I’m never going to be able to have a serious conversation with anyone here.

I learn a little each day just by living here.  For example, yesterday the gas company called us from the apartment complex gate to let us know that there was someone here to collect our payment for the monthly gas bill (they come a couple times at the beginning of each month – it makes the whole payment process pretty convenient).  Dave answered the call and they asked if he wanted to come to the gate to pay or “que suba.”  He repeated “que suba,” looked at me quizzically to see if I knew what it meant, I shrugged my shoulders, he told them he didn’t understand the phrase, and then he headed down to the front gate.  While paying the bill he asked the guard at the gate what the phrase meant and he in turn motioned up to the apartment.  Aha!  We could ask them to come up to our apartment rather than coming down to the gate ourselves.  Tada, we learned a new phrase!  Que suba means to go up or to rise.

Side note: In addition to learning Spanish we’re developing some amazing pantomime skills.  We’re going to be killer charades players when we get back to the states.  Watch out for future game nights at our house!

Anyway, I need to be far more intentional about learning Spanish.  In an effort to do this I’m asking for a little help from you, dear reader.  Do you know a useful Spanish word or phrase that you could teach me?  Please share! (Please note: I’m already well aware of how to ask where to find the bathroom.)

Yesterday I drove for the first time in Mexico.  Yesterday marked three weeks living in Mexico.  It took me three weeks to get behind the wheel.  I drove to the grocery store.  The grocery store is less than 10 minutes away. I felt accomplished. 

When Dave’s brother first moved here someone told him that “driving in Mexico is a game of inches.”  Doesn’t that sound exciting?  Seriously though, merge lanes are a rare privilege here, lanes come, go, widen and narrow at whim (whose whim I'm not sure, certainly not mine), one way streets are semi-optional, and there’s a random guy at the corner of a major intersection in our neighborhood who has appointed himself director of traffic.  The traffic guy we like.  He occasionally gets tips when he’s particularly helpful. 

Added bonus: A picture of Eli in our rather empty apartment.

To drive here you have to be aggressive.  If you know me, you know that there is very little aggression in my petite 5’3” frame.  There’s going be a learning curve.  But last week I spoke with an American woman who has lived here for 4 years and never driven.  She’s afraid to try.  I drove after three weeks.  Check out that brazen courage!

Anyway, we went to the grocery store.  I’ve always been pretty good at finding things in stores.  Dave says that understanding the layout of stores and malls is my special power.  I’m not sure exactly what the action figure for Super Shopper Woman looks like, but I’m hoping soon you’ll be able to flip a switch on her back to put her in Spanish language mode.  In the meantime, thanks to the magic of Google Translator, I did manage to translate my whole grocery list before we went.  (Side note: Google advertising department, if you’re out there – I think I could be your next commercial, right after the girls who order Indian food.)  However, the Mexican grocery store is just a little different than the ones I’m used to in the United States.

Here are just a few of my insights: For one thing, Mexican’s apparently do very little baking at home.  The grocery store has a rather large section of fresh baked goods, but the section of baking ingredients is miniscule and I never did manage to find baking soda. Next, Mexicans don’t eat nuts.  I wanted to buy some raw almonds to keep around as a snack.  The largest package I found couldn’t have contained more than 20 nuts and cost double the amount I would have spent at my beloved Trader Joe’s (Trader Joe’s people, if you’re out there I will happily stand on the street corner and advertise for you if you’ll open a store in Mexico City).  Finally, Mexicans seem to believe that the main items that should be purchased in a can are refried beans and meat.  That’s right, meat.  There’s practically an entire aisle of meat in a can.  I wasn’t looking for meat in a can.  I was looking for butter beans in a can.  Butter beans are not an option in a can or otherwise.  Our tried and true White Chicken Chile will be made with Frijoles Bayo tonight (brown beans according to Google Translator), which came dried in a bag.  I currently have beans soaking in my kitchen for the first time in my life (I looked up how to do that on Google tooJ).  So, my cooking experiences are going to be a little different here.  On the upside, I will definitely become a more well-rounded and less recipe following cook.

Well, off to finish my cup of pineapple and coconut yogurt.  They don’t sell the vanilla yogurt I wanted, but I think I could get used to this breakfast version of a piña colada. More mundane to come…