A Home to Return to

Recently I met at Starbucks with a couple of friends of mine.  One friend in particular was asking me how many more laser treatments I would need for my birthmark.  Responding, I told her something like, "I don't know.  I can stop when I want to stop or I can keep going.  I had them as a child but decided to stop when I was about 11-years-old, and my mom said, 'okay', and let me stop.  When I was about 18-years-old, I told my mom I wanted to continue - and she told me 'okay' again, and I continued."  She said something to the effect of, "You have a good mom who supports you and your decisions."

And that's the thing.  I do have a good mom.  In fact, I have a great mom who supports me and my decisions...and recently, I've realized how I sometimes take her - and my dad - for granted.

Lately I've been reminded more and more about how blessed I am to have my parents in my life.  During the last few weeks, I keep hearing stories of people who don't have such a great support system in their lives.

I have friends who don't want to go home, because if they do, they have to "deal with their family".  I have friends who's parents aren't kind to them with their words, who put their child (my friend) down.  My friends have parents who tell their children that they aren't pretty enough, thin enough, or that they deserve to become sick, they deserve to go through an emotional hard time, etc, etc.

In my ASL (American Sign Language) classes I learn of stories of children who are Deaf who have gone through horrendous medical experiments, therapies, and treatments - even when they requested that they stop.  (This happened/happens when parents are new to having a Deaf child and rely on doctors for advice.  The parents want what is best for their child, but what they are told to do by their doctors doesn't always end up being the best option.)  My teachers, friends, and classmates who are Deaf share what it is like to grow up Deaf in a hearing family...Being left out of conversations, social activities, and being left completely alone.  One friend even shared that his mother left the family when they found out he was deaf.

The other week, I was with a group that included 6 of my friends (two friends are Deaf, the other four are hearing).  We were trying to figure out who all wanted to go to Wal-Mart, so we asked both the hearing and Deaf friends in the group if they wanted to to to the store.  If we all went, we would take two cars, as we all wouldn't fit into one.  If some wanted to stay at the apartment until we got back, we only need to take one vehicle.  One of my Deaf friends responded, "I don't need to go.  I'm use to being alone.  I'm use to my family leaving me out."  Needless to say - we took two cars and made sure that all 6 of us went to the store together that night.

Two weekends ago I also went to see The Deafhood Monologues.  The monologues included many true stories based on experiences and the history of Deaf culture and people, but one story particular stood out to me...and has come to my mind everyday since the performance.

During the monologues, actress Shira Gravelsky presented a (true) story of a woman who went to an adoption agency.  The woman that Shira played met a young girl who loved to draw - regardless of the fact that she was missing fingers.  Shira's character spoke to someone in charge, asking if the little girl was born without her fingers.  To her character's surprise, the little girl's current condition was not to be faulted due to her development in the womb or due to a birth problem.  It was faulted by a recent, tragic, life event.

The little girl was born deaf.  She learned to do some sign language, but then her parents took her to a doctor who dubbed signing and ASL as bad.  The doctor insisted that the parents push oralism and speech therapy on the child - and told them not to let their daughter sign or use ASL.

Her parents tried to get her to go oral, but she continued to sign.  Her dad became infuriated and one day yelled, "Is she signing again??  Is she?  Make her stop!  Make her speak!...Is she signing??  Make her put her hands out!"  So, the child was forced to lay out her hands - and bam!  Her father took a knife and cut off all his child's fingers.  (The child's parents went to jail.)

I listen to stories like this and my heart breaks.  I listen to my friends talk about their strained relationships with their parents who aren't very kind, and I become extremely saddened.  My heart has broken so many times during the last two months as I hear stories in class or through new friends.  All the people I've heard share about their poor home life are such beautiful people, and I can't imagine how their parents don't see the beauty in their own children, or how they don't accept their child as they are.  Hearing about all of these stories and experiences...I am reminded of how lucky and blessed I am to have the parents that I have.

When it comes to my health and to my body, my parents have never forced me to do anything I haven't wanted to do.  Like with my laser treatments.  If I want to have them, they're okay with it.  My mom even drives me to and from - 3 hours each direction.  If I want to stop the treatments, they are okay with that too.  And when I was diagnosed with chronic pain at the age of 12?  My parents made sure that I got the best treatment possible to help relieve as much of the pain as possible.

If I need help with friend situations or need advice of any kind, I know I can trust my parents.  I know they'll think rationally and not attempt to feel bad about any of the situations.  They try to encourage me through their advice.  They're not afraid to be honest with me if I'm in the wrong or need correcting, but they correct me in love and in a tender way in hopes of helping me grow as a person through the situation.

My parents have let me travel the world without them since I was 15-years-old.  They want me to travel, understanding that the world is a big and unique place.  They've encouraged me to spend 6 months in London, and supported me when I wanted to go to Japan to help with the disaster relief efforts after the tsunami hit.  Even though the tsunami and issues Japan was having with the nuclear plants and radiation made my parents a little nervous, they knew I felt like I need to go and they trusted in God to keep me safe.

When I decided to move to Germany for 6 months, my parents let me make my own decision and told me it was a good, once in a life time oppurtunity.  When I decided it was best for me to come home from Germany 4 months early, my parents were once again in full support.  They welcomed me home with wide-open arms and picked me up from the airport.

Whenever my parents see an area I become interested in, they encourage me to persue my new interest.  If I enjoy a new hobby, they support me.  My dad, after all, is the one who surprised me when I was 13-years-old as he bought me my first SLR camera - seeming completely at random at the time.  I remember coming home from school, seeing a Nikon D50 on the table, and asking my dad, "Who's is that??"  He told me, "It's yours."  I don't even remember asking for a camera.  Asking him tonight why he bought the camera for me, he recalled realizing my growing interest in creating videos and thought I needed a better camera to help me out in the new hobby.  Little did he know how much photography would become part of my life!

And in college...Even when I change my major for the 3rd or 4th time, my parents always insist that they want me to major in what I love, what I'm passionate about, and what makes me happy.

My parents have accepted that I am living my life and am trying to live it to the fullest.  They've stuck with me through the good times, and the most trying times.  They even try to give me experiences that they possibly didn't have themselves as a child or young adult.

I just can't imagine having parents who don't accept me for who I am.  I can't imagine having parents who ignore me, or force me to do things I don't want to do, or who make me feel ugly and awful about myself.  I've been blessed with parents who are patient, kind, encouraging, accepting, and who have instilled that beauty runs much deeper than skin deep.  They've taught me to be proud of who I am, even through my differences.

My life could have been extremely different had I been born into a different, less supportive family...And I just want to thank my parents.

Thanks, mom and dad.  Thank you for being great, supportive, encouraging, and loving parents.  Thank you for being parents that I enjoy spending time with.  I hope that if I ever become married, and have children, that I am half as great as you two.

Thank you for giving me a home that I want to return home to at night.

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

It Happened in a Pretzel Shop

It happened in a pretzel shop.

Once my plane landed back in Fresno, I hit the ground running.  Within about 12 hours of landing, I was already out having lunch with friends and having family dinners.  Within 36 hours, less than two days after arriving home from Germany, I went out shopping with my mom, sister, and aunt.

While we were out shopping, we went out to an outlet mall with all kinds of shops.  Famous Footwear, Claire's, Lane Bryant, Bath and Body Works, etc...There were many people around the stores that day, and I was able to understand every word being spoken around me by every person.  I was back in my English-speaking American culture after being away for two months!

Apparently, though, two months is all it takes to have the 'joy' of experiencing reverse culture shock.

My sister, mom, and I stuck together as my aunt went to another store that only she wanted to shop in.  We went into a couple of stores before heading into a pretzel shop that smelled deliciously tempting.

Once in the shop, I read the flavor options to my mom and sister.  Well, okay, I read the three or four that sounded good to me out of the 10 or so listed.

Asking my mom and sister which one they wanted to share, they both told me, "I don't know which one I want...you decide."  I insisted that they all sounded good to me so I wanted them to chose, and they also insisted that I make the decision.

That's when it happened.

In the middle of a pretzel shop my brain shut down.  I literally could not make a decision.  As tears threatened to spill out of my eyes, I became overwhelmed and firmly told my mom, "I can't make this decision. I need you to make it this time."

I couldn't get out of that pretzel shop quick enough.  My sister, mom, and I found a picnic table outside of the shop so we could sit down to enjoy our freshly baked treats...but my mind was still in overload as I gazed off into space.

My mom was asking me what was wrong, and I honestly don't recall what I told her in response.  Trying to avoid questions, I probably something like, "I'm fine - just tired and jet lagged."  I guess my sister couldn't quite hear what was being said, as she asked, "What??"

I'm usually pretty mellow.  Rarely do I snap - but for some reason, I did that day.  Before I could stop myself I couldn't help but snap out, "I don't want to talk about it!!"...As I stood up and walked away...and kept walking.  The tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes 10 minutes earlier had finally acted upon their threat.

At the table they were asking me questions about what was wrong.  When they called my phone after my "moment", they asked more questions.  I kept telling them I was fine.  After all, how would I be able to answer their questions about what had just taken place, when I didn't know the answers for myself?  All I knew was my mom and sister weren't the cause for my reaction...It wasn't their fault, and I felt awful for responding in the way that I did.

Even four days laters, I still don't know what came over me.  I've heard about this happening to missionaries after they spent 2-4 years overseas in other countries.  But, I've never heard of this happening to someone being gone for just two months.  Even after spending six months in London, England, I never had a moment like this.  Sure, I had other types of moments when I returned home from London - like realizing how many new songs were on the radio in just half a year or how many new slang terms were imbedded into the American vocabulary.  But nothing so...dramatically overwhelming.  (Granted, I do realize England is a different culture than Germany and my surroundings and experiences were completely different.)

For those of you wondering, "You were only in Germany two months?  I thought you were going to be there for six months?"  I realize I have confused a lot of people.  My plans changed and I chose to return home four months early.  That choice was not an easy one.  A part of me wonders if my moment in the pretzel shop was a result from my mind being completely overwhelmed from making many big and difficult decisions in the recent days and weeks, that it hit a point of being unable to make a small, simple, decision.

Who knows why I reacted the way I did, but here's to hoping that will be the only moment of its kind!

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

Beautiful Norway

I've been home for a week now.  I've fallen behind on blogging, and have so much I need to write (at some point, but probably not today).

Most of you know that before I came home, my mom came to see me in London.  As I ended my time working she came to see where I had been living and to meet those that I've been working, living, and building friendships with during the last six months.  We spent a week touring parts of London, partaking in parts of team life, as well as packing my two suitcases to come home.

My mother and I then had a vacation planned.  However, this vacation?  It did not go as planned!  We ended up going on our own adventure that was completely unexpected.  Long story short...I ended up really sick (I've never been so sick in my life!) and hospitalized in the country of Norway.  (Being hospitalized in Norway...That's something to kick off the bucket list, right??)

From what I could see out of the ambulance, Norway looks like a beautiful country!  I'd actually like to return one day to visit and to see more of the country outside of the hospital walls.  In my hospital room, I did have quite the view though!  The sun didn't go down until nearly midnight.  At one point in the morning, I remember waking up (probably around 4 a.m.), and the sky was literally purple.  I've never seen anything quite like it.  It would have made quite the picture had I not been feeling too lousy to take one!

All my doctors and nurses were really nice.  They were all tall and blonde...and they spoke English really well!  I can't remember how long I was in the hospital...If it was one night or two...But I remember a nurse coming in my room in the early hours to check on me.  I hadn't met this nurse yet, and when she woke me up she said something.  Being half asleep and confused, I couldn't understand her.  My response was, "huh?"  She repeated herself.  Once again, I said, "Huh?"  She then repeated herself again...and then it hit me.  I told her, "Oh, I only speak English!"  I had forgotten I was in another country where English is not their first language.

Apparently hospitals in Oslo (the city we were in) rotate every month on which one takes the foreigners.  Again, they on I ended up was really great and the doctors were wonderful.  (The hospital I was in is actually a Christian hospital.)  Someone asked me, "Were you scared?  Were you scared to be in the hospital, sick, and overseas?"  I told them, "Honestly?  No...I wasn't."  I think I was too tired and feeling too horrible to be scared, but I also somehow knew there wasn't really a reason to be scared.  After all, God was/is in control - even if there was a problem that had required surgery.

Really, any energy I had was spent on wanting to go home.  The funny thing is, I told God, "I just want to go home...California or London!"  After I said that, I thought, "Wait - when did I start considering London home??"  I knew that it had become in some ways, but didn't realize that it had become home even in these kinds of moments.  (Maybe it had to do with the comfort of knowing I had friends who would be there if anything was truly wrong...I'm not sure...But I think that had something to do with it.)

Not only was I not scared because I lacked energy, but I knew that I had family and friends praying for me!  I got messages from friends around the world telling me that they were praying for me.  Messages ranged from California, the Philippines, London, Japan, Tennessee, Spain...The list goes on.  God has blessed me with really great friends, family members, and prayer partners!

For those of you who prayed, thank you so much!  You are a blessing.  I am home now and have just about gotten back to my normal self.  There wasn't anything wrong found that concerns the doctors here in California, or in Norway.

Now I'm working on adapting to my home in California.  If you'd like to continue to pray for me, pray for the adapting process.

Until next time!

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

London Pictures

I haven't been in London long.  However, before starting two weeks of orientation (followed after two weeks of training before arriving), our team had the day off yesterday after a "Welcome Breakfast" and we went out and saw a little part of London.  We took the Tube and saw a museum that is currently holding the picture of "The Last Supper".  (We didn't go see it as it would of cost us 16 pounds each - which is about $30 - to see the full gallery and the part we actually looked at was free.  But I did see the painting from afar.)  We then went and saw the Big Ben.  My British friend says this is a super American thing to say, but because of the photos I had seen of the Big Ben before arriving, I always imagined it to be taller. While walking to the Big Ben we even passed by where the Prime Minister lives.

Here are some of my favorite photos that I took yesterday...

If you click on the photos they should get bigger for better viewing.

London is a beautiful city full of years and years of amazing history.  In all honesty, I don't know as much about England or the UK as I would like to.  While I am here I hope to further my knowledge in not just the culture but in the history and stories of London.

Today we started training and orientation.  From 9:30 in the morning to about 5:30 in the evening, we are in classrooms learning what we need to learn.  It's a lot of information.  After two weeks of information in Germany, I'm very thankful we had two days to rest before receiving more information here in London.  Otherwise I think there would of been a brain overload issue happening.  Ha.

Tonight I've started laundry for the first time since leaving.  That's 2 1/2 weeks worth of clothes and two loads.  To get to the laundry machines I have to go up and down three flights of stairs each time I need to change the loads.  Tonight I went down to change one load, getting all the way down the stairs to realize that I took the wrong coins to pay the machine!  Oops!  I won't make that mistake again!  At least I know I'll be getting good exercise while here, especially on laundry day. ;-)

Throughout the last few weeks I feel my ankle and leg getting stronger.  While it does get weary and sore, the muscles are slowly returning and the strength is growing.  It feels good to be moving again and to be getting exercise - even if it's just stairs.  I think today alone I've gone up and down close to 20 flights of stairs, which is way more than what I was doing before coming to Europe as I had just started walking again after spending a few months on crutches and in bed.  If you remember, please keep my ankle in your prayers.  While it is getting stronger in some ways, it still hurts and gets sore.  I know I shouldn't stress about my ankle but it is often a daily stressor, wondering if my ankle will be strong enough for the day or be able to walk quick enough to keep up with others.  Pray that it'll continue to grow stronger and will bother me and swell less and less, being able to walk more each day (and more quickly!!  That is a work in process!  I walk like a turtle, or so it seems to me...).  Pray I'll be able to keep it as safe as possible without hurting it again in anyway while I am gone and away from my fabulous podiatrist I have at home.

Oh!  Also...After about three nights of being in London (total of about 2 1/2 weeks of traveling) I am able to unpack my suitcases into my new room!  When arriving there was someone who was still in the process of arriving.  I'm not completely unpacked, but boy does it feel good to have some of my stuff out and in its rightful places!  Can you guess what I did first?  Before I even actually unpacked or did my first load of laundry while being away, I decorated my bulletin board with my photos from home.  While, yes, my clothes being put in their proper places, shoes being neatly stored under my bed, and all of that makes a place more like home...Photos of my family and friends are what make a home my home.  It's a board I can look with a smile on my face, seeing those that I love and that I know love me in return and that I know are praying for me as I am on this journey.  It's a board of memories I can reflect on when feeling homesick, or even when I miss other friends who live in random places of the world.  It's a board of encouragement.  I'll try to post a photo of my board and the room soon!

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal

Carmen's New Home

There wasn’t a bedroom for each person to have his or her own personal space. There wasn’t indoor plumbing. A fancy kitchen? They didn’t have that either. Instead of a tile, wood, or carpet floor, all that separated you from the dirt was the shoes on your feet. For Carmen and her family, they were lucky if they even had shoes to wear.

When it rained over their home Carmen and her children often got wet. Instead of a sturdy roof and thick walls to protect them from wet weather, they had a leaking flimsy tarp to be their protector. A blanket was their home’s door, and cutouts of the tarp were their windows. When it was hot (as it often is in Ensenada, Mexico) outside their home felt like an oven burning up inside.

Their home had no doors, locks, windows, toilets, bedrooms, sinks, a refrigerator, or floors.

Carmen had five other family members currently living with her under this tarp that created two “rooms” for all five of them. Living with her is her 21-year-old daughter with her three young children (Carmen’s grandchildren…And sadly, I can’t remember all their names), and Carmen’s 15-year-old son Alejandro. Looking around their home you also see chickens, roosters, turkeys, and kittens walking around. Both Carmen and her daughter were once married but both of their husbands left them - leaving them to fend for themselves as they try to support their young families.

Alejandro even took it upon himself to drop out of school to take care of his family. Instead of going to school to further his education and to live life as a teenager he has acted beyond his age. After dropping out of school Alejandro got a job on the fields so he can financially support his family. At the age of 15 he took it upon himself to become the “man of the family” and provide for his mom, sister, nieces, and nephew.

For 15 years Carmen dreamed of having a better home. Her life dream was to have a home of her own with a floor not made of dirt, with sturdy walls, and a strong roof.

In June 2011 a team of workers from Fresno, California hit the road to head down to Ensenada to help Carmen’s dream become a reality. I feel honored to be able to participate as a member of the team.

For one week our church’s youth group worked with another local church in our hometown. We were able to come from two separate churches to create one strong and hardworking team. Together we laughed, we cried, made memories, held devotions, worked together, and made lasting friendships. Together we nailed boards and painted Carmen’s home. We played with lots of children and got to know the Mexican church throughout different ministries. Regardless of language barriers and different cultures, we got to know the locals of Ensenada and learn their stories, dreams, and heartaches.

I’ll never forget the week we spent in Ensenada and the people we got to meet. The moment that I know will forever be in my mind is the day we gave Carmen the key her new home.

All week Carmen and her family chose to work along side us helping with the painting and nailing. Once the first day of building was over and the team started to leave, Carmen’s family sat on the cement foundation of their almost-built-home just looking around at the wooden posts that would soon be the walls. I can’t even imagine the level of excitement the family must have been feeling that night (or all week!) or the thoughts going through their heads.

Tears trickled down her face as Carmen's 15-year-old dream finally came true. Just moments before the house dedication, I remember Carmen and her children anxiously look around the corner of their soon to be former home. The looks of excitement, aw, disbelief, and hope touched my heart.

When dedicating the house the team passed around the key that would soon be handed over to the family. As each person held the key, they had a few minutes to share some words with the family. This was one of the most the most moving moments I have ever personally experienced.

Carmen’s family is forever in my heart and prayers. Next summer our group is planning to participate with People’s church to return to Mexico. I cannot wait to see Carmen’s family again and to give her sweet grandchildren a big hug.

Sincerely,

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal

PS: I know I posted links before, but if you didn't see it check out a video I made from our Mexico trip:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ply2HX4Ul8