Your __________ looks good!

The words echoed across the dorm as I stepped out of my apartment. The voice, that of a strong, 17-year-old African young man,

"Aunt Cindyyyyy!!!! You look so buff!"

Now, I understand that in African culture, this is a high compliment. However, this child plans to attend college in the US. It is time for a lesson on complimenting girls.

So gather the non-Americans who plan to go to school in America and dig-in to a very confusing conversation riddled with a million questions.

Me: Asyncrite, you can't say that to girls. US girls want to be told they are skinny and pretty.

Yun-In (Korean): But what if that is a lie? I don't want to lie if she is not pretty or skinny!

Me: Well, that is where silence comes in. Either give a positive compliment or don't say anything.

Asyncrite (Beninois): So what can I say to compliment girls?

Me: Well, we have this handy phrase in English of 'You(r)____________look(s) good!'

It's great and can be used for almost all situations.

You look good.

Your shoes look good.

Your hair looks good.

Yun-In: Your fat looks good.

Well, we might have to practice this one...

Adventures

So I haven't blogged for awhile, and it's been even longer since I put up any pictures. I'm realizing that my distaste for taking pictures is having a real impact on fodder for blogging.

Well, I'll give you what I've got.

The boys went out the other night to the sand dunes where they played king of the mountain, desert style. When they came home, well, I'll let you decide. This is my favorite Aussie Josh.

I decided to poke fun at him and how dirty he was. Then he got this tired/annoyed look on his face.

AND HE ATTACKED ME (pictures not included...I was fighting for my life after all) After the attack, where he gave me a sweaty hug and rubbed his hair in my face...I was nearly as sandy as he was. The punk!

So I moved on to bigger and better things. Teaching Eli to cut hair. Here, Spencer submits to the first attempt of Eli's razor. He wanted a 'special' haircut for spirit week.

I had to do the finishing touches..

Isn't he cute?

Serve

How can I love something and completely detest it with all of my heart at the same time?

Usually after a successful moment with it, I am entirely and incandescently happy. But getting myself to move and start can be comparable to writing down an appointment to see your proctologist (not that I've ever had an appointment with a proctologist).

What I found this last quarter (after completely failing at my job on so many levels) is that I cannot fake this service stuff.

Oh! For sure, I can go through the actions. I know dorm/school schedule. I can be in the right place at the right time doing the right thing for the right amount of time and look great doing it! But I was daily leaving my grace, kindness, joy, and even gentleness and patience somewhere that only I could find it. I guess I felt the need to keep them locked away just for me.

The work got done.

The kids learned stuff.

But I was faking.

Did I really care that my job is to serve? Serving with my heart, not just my brain or my hands. I don't think I did.

Faking being a servant. Each time I took over the dorm for the dorm parents, but was bitter about it, I was faking. Helping this kid with homework and letting him get on my nerves...fake servant. Losing patience with the slacker chore team after having to refocus them...again. Faker!!

It finally took one of my friends taking me by the shoulders and letting me know that I was being

selfish

ridiculous

a jerk

fill in the blank

I am proud to report that a change has taken place. Granted, it's a change I have to choose every day, but my heart is serving with the rest of me now. I cleaned up kid barf this week and ya know what? I didn't mind. This is going to sound ridiculous, but it was fun to serve the kid and the dorm parents in that moment. When my heart and my hands are doing the same thing, I can actually feel the pleasure of God in the work I do.

This following God thing is hard work!

Bedtime

I love bedtime! For several reasons actually. However, mostly I like it because I get to go into each room and hang out and pray with the kids for a few minutes before they go to sleep. I firmly believe the best conversations happen just before bed. It is at that time that the children calm down and perhaps become more vulnerable, insightful, and willing to discuss hardships and issues facing them as young people in this current difficult age. I leave you with some examples.

"Hey, Aunt Cindy! Last night I popped the biggest zit ever!".....fifteen minutes later...."and it was so disgusting!" Thank you for that inspiring and thorough description...?

"OK, when he's done with his joke, I have one!".........25 minutes pass........"So there were these three guys..." I'm just wondering, why do these three guys always hang out? It seems only odd and awkward things ever happen to them. They need new friends. "Aunt Cindy! That was awful!"

"That kid (down the hall) has the smelliest feet ever! It has been proven using the scientific method! I was sitting here and everything smelled fine. He walked in an about a minute later it smelled like death in here!" Really? That's the scientific method? Interesting.

"Dude (to his roommate), you have the worst smelling farts! Aunt Cindy is in here, Control yourself!" Bless that child!

Would you rather be smart or good-looking? "Well, Aunt Cindy, I'm already good-looking so I guess I'd have to say I'd rather be smart." Dude, you are never going to get a girl. "Yes, I will."

"Hey, let's set up Aunt Cindy and _____________." The blank has been filled with any number of people. It seems to be a recurring theme. How am I supposed to respond to this conversation? Ideas? Anyone? We're trying to learn about how even adults can have platonic relationships, but it would appear this concept is not sinking in.

Stopped by the Police With a Van Full of Kids

"Bonjour, Hello" -policeman

hmmm...if I pretend to only speak English he may get frustrated and leave me alone. I'll just hand him my drivers license.

"Hello!" -me

"Ah, you have your permis de conduire." -him

Crap! He speaks English. I reach for the paperwork out of the cubby.

"I don't really know what you need," as I hand him a stack of papers and a bunch of junk he doesn't need.

"Oh, you don't know what you need. Well, I will teach you. You need this permis de conduire and this registration and...this (pointing to a number)...this....this...you know this. No?

"Oh yes, that number." (whatever the heck that number is for) -me

I think this guy just wants to show off his English skills. I can use this!"

"Wow! Your English is fantastic! Well done! I'm very impressed!" -me

"Oh, (nervous laugh) thank you so much." -him

"And this is everything I need?" (widen eyes a bit) -me

"Yes. Yes. You have everything you need." -him

Oh my goodness! Thank you! You just made my day better! I'm all set for driving, and I have all my paperwork! That's wonderful!" (flash big smile) -me

"Oh, no problem, no problem." (laughs heartily) "Thank you." (shakes my hand) -him

"You have a nice day! Thank you so much!" -me

"OK. Have a nice day." -him

Drive off. No ticket today for breaking any made up Nigerien rules!