Teaching With Language Barriers

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I can speak Spanish. I know words. I know phrases. I know verbs and how to conjugate (most of) them. I can get around by myself if I need to, but I’d rather not. Because I teach at a bilingual school, and all of my classes are in English, the point is for the students to be immersed in the language with a native speaker. Enter: me.

Now, it's very hard not to practice my Spanish in the classroom because (1) I just want to and (2) they obviously understand that language better than the other. For example:

Me: “Students, find your seats.”

Students: blank stare.

Me: “Find. Your. Seats.”

Students: “Fye my whaaa?”

Me: “Sentase!!!!” (Not even knowing if that’s the right word.)

Students: “Ooohhh!! Sit down!”

Well, before I got to Costa Rica, the students whined to the sub (a girl from Costa Rica) – “Can’t we just speak Spanish?” She told them no, that they could not speak Spanish because when their "real teacher" got there (me), I wouldn't understand it - so they would need to always speak English. Never Spanish because their "real teacher" (me) didn't speak ANY Spanish.

Well the first day, I let a few Spanish words slip on accident. For example:

Me: “Students, listen to me please.”

Students: A few looked up, the rest still lost in distraction.

Me: “Escúchame!!”

Students: Everyone looked up and paid attention.

On the second day, I accidentally let a few more slip throughout the day. By the end of the last period, I had “practiced” quite a few Spanish terms on my students. So when Josué brought his notebook to my desk I said, “Gracias, mi amor,” which means, “Thank you, my love.” He walked away and Sofia, whose desk is right in front of mine, turned around and said, “Miss Ashli. You’re such a fast learner. You Spanish is SO much better today!”

I smiled and remembered that she thought I came with zero knowledge of Español. How cute she was, to encourage me in my “learning.”

And that’s how we started our first week in Miss Ashli’s class.

5 of my beautiful 8

Death's Relentless Pursuit

Death is:
 
                      Hard
           Permanent
   Empty
 
It is relentless.
 
It just might be the dang most ambitious thing any of us have ever laid eyes on. When it finalizes its attack, it stops at no one. It waits for nothing and frankly Scarlet, it just don’t give a damn about your plans. Let’s get real: death sucks to those of us left in its dust. 
I suppose we could thank death for its considerate warnings. After all, it often sends accidents, surgeries, and diseases to preface its unruly arrival. But we’re never really ready when it decides to grace disgrace us with its presence. “We knew it was coming, just not this soon,” seems to be one of the most common phrases uttered through tears at funeral services.
___________________________________________
As I stepped out of the car, I took a deep breath, for I knew what I was about to walk into. The night was hot, the air was thick, and every step closer to the door seemed heavier.  Walking in Papaw’s house I could tell others had been crying but for a moment, it was calm. Harold, Papaw’s dearest friend and caregiver, met me at the door of the dining room with a hug. “I told him you were coming in the morning,” He said, “I told him you were coming to read the Bible to him in the morning. But he just couldn’t wait.” For a brief second I was sad because I would have given anything to read one more Psalm and Proverb to Papaw. But before I could stop it, my mouth opened and out came, “There was no need for him to wait, he’s with the Real Thing right now.” 
 
I always was the curious type so when the coroner went back to see Papaw’s body and get details, I followed him into the bedroom. I sat down on his portable potty chair because well, it was the first available seat and besides, its what I sat on to read him the Bible so, why not? All the voices in the room faded, as I got lost in prayer, looking at his colorless body. “God, I don’t even know if I’m allowed to ask this. There’s no color on his face, there’s no blood running through his veins. I mean, there’s no life circulating through this body in front of me. Breathe life in to him, God.” Before I could beg the Father for revival any further, He stopped me. Maybe God was talking or maybe it was just my memory reminding me of what scripture says about heaven. But suddenly, I couldn’t ask God for life anymore. Cliché as it may sound, in an instant, my grandfather went from this life to the next. I mean, just like that, he went from being here to being gone. From suffering to perfection.
 
He went from being miserable in his recliner, covered with his beloved Ole Miss blanket, his body proving inadequacy to walking dancing down a street made of pure gold with undistracted attention to King Jesus. 
 
Just like that, all of it happened.
 
I thought of Isaiah and what God allowed him to see in chapter 6.
The train of His robe filled the temple.
I thought of the Psalms and Proverbs I had read to him in days before.
This day was the 8^th of August and once again, curiosity led him away from his side to the place we kept his Bible.
 
I smiled at God at I read Psalm 8.
 

O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!
Your glory is higher than the heavens.
You have taught children and infants
to tell of your strength
silencing your enemies
and all who oppose you.
When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
the moon and the stars you set in place—
what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
  human beings that you should care for them?
Yet you made them only a little lower than God
and crowned them with glory and honor.
You gave them charge of everything you made,
putting all things under their authority—
the flocks and the herds
and all the wild animals,
the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
and everything that swims the ocean currents.
O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!

 
 
Last night, death came with relentless course. In the blink of an eye Papaw was gone and we were left with sorrowful tears and sweet memories. But in that very same blink, he stood in the presence of a God whose name is MAJESTIC and fills the whole earth. A God whose glory is higher than the heaven. He crowns an undeserving humanity with glory and honor.
 
Last night, Papaw was declared righteous and holy and deserving.

And now, he dances at the throne of the Most High. 

Apparently Our God Heals: Training Camp Part 2

You should know that I have zero theological training. One time in 9th grade I took a class called "Bible" and that was just because I was at a Christian school and didn't have a choice in the matter. Trust me, I’d rather been in Rhetoric or Debate. The one thing I remember about that class was sitting there wondering what the heck our Headmaster was talking about when he kept referring to “the fall.” I suppose I eventually figured it out and passed the class because I only had to take it once. But that single class is the extent of my sitting in a classroom learning anything even close to theology or doctrine or anything else. And to be honest, I like it that way.
 
So maybe I can’t explain to you WHY things happen the way they do. I can’t give you a prepared answer to WHY bad things happen or HOW God feels when they do. We could go rounds all day long talking about the WHY and the HOW and we’d both probably make some very good points. But right now, I want to talk about the WHO and the WHAT. Because some things happened at training camp that I can’t give an explanation for. All I can tell you is WHAT happened and WHO did it. And once you’ve experienced the power of the Holy Spirit like I did at training camp, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
 
On this particular night, our pastor and speaker for the week was teaching on prayer and healing and the combination of the two. I was so excited for this lesson because I’ve been praying for God to heal my back for so long now. When Ron asked if there was anyone who needed physical healing, a girl a few rows in front of me raised her hand immediately. Her name is Bekah. I had noticed Bekah right off the bat the first day of camp because she was on crutches. Although I saw her from a distance and I was discouraged by the amount of weight pressing down on me from my hiking pack, I instantly felt pain for Bekah. “My gosh it’s so hot and that poor girl has a boot on her leg. I can’t imagine dealing with all that and carrying a hiking pack too.” As I watched Bekah struggle to walk down to the front of the room without her crutches, I couldn’t help but wish it were I walking down that aisle for healing. 
 
As Bekah began to tell her story, something happened inside of me. But in this moment, all I could do was sit and stare. Bekah began to tell how she is a professional dancer and in many ways dancing is her ministry. God moved her and her husband, Josh, to LA and living in a secular world has been a very real struggle for them. She always had dancing to hold onto until she hurt her ankle. The more she spoke, the more I cried. A knot was growing in my stomach and my legs began to go numb. They started to tingle and eventually began to hurt. I felt actual pain in my legs and this is one of those times that I cannot explain WHY.
Now there were several girls on my squad who knew how bad my back has gotten over the last few months and I knew they were going to make me sit still long enough to pray over me. So I sat there thinking to myself, “I’m going to have to stand soon. These legs better start working.” Ron and a few others began to pray over Bekah and she felt tingles and movement in her foot. After a couple of minutes the whole room of 300+ stretched out our arms toward Bekah and begged God for healing.
 
As they continued to rub their hands over her leg and pray fervently for her, the rest of the room broke into small prayer circles praying over others who needed it. (I was one of those people and that specific blog is coming next so get ready.)
 
The next day in our first session all together, AIM staff asked Bekah for an update on her ankle. She said it felt so much better but she was still wearing her boot to be cautious and besides, she didn’t have a left shoe. As the week progressed and I would bump into Bekah during lunch or in the bathroom, she talked about how her ankle was healing and it was feeling better each day. She was still a little hesitant to take off her boot and walk freely.
 
One of the last days of camp I saw Bekah walking across campus with NOTHING ON HER FEET BUT TWO RUNNING SHOES. She was not limping or struggling … she was walking freely. “Wow, this girl is for real,” I thought. And then, it happened. That night with 300+ people in a room worshipping a God who had done more in that week than any of us could have imagined, it happened.
 
I was facing the back of the room praying for some girls on my squad when I heard the worship leader begin to sing “Revelation Song.” I looked up at Emily and said, “I love this song” as I turned around to worship. I couldn’t believe my eyes. They instantly filled with tears and my mouth dropped wide open. This is what I saw… 

Apparently Our God Exceeds Expectations: Training Camp Part 1

DISCLOSURE: You, the reader, should probably know that you may or may not like what you read here. If you can’t appreciate honesty, transparency, and raw, unedited word vomit then you should probably stop with this sentence. Because I, the writer, have a tendency to say (type) things that most people don’t say out loud. I tend to forget about social boundaries and sometimes I even cross those boundaries. As you’re reading, you may even think to yourself something like, “She really just went there?” And the answer will likely be yes.BUT, if you can hang with me to the end, you may see that I’m not so bad and we might actually have a lot more in common than you thought! So over the next few weeks I’ll be blogging a series about training camp and how I did or did not love every second of it. If you’re reading this sentence, you’ve decided to come along for the ride and quite frankly, I’m glad to have you here. Let’s go….     So what if AIM tells you to come to training camp without expectations? You know you had them. Even if you didn't know what to expect, you expected to be surprised.  It's ok, I had them too.  But honestly? Mine weren't so great. When asked if I was excited about camp my response was almost always, "Heck no. I heard it's worse than the race. The only thing I'm happy about is meeting my squad." But the truth is, I would have been fine putting that off for a few more weeks. I was not ready to leave my bedroom and bathroom and hot running water to sleep on the ground (and sometimes other conditions which shall remain secret) and take cold showers. And by "cold showers" I mean three. Three showers… in one week... cold... and the water pressure was equivalent to the drizzle when you don't turn the sink off all the way.   Some thoughts I had before training camp: “I don’t really want to do this.” “It’s ridiculous that they won’t tell us anything. We’re adults and we need details!" “If they don’t feed me enough food, I’ll just eat my snacks the whole time.”·      “Why am I leaving my parents and boyfriend and a good life for uncertainty?” “I have no gear. And when I get it, I won’t even know what to do with it.” “I wish God would free me from this.”   Who would be excited about this?  I'll tell you who.  Anyone who has ever been to a World Race training camp, that's who. Because that person knows what the heck he or she is about to experience and no bed or warm shower will compete with the power that comes from that encounter. I’m referring The Encounter. You know, the one that’s undeniable, irresistible, and quite impressive. I’d love to be able to narrow this encounter down to one specific time where the Holy Spirit came over me with strong wind like tongues of fire (Acts 2) but I just can’t do it. Simply because I believe that July 14-21, 2012 was one big kairos of lesson after lesson in which Jesus never left my side.   This is going to sound vague but there were chains broken. Chains that had held my brothers and sisters down for a very long time. Chains that were beginning to get tighter and leave bruises. They were now shattered and left to rust. There was healing. Physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental healing. Heck, people were healed in ways they didn’t even know they needed it. And mostly, there was love. A word that we toss around lightly indicating we enjoy/like/feel strongly about something. But this is a kind of love that I have never experienced in any other place. The best word I can think to describe it is: unconditional. Girls and guys became my brothers and sisters in a split second and before I knew it, they loved me… and they did it well. One night during worship everyone was singing "With Everything" to the top of our lungs. Rarely have I seen more passionate worship from young adults. There's a rather large part of the song that simply sings, "Woa" over and over and over and over and as I looked around the room I thought to myself, "This MUST be a glimps into heaven."    Some thoughts I’ve had since I’ve been home from camp: “I’ve honestly never been in a place where I felt more safe to be myself.” “God must have thought it was funny when my bag of snacks was invaded by ants and later ransacked by other campers… on night TWO.” “Thank you God for knowing how I tick. And that my ticking doesn’t have to look like anyone else” “Well, I made it through. I feel like I could take on the world.”   So ya see, training camp wasn’t all bad. I slept (or didn’t sleep) in some not-so-ideal conditions. I ate some not-so-ideal food for any time of the day on any day of the week. I walked some not-so-ideal miles up mountains all week and smelled some not-so-ideal scents. But I met a God who is ideal. In every way, reader, He is ideal. And this year He has planned out for me is more ideal than I can begin to tell you. I’m glad you’ve made it to this sentence and I can’t wait to tell you more!   After all, I feel like I could take on the world. And I just might try...

All I Need is Him

The church I go to has a service on Saturday night and because I'm usually already in Hattiesburg on Saturday, I go to that one. I therefore had no obligations or responsibilities today. Because of this, I slept the day away - according to my boyfriend who never exaggerates the truth. So here I am at 11pm on Sunday evening writing a blog instead of enjoying some serious REM cycles. I have to wake up at 5:30am for work but hey, YOLO...... right?

It's been like 80 years since I last blogged and a lot has happened since then! Um for one, I have a boyfriend? I'm not really sure what to do with one of those but ... ya know, one day at time. And he's great. And supportive of the race - we'll see how hunky dory he is come September 1st.

For two, my fund raising has been a roller coaster ride. Slow -- fast --- up --- down --- and just when it gets boring, the bottom falls out and you "lose your stomach" which makes for a fun rest of the ride. Some people have been awesome and donated like $500 at a time while others have been awesome and donated $11 on the 11th of EVERY month. How cool are God's people? Like, seriously. Sometimes I still debate on making World Race t-shirts to raise money. I just don't know if I have the time... or patience.

Training camp is in 6 days - I'll be gone for 2 weeks - and well, it's starting to get serious. Until now, World Race has just been talk. Training camp has been talk. I had a mini freak out moment the other day. Me and the boyfrann bought a devo book to do together .... and then I realized it's a nine week study. NINE WEEKS.  After training camp, I'll have five weeks left in the good ole states. FIVE WEEKS. I wanted to throw up and cry and send AIM an e-mail explaining why I've chosen not to go.
Then I imagined, for a moment, what that e-mail might sound like. That's when I remembered that He who is in me really is greater than he that is in the world. See, here's the thing: there are a million people in my life with a million different reasons for me not to go - some valid and some just plain ridiculous. But at the end of the day, despite the never-ending pain in my back and despite the fun times I am having right now with my family and friends and new love and despite the need here in the US, I have never... ever... not once... doubted that I was supposed to go. There have been times I wondered if God may be shutting a door but in the most deep parts of my heart, I knew He was sending me.

I know. He's sending me.


For three, I've been reading "Not a Fan" by Kyle Idleman. I'll be honest. I've been reading it for about 6 months now -- I suck at reading, okay? Anyway, it's a great book - an easy read and I'd recommend it to anyone who... well, anyone. It's about being a follower of Jesus as opposed to a fan. Sometimes I feel like a fan.

Sometimes I am just a fan.

And other times I don't feel like I'm much of either. The truth is, I'd like to put time into my earthly relationships rather than the Eternal One. I'd rather surf Facebook than the New Testament and I'd like to hang out with girlfriends rather than small group.

But lucky for us, this world does not operate on my wants or desires but rather on His. We can't live according to our feelings and expectations but rather according to Truth.


So here I am, on this late Sunday evening thinking about the last few months and the next few to come and suddenly my anxieties and questions disappear. At the end of the day [literally] all I need is Jesus.

All I need is Him.


Goodnight, world.

http://ashliblackwell.theworldrace.org/

Look at Me

Women are mean. 

And I woke up with a sore throat. 

And the pain in my back increases by the second. 

And Facebook is covered with tragedy and negativity. 

And it feels like I'm never going to raise the $20,000 I need. 

And headaches don't care if I have work to do or people to see or places to go. 

And I have purses to mail and bracelets to sell and thank-you cards to write. 

And church. And work. And Bible study with my World Race group. And time

with my family. And that phone call from the girl who needs advice. And I have fundraisers

that need planning. And I need to spend time with my sister. And I want to swim. And I'm behind on 

that book I'm reading. Those 8 books I'm reading. And my head swells just from thinking about all this. And just when I think I am about to run out the door screaming and crying with my hands in the air and never looking back ............................................................................................................

"Stop. Put the computer down and step away from the door. You aren't going anywhere." 

Oh, well aren't we feeling bossy today?

He tells me this and it's the sweetest words He could use at that moment. 

"Look at me." -  but I resist like a child avoiding a spanking. 

"No, look at me," He says. "Don't take your eyes off me."

It's like a movie scene. When we've watched 90 minutes of boy-girl chase and finally at the end when everyone involved has been deceived, misunderstood, or just stubborn - boy sees girl through a crowd. Girl notices boy noticing her. They walk towards each other and as they gaze upon the other, everything around them fades. Literally. (We literally see it fade on our TV screen.)

That's what happens. "Don't take your eyes off me," He says, and everything around me fades. 

I sit on my bed, indian style, with worship music and my favorite NLT. Sometimes I sing, sometimes I read, and sometimes I just sit. But as long as I have my eyes on Him, the chaos around me turns to a big blur of neutral colors and none of it matters at all. 

I choose to trust that the Lord has not called me to the life of routine and safety that I would love to lead. But instead, He has called me specifically to The World Race for this season. Even if that means a lot of money, sweat, stress, tears and blood. And through all of that, I will choose to focus on my Savior and worship my King. 

So yeah.

Women are mean. 

And I woke up with a sore throat. 

And the pain in my back increases by the second. 

And Facebook is covered with tragedy and negativity. 

And it feels like I'm never going to raise the $20,000 I need. 

And headaches don't care if I have work to do or people to see or places to go. 

And I have purses to mail and bracelets to sell and thank-you cards to write. 

And church. And work. And Bible study with my World Race group. And time

with my family. And that phone call from the girl who needs advice. And I have fundraisers

that need planning. And I need to spend time with my sister. And I want to swim. And I'm behind on 

that book I'm reading. Those 8 books I'm reading. And my head swells just from thinking about all this. And just when I think I am about to run out the door screaming and crying with my hands in the air and never looking back, I run into my Savior and He says those words. 

"Look at me."






Come see me here at: My World Race Page!!

This Place Will Drive You to Your Knees

The top of Laura's blog used to say, "This place will drive you to your knees."  

She used to tell me about the scenery there, as if to paint me a picture of her new life in Haiti. 

Combined with pictures on Facebook and her stories about Haitian life, my imagination was all I had to go by. And then I went there. And my understanding of a poverished, dark, third-world country became reality. From the second I stepped off the plane in Port-au-Prince, one phrase was always on my mind - this place will certainly drive you to your knees. 

When Laura asked me to guest post on her blog I was like, "Oh heck yeah!! God? Bring on the revelations!!" I'll say, I do love to tell of the crazy unthinkable’s He so often throws in my face. From answering really ginormous prayers to providing things I never even asked for, but needed. So, I was so-super-pumped to tell you about all the things He and I experienced together while in Haiti. It's been about a month now since my return to the states and I've erased and re-written this post at least four times. I can tell you what physically happened while I was there. And I can tell you how I physically reacted. What I cannot put into words, however, is what God did in my heart during it. The way I experienced Him - our communion. So after praying for many days about what the heck to write, this is what I've decided you need to know: I am two people in one - USA Ashli and Missionary Ashli. Hi, we're happy to meet you. 

Now before you go calling me skitzo, let me explain. Laura was home last month visiting family and friends and when I walked in the door to hang out with her she said, "You look so pretty. The last time I saw you was in Haiti and we were, well... not worried about being pretty." I guess I'll let that one slide, since I kinda like her but it reminded me of a conversation I overheard the day before. Someone in my hometown had heard that I was going on The World Race and like small-town talk does, it spread quickly. So my mom was on the phone with someone asking about it when I heard her say, "She is so high maintenance when she is here. She goes off with the girls for a weekend and takes 8 pairs of shoes. But send her to another country for 10 days and the girl takes 5 shirts." 

Now, you need to know that I love my comforts and conveniences as much as the next person. And the thought of purposely doing without them sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. When here in the States, I wash my hands before I eat, I NEVER sit on a public toilet, and if I go to a restaurant where the table isn't clean- well, I want a new table. I take warm showers, just because I can, I buy a new skirt simply because I think I deserve it, and you better believe if some part of my food touches the floor (or even table) it's going in the trash. I enjoy all the clothing options I have when getting dressed, pedicures are my absolute favorite, and I spend way too much money eating out. 

However, when in Costa Rica, I couldn't flush my toilet paper, I ate rice with EVERY meal, I wore some of the same clothes twice, I walked 2 miles barefoot down a Costa Rican semi-gravel road, and I played soccer in a field with more holes than solid ground (until I landed in one of those holes and tore up my ankle, that is. Thanks a lot, CR!) In Haiti, I took cold showers, I sat on EVERY toilet seat I used, if food fell on the floor I picked it up and ate it, I held children with skin diseases and sores, I kissed those children, I ate and drank after those children, I ate street food like it was nobody's business, I watched gnats have their way with my bare feet, and I rode a tap-tap for crying out loud with 10 or so other Haitians. 

 So this begs the questions, WHAT IS IT ABOUT THIS CULTURE THAT MAKES US TAKE 8 PAIRS OF SHOES ON A WEEKEND TRIP?? When did we become so concerned with germs and hand sanitizer and toilet seat covers that we forgot to let God be God and control it all. When did we forget that "God made dirt and dirt don't hurt??" It seems I find myself constantly striving for this certain level of acceptance. But accepted by whom? And what makes us accepted? I feel most confident when I have on my favorite outfit, my cutest jewelry, and my pink lip-gloss. By the sounds of this, I feel most valued for things that cannot reach past my surface... literally. But pick me up and put me down in Haiti? Makeup isn't an option and who cares what you're wearing? There's work to be done and a Gospel to be told. I can't blame USA Ashli for wanting to hold on to the things she has grown accustomed to, for that's all she has ever known. But Missionary Ashli is screaming for simplicity. She's screaming for a world that sits on public toilets because heaven knows she's grateful it's not just another hole in the ground. She's screaming for a people who pick up fallen food from the floor and eat it because we either can't afford to waste that bite, or don't have time to go get more. She dreams of a culture that is more concerned with what a person is saying than what they look like when they are saying it. 

She craves a place that will drive you to your knees. 

Y'see, the thought of giving up the things that make our life easy just sounds like that disaster that's waiting to happen. Stripping ourselves of the very things we call 'blessing from God' does not sound like a very smart thing to do. But can I just tell you, reader, that in those times I have experienced God like no other time before. Don't hear me saying the Lord can't speak into any situation He so desires. But when we deny ourselves of the distractions that we label as "life necessities" we become open to a whole new desperation for our Creator. 

Because it's in those places that we find rest. It's those places that He tells me I'm beautiful with or without makeup and pearls. It's those places that we depend on Him to make it through this day and on to the next. 

What does this place look like for you? Maybe you're like me and it's about finding a place of simplicity, trust, and rest as opposed to the chaos of our corporate-ladder culture. Maybe you need to love better or surrender more. What is it that takes you to a place where only He can change you?

Where is the place that will drive you to your knees?