The short story of LIFE

It started as a seed of an idea in my head.  After a year of working in a Spanish public school, I knew that I wanted to continue in education in Spain, but not in that environment.  I wanted to be free to teach in my own way.  Could there be a school that was marketed for Spaniards, but run by Christians?  A crazy idea, but a dream that I kept tucked away.

Then I made some very, very big mistakes.  I came out of them a broken woman clinging desperately to Jesus after losing almost everything.  So many dreams died, and one of them I thought for sure was my dream of returning to Spain to teach.

After a couple years and the dust had settled, God once again opened the door for me to go to Spain over the summer of 2014.  When I arrived as an English camp monitor in Granada, Spain, I knew no one.  When I left, I had made friends who felt like family.  Friends who heard my full story, lifted me up in prayer, and reassured me that God could still use a broken woman like me.  Even in Spain.

When I got back to Madrid, I had just a couple days to visit friends before I returned to the States.  While there, I got an e-mail from a friend back home telling me about a woman she knew who was looking to start a school in Madrid.  I immediately contacted this woman, though telling her it was a little hard for me to get around, as I was carrying all my luggage with me wherever I went.  Also, I was in this tiny town in Northern Madrid, so that made it even more difficult.

When she asked me what tiny town I was in, I said Tres Cantos.  She said that’s where she lived.

There are moments like these that feel like gentle nudges from the Lord, reassuring me that my life is still securely in His hands.

While sipping café con leche with her, I learned that this school was not yet ready to open, much less have students old enough for me to be their teacher.  Yet she pointed me toward another opportunity that would at least bring me to Spain as I waited.  I wasn’t sure why God would open this door so widely just to close it again, but I was learning to trust His timing.

I dove into life as a missionary in Spain, teaching mainly MK’s and a handful of Spanish nationals.  These last years have been full of joys, trials, encouragement, and deep frustration.  I am by no means a model anything, and while life here might seem glossy at times it is messy, too.  Yet with each step, God keeps molding this broken vessel into something that He can use for His glory.

Lord Jesus, Your Kingdom come!  

Last summer I reconnected with the school plant, now in its second year of operation.  After months of praying and talking it through, I was blown away by what God was doing.  Years ago I had a dream of starting a small school for Spaniards.  God showed me that I was dreaming small.  I am now joining a group of people with a heart to not just reach Spaniards through one school, but a whole series of schools.

God is moving, and if He can use someone who messed up so royally as I did, He can use anyone.  So now I speak.  Please pray for me, as I share my story and patiently wait for God to work in His time.

“I’m gonna sing out loud; let my voice be heard.  It’s a song of victory, and it’s ringing in the earth.”

-“On the Shores” Jonathan David and Melissa Helser

...but God orders my steps...

It was a quiet moment when this all started.  I was around 12 years old, sitting on my bed, reading a book.  A thought crossed my mind.  It was as if someone whispered to me, “Would you do it?  Would you move to another country and be a missionary?”  I thought about this.  I imagined living in a place with dirt for a floor, strange bugs crawling around (I HATE spiders!), and food to eat that I don’t like (I was a very picky eater as a child).  After a little thought, I said, “Lord, if you ask me to do that, I will do it.”  And I continued reading my book, giving this life altering moment no more attention.

 

Fast forward several years to my sophomore year of high school.  I had begun my second semester of French, and decided to switch to Spanish when the class was done.  I had recently gone to Mexico with my youth group, and desperately wanted to be able to speak with the people there the next time I went.  My French teacher was quite upset when she found out I would not continue to learn French, and pulled me aside one day to ask me why I switched.  Instead of explaining about my trips with my youth group, I blurted out, “I want to be a missionary when I grow up, and in order to do this I need to speak Spanish.”  I was shocked at my own words.  NEVER had they ever left my lips.  I’d always said I wanted to be a teacher.  Why was I saying a missionary?  My French teacher tried to explain that there were many missionaries in Africa where French was spoken.  Perhaps I could go there.  I again thought of Mexico, but my tongue got the better of me again and said, “Where I am going, I need to speak Spanish.”

Later, in college, after years of searching for a church of my own, I found a small one that quickly became like home.  One day they announced three upcoming short term trips, one of them being to Spain.  I thought it was strange to go to Europe.  Why send missionaries there?  I learned about the deep spiritual darkness there from those who had been.  My church showed an informational video about postmodernism that opened my eyes to the obstacles that people have before they can accept a Jesus who loves them more than they can understand. 

I did not go that summer, but in college opted to take a class on the history and culture of Spain as part of my Spanish minor.  Even though I was at a public university, that class opened my eyes to this tiny country I had hardly given a second thought to.  In my mind, it was like Spain never really had a chance to know Jesus.  One day in class, I felt the voice of the Lord saying very strongly, “You are going here next summer.”  I was dead broke and a trip to Europe seemed like a pipe dream, but I said, “Ok, Lord, if You want this, I will go.”

This blog is a small testament to what happened next.  That short 10 day trip changed my life.  I have since been to Spain 4 more times, including a 10 month stay to teach English.  Every time I return, I feel like I am coming back to my other home.  Every time I have moments where I sense the Lord telling me to pray for a particular person, or a place.  I have even gotten the opportunity to share with a Spaniard what Jesus means to me, a precious gift from a people so deeply wounded by the church.

I have told the Lord I will go wherever He wants me.  I do not know how long I will be in Spain, and tell people I will stay until He tells me otherwise.  But the more I look back on what He’s prepared me for, the more I see Spain written all over my life so far.  Right from that quiet moment as a young girl, reading a book, telling the Lord, “Here I am Lord….send me.” 

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”  Ecclesiastes 3:11

In the middle of all the crazy...

When asked what my favorite holiday is, I will tell you point blank that it's Thanksgiving.  I love Christmas nearly as much, but Thanksgiving is one of the last holidays that is truly a day to celebrate without too much pressure.  I can just spend time with my family, eat great food, and reflect on all the great things God has done in the last year.  No string of parties, no gifts to wrap, musicals to help put on, or songs replaying and replaying when really I only wanted to hear it once or twice.

Spain does not have Thanksgiving.  So, in Kristiina fashion, I wanted to soak in every moment of my last one for the time being, and it was a blast!  I met up with many friends I had not seen in awhile, watched football, and enjoyed time with my family as much as possible.  When it was over, I was not ready for Christmas season.  I did not want to decorate my apartment or start up the Christmas playlist on my iPod.  I did not want to accept that Thanksgiving was now over. This mini-denial caught up with me.

For I do love Christmas.  I have had some amazing Christmases, and others where I was hurting. This year was a mixture of so many things.  I had strings of parties one after another, each with a new food and white elephant gift to prepare.  I wrapped so many gifts, for a week my apartment looked a little like Santa's workshop.  I survived yet another amazing musical at Grace Family (and even got to share about Spain in front of everyone!)  And I finally started up that Christmas playlist on my iPod, and enjoyed all the memories each song brought back.

There was one things I forgot in the midst of it all, though: why I am doing all of this.  About a week before Christmas, I began to feel very overwhelmed with all that was happening.  Every worry, sadness, and lament seemed to weigh on me at once.  You see, I often feel very unequipped for what God has called me to.  I am really, really terrible at fund-raising.  The thought of selling everything I own sends me into panic mode---what if I fail and have to return?  Can I really make any difference at all anyway?  Also, I really don't want to do this alone.  I was driving down the road, about to turn left to my parent's house, when I made a sudden turn right toward Maidu Park.  I needed a moment to stop and go to one of my favorite places in the world.  Most of my childhood memories are wrapped up in this park. It's the place where I learned to ride my bike, check out a library book, had youth group meetings, cross-country practices, and where I learned to meet my Savior on a personal level while among His creation.  The moment I stepped onto the bike trail there, I felt

Instant

Peace.


Every worry suddenly seemed very small when I compared them to the power of God.  It's ok that I don't have all the answers.  He doesn't mind that I make mistakes all the time.  He is not bothered by my inadequacy at all.  Because He is enough.  He is going to get all the glory from my life.  My inadequacy gives Him space to step in and MOVE.  And if I were to be completely honest, that's all that I want.  When I was about 12 years old, I told Him if He wanted me to leave everything here in California, I would.  Standing in that park, I remembered that I love Jesus so much, and I don't want to miss out on anything that would draw me closer to Him.  I want as much of Him as I can possibly get in this world.

So in the midst of everything, I am taking deep breaths, and remembering the Reason for everything.

Ok 2016, here we come.

Why wait? Well...

When I heard the news that TeachBeyond had accepted me to teach in Spain, I was ecstatic.  Like, jumping up and down and doing the boogie in my living room ecstatic.  I had been waiting for this moment for nearly 6 years!  Then they started to talk about visas, fund-raising, etc., and I had this moment of panic.  A little voice in my head started screaming, "That's too soon!  You need one more year!"  I asked them if I could have time to pray about when to leave.  After speaking with the headmaster at the school in Spain, he agreed that one more year to wait for someone who wants to come long term was wise.  "Finally," I thought, "the voice of reason!"

Yet this is still something I wonder about and is one of the top questions I get from people as I share my story.  Why one more year?  Is my faith really that small to think that things could not come into place in so short a time?  I don't think this is my problem.  I know if God wanted me to go right now, I would be gone about a week ago.  My family has had some serious health issues pop up lately, so perhaps I am waiting for those to resolve?  No, again, as hard as it is to leave them, I know I have my family's blessing, and they are all well taken care of.  Maybe I want to wait until my niece is older?  I must say that I have loved getting to watch her grow this year, but I know I must resign myself to missing so much of her growth.  So why wait?

I do not have all the reasons, but I do know this: I have incredible peace about waiting.  Many of you will understand this, others may not.  While I struggle with wanting more solid reasons for staying, I get this sense that there is a purpose for waiting one more year.  There is this odd sense that my job here is not finished, and I need to complete it before I go to Europe.  After all, I am going for an indefinite amount of time, so there is no real need to rush in right away.  Right?

I will admit it is hard watching my new friends that I met at orientation leave for their new countries.  I read Spanish literature, watch Spanish shows and my heart aches to be in Spain!  Yet in my heart of hearts I know that I will miss Sacramento just as much.  I will miss my beautiful (albeit crispy) California.  In a sense, I am spending a year saying good-bye to one home before returning to another home.  When I lived in Spain I felt like my heart had expanded to be able to love two places on this earth fully.  When I talk with other people who live overseas, they say that they have felt this, too.  I am alright with waiting for my next adventure because I have an idea what is waiting for me.  I am no longer wild-eyed with the thoughts of adventure as I was 7 years ago when I left the first time, but am filled with a quiet joy for this next step.  Because of this, it feels right to walk slowly but steadily, soaking in each step of the journey instead of itching to get to the destination.

So I do not have all the answers as for why, but I am ok just sitting in the peace that it is the right thing for me to do.  I have also felt incredibly honored by the people who have agreed to talk with me about Spain and who have even made commitments to help me along the way so far in advance.  I am learning to walk one day at a time, enjoying what comes at each step.

The adventure begins...again...

Six years ago I was in the last month of my year living in Spain.  I had made many lasting friendships, expanded my Spanish vocabulary, explored many corners of Spain, and fallen deeply in love with a country that is so different from my own.  I left knowing I would return again to live, but I just didn't know when.

Since then life has thrown many surprises my way, both pleasant and not.  I have loved and been betrayed.  I have wept and have healed.  I have made mistakes and have tried so hard to learn from them.  Through all of this I have seen more and more how truly loving and faithful God is to me.  This is a time that I have learned I would not trade away for anything.

The best surprise that I have had happened this past year.  I went to Spain last year simply because I missed it!  When I landed and began traveling south, I realized how truly homesick I was for Spain.  I began sharing with people how I wanted to return to live someday.  As I talked through this with several people, I realized that I wanted to blend both my love of Spain and my passion for teaching together.  I left southern Spain feeling encouraged and eager to see what was next.

I spent the last two days of my trip in Madrid catching up with some dear friends.  I spent a day in Tres Cantos, a small town in northern Spain, and I had the morning free as my friends headed off to work.  That morning I received an e-mail from a woman who had gotten my information and knew that I was interested in teaching in Spain.  She knew that I was in Spain and asked if we could possibly meet or have a phone conversation.  I called her to tell her that I would love to meet, but I was not very mobile as I was carrying all my luggage with me and was in a small town in northern Madrid.  When I told her I was in Tres Cantos, she informed me that was where she lived!  We met for coffee and she shared about the school she and her husband will be starting.  It will not be ready for the older students that I teach for many years, but she promised to keep in touch.  I left Spain encouraged and feeling that I could

In the fall this woman encouraged me to send my information to a Christian school in Madrid.  I had hesitations about it, but decided to try it anyway.  I got a quick response from the headmaster, and he was very interested in my story.  He told me that it was a volunteer position (as are all the teaching positions), but they worked with several sending organizations who could help.  When I called one, I began to feel more excited as I talked about wanting to work in a school that is for Spaniards.  They are an organization that works with schools in about 40 countries around the world, and when the time was right, I could move into such a school.  I started to see my dreams come true.

I am still watching this dream take shape.  With one more year here in the United States, I am diligently seeking people who will walk alongside me.  Most of all, I am trusting in the One who has brought me this far.  I cannot wait to see where we go next...

But I want the answer NOW!

In my most recent class, I had several BIG personalities in my room.  I only had 8 students, so those shiny egos got a lot of attention in my room.  One student in particular, who I shall dub "Doug," was particularly stubborn with me.

Doug is very bright, but likes avoiding extra work at all costs (fellow teachers, you know the type!)  I had to learn to be very strict with him to make sure he was keeping up with others in class.  Towards the end of the year, we began going over basic algebraic equations.  We reviewed "Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally" and all that.  I explained to my students that these sorts of equations are one of my favorite pieces of math.  They are like puzzles you have to solve.  But you have to be very careful how you solve them and be writing down your work as you go.  This is a trouble spot for Doug.  He can often do higher math in his head, though he tends to make silly mistakes because he neglects to write down all the pieces.  So trying to encourage him to write down every step for a simple equations such as "3x + 7= 10" was not happening.  Even writing out the first few exercises on the board was not an incentive.

"Doug, we just did the problem together and you didn't write it down."

"Yes, I did.  See?  I wrote '1.' "

"But you didn't show your work.  I have to see that you know how we got it."

"I did it in my head.  It's easy."

It was a conundrum.  Yes, I am glad he can do it in his head.  Yes, I often let my students work out math problems in various ways if they make sense and work correctly every time.  I really try to allow for different ways of thinking.  But this I have to be a stickler on.  I know what it's like a year down the road with trickier equations.  I know that with operations such as the quadratic formula, if you are not meticulous in writing things down you will make errors every time.  But how can I explain this to him now in a way that won't confuse him or his classmates further? 

"Doug, you just have to trust me on this one.  I know what math is like later on, and if you are not used to writing things out, it will be harder on you."

Boom.

It hits me.  One of those annoyingly enlightening moments where what I am saying to my student I hear God saying directly to me.

A year and a half ago, almost to the day, my world as I knew it fell completely to pieces.  I lost my job, my home, my church (and subsequently my friends), and my husband.  For the past year and a half, God has slowly been putting the pieces back together.  The way my life was headed and how I was living back then were not working.  I was not walking in His will and was headed for serious depression and heartache.  My life now looks leaps and bounds better than it did before, but not all puzzles are in place yet.  There is one piece I know God will put in, but it has not been placed yet.  I ask and pray constantly, "God, I know this is a piece!  Where is it!  You have this for me, can I have it now?  How much longer?"

I hear God gently reply to me, "You are just going to have to trust me on this one.  I know what your life will look like later on down the road.  I have a plan, but you are just going to have to leave it to me and go step by step as I am showing you so you don't make the same mistakes again."

So when I would grade Doug's papers and mark him wrong again and explain again that he needed to write everything out, I breathed deeply and reminded myself to have patience with him, just as my loving Father has patience with me.  I know what the answer may look like, but I need to keep walking, step-by-step, listening to my Teacher show me how it will be done correctly every time.

Even teachers need to learn...

So it has been a long time since I have posted here.  I am now stateside again, and not a day passes that I don't long for the day that I will return to Spanish soil.  Yet while I wait here, God is constantly teaching me new facets of Him and preparing me for the next leg of my journey with Him.

I have considered blogging about lessons that I learn from my students for quite some time now.  I thought about placing these thoughts in a new blog, yet my job is a large part of mi aventura nueva, so here it stays.

My first post will not be about my current class (though Heaven knows I am learning a lot from my current munchkins!)  This is a story from my student teaching days that has had a huge affect on me, and I do not want to forget, as some details have already escaped me.

In my first assignment, I worked in a 1/2 combo class with an amazing cooperating teacher (CT) who treated me as an equal in front of her students.  I am indebted to her care and investment in me, as it shaped me as a teacher very much.  I learned that being gentle, patient, and compassionate with students goes such a long way with students that I should seriously hesitate before taking any other approach with students.

One afternoon after recess, one of the second grade boys, who I will call Andy, came running up to me crying.  When I asked him what was wrong, he told me his best friend, who I will call Jason, had hit him.  This shocked me.  I knew these two boys were close, and if any of the two were to resort to hitting, it would have been Andy, not Jason.  Something was up.  Thanks to the liberation of having two teachers in class, I took the boys to the back table while my CT took care of the rest of the class.  I told them that I was going to let each of them have a chance to talk, and that they needed to listen and not interrupt while the other was speaking.

It turned out that they had been playing baseball, and Andy had made a decision that made Jason feel left out (here the details from my memory are hazy, for which I apologize).  Andy was shocked to hear that his actions had hurt Jason.  He turned to Jason and said, "Jason, I didn't mean to hurt you.  We have been best friends since kindergarten, and I thought you knew that I would never want to hurt you."  Both boys and I started to cry.  That was all that needed to be said.  Jason needed to know he was cared about.  After wiping our tears, the boys were excused to join the rest of the class.  As I stood, I saw tears in my CT's eyes, too. 

I knew that this lesson was for me, too.  How many times have I had arguments with friends and struggled to find the right words to say to them?  Those key words that would bring light and understanding to the situation and would help us both realize what the truth in the situation was?  Sometimes I find them, most times I don't.  But I think of Andy and Jason and how simple it really was: I thought you knew I cared and would never mean to hurt you.  If you didn't know, please be assured that it is true!