Broken Alabaster Boxes

Looking over the first trimester of school, the days felt long, but the time was short. The tests, the work, the daily grind, it all felt so long in the midst, but it was gone quickly. And now, looking ahead, the time seems to be slipping through my fingers. It won’t be long until I board the plane to return home in July. W e had 3 eventful weeks of Christmas vacation. The first was filled with a Bible School for young people, which was located up the island. It was extremely refreshing and encouraging, and I came away with a better vision for what I should be doing here. For the next week and a half there were only two of us girls in the house, rather than 4, and the time was filled with wonderful variety. We hiked a mountain in the mud, cleaned, baked Christmas cookies, spent time with people, held an adorable new baby, and walked through the community to hand out cookie plates. It was relaxing and nice to have a change. Christmas day we spent with some of the staff....

He sat right up against me during church, searching for song numbers and Bible references, his 11-year-old energy well contained for the moment. He blessed me, just by his energy, smile, and quiet trust as he leaned his head against my shoulder.  It reminded me of another boy who is my friend as well. He’s across the ocean, still working at Hardee’s. But I remember him. As we sat and listened to the message, I thought of the young men that roam the streets, causing trouble and smoking weed. Will this one beside me be like them in a few years? What will become of him? But I have this moment, while he sits by me, to be his friend, point him to Christ, and pray he will be different. * * * A grocery cart and 5 students.  “Teja and Selena, go get a box of orange juice. Tell me the price when you bring it back.” Josiah and Shachri return with canned meat. “$5.50, Ms.” “Anton, what’s $9.50 plus $5.50?” He thinks hard. “$15.00.” And we move down the...

Shouting, laughing, hurrying, the students piled into the three waiting vans. Windows slid open and eager faces peered out. Hands waved and shouts were exchanged until we were finally on our way for the first field trip of the year. We began winding our way up the island, past board shacks, elaborate mansions, tiny spice shops, Carib bars, and locals barbequing chicken.  The children laughed and chattered in the back until we reached out first destination, Belmont Estate. It's a chocolate factory, beginning from the cocoa pod itself to the final product. It was an interesting process, which our guide explained well, even for the youngest students. Time and drying are crucial for good chocolate. And at the end, we ended in the factory where we were given samples of the chocolate. Belmont produces dark chocolate, and one of their flavors include different spices grown here in Grenada, including cinnamon and nutmeg.  The students enjoyed the tour, especially t...

Life. A vapor.  Slipping as sand, Thro the hour glass of life.  Slipping and sliding, Cascading thro the narrow opening of seconds and minutes and hours. Tho slow it may seem, One thing is constant.  It is forever moving.  One day the last grain of sand will slide thro the narrow opening.  One day the time for that hour glass will be done.  One day that will be me.  Sometimes I try to catch the sand as it slides thro.  Sometimes I try to reclaim the sand that has already passed. And sometimes in frantic haste I clutch and grab and pant to preserve.  All is futile.  All without hope.  The only choice I have that truly brings hope, Is to give that hour glass to Him.  To take this vessel I have, Only one, And place it the hands of the Maker. To take my grains of sand, This moment, This child, This task, And by the grace of God, ...

The evening air blows cooler as the sun slides towards the horizon. The moderation in temperature is welcome, tho slight. Everything from the waving palms to the people walking the roads look relieved for the coolness. And I feel the same relief. The days have been cooler now with the rain. It comes down in sheets, drenching any, even with an umbrella. The children come to school in hoodies and wet shoes and complain about the coldness. In reality it's still 75 or 80. Games are played indoors at recess, the rain driving hard against the roof, and sometimes dripping from leaks. It's been good to be busy again. When I first arrived, time tended to drag. I had less to do, and I didn't know many people. But as I have gotten out in the community that has changed. This past week has been particularly busy,  with something scheduled every night. The days are filled with school and other duties, the evenings mostly with church or ministry oriented things. Other weeks our ...

The drumming of a passing shower. Crickets every night outside my window.  Children calling to each other as they walk the road.  Bussing, jammed together, music throbbing, people calling to each other.  The evening sky, clouds tinted pink and the moon emerging.  The harbor at sunset.  Faces of friends looking up into our windows, seeing if we are home.  Sitting on our steps, watching people walk by.  School children singing. Calling greetings on Sunday afternoon walks. The bizarre that happens. Cool breeze in evening. 

Eight o'clock and we gather for teachers chapel. One teacher assigned for playground duty. The rest gathered around the table. Twenty minutes for devotions, sharing, and prayer. I have enjoyed the blessing of fellow teachers who are focusing on the same issues and struggles and who are together seeking God. 8:20 the bell rings. Kids scramble to their lines, assigned by grade. Shirts tucked. Shoes tied. Basketballs handed over to teachers.  "Ms., I finished my homework."  "Ms., Josiah stepped on my foot."  "Do we have Language Arts test today?" Sometimes it takes long to quiet them, or get them in a straight line. Sometimes I send them running around the school for not obeying promptly.  Then we file in. We have 10 minutes in our classroom before chapel. Pencils grind sharp. Books and papers are set in my desk to be scored from yesterday's homework. Assignments written on the board are copied into notebooks. Lunch is ordered....