Foolishness

In 20 years I'll be...
"an animal shelter worker. I'll also be a missionary in Africa or Australia. I want to see cheetahs and kangaroos. I want to save cheetahs. They are becoming extinct next to the tiger. Wildlife and nature will be gone soon and parks and a few territories will be the only things left. Then I hope Jesus Christ comes and the world will be perfected."

When I was ten years old, I packed all of my things in boxes, sold everything that didn't fit, and moved to Houston, Texas with my family. The Dominican Republic had been my home for my short little lifetime, and it was ten years of sheer bliss. I spent my hours reading, cavorting through the local dump and the nearby hills, catching snakes and tarantulas and bugs and lizards, giving my parents headaches, my sisters a hard time, and getting my brothers in trouble. I loved school and I loved church, I loved my friends, and I loved my country. I loved being Dominican.

The change was drastic. Houston heat was nothing to sniff at. No one went outside. People looked at you strangely from the windows of cars and houses if you were outside, enjoying the sunshine. Poisonous snakes were common, and even the lizards avoided the heat. Everything was cooped up in neat, developmental residences, and everything seemed distant. Including my school, which was a 30 minute drive. Not three weeks after we arrived, I started fifth grade at a Christian school. I had no idea what to expect.

My favorite elementary school memory is...
"When I had my first day here, I was in 5th grade. I was nervous. Everyone was so friendly and nice (excited, too), but I was nervous. The first class ended. I was still nervous. The second class came and went. I was still nervous. The last class ended. School was over. I was still nervous. I found my mom's car and we drove home. I was still nervous. Mom asked me how my day was. I said, 'Well, I was nervous.'"

I grew up in a very strong Christian home. I don't remember exactly how it was instilled in me--I don't remember any particular lessons my parents taught me about God or Jesus, or what any of it had to do with me. I somehow understood that God knew who I was, and not only that, but he cared about me and loved me even more than my parents did, and I knew they were the two people on earth who loved me and cared about me the most. When we moved, I remember praying furiously for God to send us back to the Dominican Republic, my home. I wanted to see my friends. I wanted to catch garden snakes and lizards with my brothers. I wanted our maid, Maria, to cook for us, and tell us to get her glasses of water while she worked. I wanted to walk down to el colmado and buy four pieces of Double Bubble mint gum for a peso--six, if we were lucky--and pan de agua for my mom. I wanted to climb the tree in our backyard and walk along its length to the top of the back shed and sit under the platanos leaves.

I just wanted to go back.

The first day of school was easy enough. I was asked whether I was a Longhorn or an Aggie, and I--having no idea what a longhorn or an aggie were--chose to be an Aggie. I had my name mispronounced in every classroom, by everyone, was teased for being from the "doctor," since I had neglected to realize that my peers did not fondly refer to the Dominican Republic as the "D.R.", and I finally left school with a sense of dread sitting heavily in my stomach.

Not long after, I began to fit in a little bit better. I got good grades, which made my teachers fond of me, and I learned that people in Texas were not like my beloved friends back home. Here, people smiled and put out a welcome mat, but after a while, that Southern hospitality died out, and I was left to my own devices. I got along with my peers, though, and that was enough for me and for them. My praying efforts doubled.

By the end of the year, I had started to adjust. I learned quickly that people were not to be trusted, that I was easily an A student, and that I would never fit into the Texan environment. I had been betrayed, mistreated, bullied, and more just within a fifth grade environment, things which I had never before experienced in the Dominican Republic. God had never been more important.

In Elementary School, the life lesson I have learned is...
"to be kind to others and accept Jesus as my Saviour and have faith in Him. It can help me when I'm in a fight and He will say, "Leave them alone! What have they done to you that will affect your life?" Listen when He tells you things. I have learned that to be kind, you have to give (not get) love, and live for it. You can give anyone a present or give them love. God will reward you with great riches if you love spiritually."

These were my fifth grade words at the end of the year banquet held in honour of our passing into middle school. These were the words of an eleven-year-old. I'm actually shocked. If someone asked me this question now, my answer would have been similar to those of my classmates--"Never talk during school." "If I do what I am told, I will get rewarded." "Never lie to your parents about homework."

But how is it that I, as an eleven-year-old, had enough wisdom to know that the petty prattling of a fifth-grader wouldn't affect the rest of my life? How is it that I understood that treating others kindly was more than simply being nice, but by living a life of love with no expectation beyond God's blessing? How is it that my eleven-year-old self knew more about leading a godly lifestyle than I do now, ten years later?

"Charis Irene Medendorp, daughter of John and Susan Medendorp, began attending CCS in the fifth grade. Charis' life verse is 1 Corinthians 1:18 -- 'For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.'"

I think it's high time I start taking my faith seriously--living a life of love is no easy thing.